Ever wonder what happens if you drive up to your local gas station, fill up your tank, PRETEND to pay for it and then drive away without ACTUALLY paying for it??
Well I can tell you.
You get a little visit by the Sheriff!!!
Or better yet two Sheriffs!
In front of all your neighbors!!!
Of course if you are REALLY lucky like I was – you aren’t home when they visit so it just makes everyone wonder if it’s a meth lab in your basement or a side escort business that is about to bring you down.
In MY case – just an HONEST mistake. I swiped my card, it asked me if I wanted a car wash – I said no… It asked me if I wanted a receipt – I said no …just like always! Apparently it didn’t read my card and at the end of the visit – it also said to go inside in pay. I never looked up – so I just drove away. Although I drove away AFTER spending over 2 minutes sitting there cleaning out my glove compartment ripping up expired insurance cards and tossing them in the gas station garbage can. Now would I do THAT if I were also planning on stealing gas?
Anyhoo – I had just picked up my Mom who flew in from out of state for a nice long visit. On our way home from the airport, my sweet neighbor calls me on my cell to ask me if “everything is okay at my house”.
“Sure”, I reply, “Why???”
“Well, um, it’s just because, well…the Sheriff – actually two of them are at your house asking for you. They want to talk to you and they won’t tell us anything”.
Oh…my…gosh….
“Are my dogs loose???”
“No…”
“Is my alarm going off???”
“No…”
“Why are they there???”
She calmly replies she doesn’t know but I might want to call them. She sweetly gives me the non emergency number and I ring them up.
They give me the good news that I pumped and ditched at the local SA and now I better pay up or prove that I did.
I assure the Sheriff that I DID pay, but he assures me more strongly that I did not. :)
“How about this” the Sheriff suggests, “you go home and check your bank account. If you did pay – call me back at this number. If it turns out your card didn’t take – you need to go back and pay the station – tonight – or you’ll get another visit tonight – when the second shift guys come on.”
FOR REAL???
Apparently so.
So after I confirm that I AM a total duffus and I did not pay, I fly back to the SA and run in to pay. There is a very unexcited young lady working behind the desk and two completely scraggy icky guys perusing the junk food up by the cashier.
I tell her my story… I’m so sorry…I thought my card took….I absolutely believed I had paid, I would have never sat there for 2 minutes leaving personal information in the garbage if I was going to steal from them. Then I point out I never heard her say anything like, “Go ahead on Pump 9” which I typically hear when folks pay inside.
She cracks her gum really loud, then crinkles up her nose and says, “That’s cuz the intercom is broken on Pump 9”.
Oh.
Well now. That’s terribly helpful.
“Okay then, so you see then if I COULD HAVE heard you – I would have for sure come in and paid”.
She stares at me with her best “whatever” look then says, “So you gonna pay now?”
“Of course, of course” and I hand her my debit card JUST as the two scraggy guys bust out laughing. At ME!!!! They are actually physically mocking me – throwing their hands around like I do when I talk and mimicking me pleading with her – which I did NOT – I simply stated my case.
“Excuse me??? Are you MOCKING ME? I would like you to know I am NOT a felon! I am the quintessential soccer Mom (I am sure I lost them at quintessential). Look at me – a big purse, a mini van, a bunch of kids….SO not a felon. While YOU my creepy little friends – look like the type of folks that probably have body parts in your trunk – so why don’t you just buy your stupid little Frito Lays and Red Bull and MOVE ALONG?”
Okay I didn’t say that but I did think it. Instead I made a BIG POINT of walking out the door farthest from them to show them I was clearly in control. Total Alpha Dog.
As I pulled out I saw them go to leave. On bikes!!! Little bikes. They were like 45 years old!!! And they had their SA bags tied to their handle bars – smacking up against their bikes as they pedaled. One of them actually for totally real had the bike license plate that said, “I wish you were DSL – so I could get high speed access”.
And they were mocking ME?
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Toothless Joe
So I’m at McDonalds with Becca. She is finishing up a Happy Meal – a treat for going 24 hours without yelling at anyone. Yah, baby steps…
I’m finishing my coffee as Becca asks to go sit and watch the end of Kung Fu Panda on the 847 inch DVD screen that now replaces the Play Places. I guess they figure if you are eating 35 grams of fat in one meal, you are probably not that interested in exercise anyway. :)
Anyway, I send her over to watch the end of the video and I happily anticipate about 10 minutes of peace and relaxation. And my coffee is still hot. Perfect….
Not.
Out of the corner of my eye I see “Toothless Joe” approaching. Toothless Joe does not work where I fry donuts, but he frequents there and other local places I do – so I see more of him than necessary to make my life complete. He also has teeth, and is not named Joe. But that’s just what I’ll call him here…
He has an ear to ear grin…this can’t be good….I inwardly roll my eyes, or maybe I did it outwardly. Wouldn’t make any difference to Toothless Joe.
He sits down.
I give a closed mouth insincere smile, like you see on airline passenger’s faces when they realize yes you are sitting next to them and yes those kids are with you.
I try one last ditch effort to avoid this conversation and I start to busily gather up my stuff and look frantically at my watch - but he somehow misses my entire catalog of social cues….
“Say” he begins, “Can I ask yous (that’s you with an “s”) something?”
“Sure” I reply, with the absolute least amount of enthusiasm I can project.
Pause.
“Yous ever done time?”
I stare motionless at him, without blinking or moving, then I choke out, “Excuse me?”
Not missing a beat, he answers, “You know – hard time, jail time…the slammer???”
I stare open mouthed at him for a minute to let the full magnitude of what he’s asking sink in.
No Joe, I have never done time. I have no criminal record”.
“Uh huh” he replies not hearing me or believing me. “I was just thinking…a smart lady like you (he looks up and grins)…frying all day…well yous (again with an “s”) must have done something really bad to only be able to get this job!!!! Yuck yuck yuck yuck…he howls with laughter at his highly sophisticated humor.
My shoulders slump, I sigh and answer… “No Joe, I didn’t do anything “bad”. I just needed a job and this one was close and got me home before my kids got off the bus. So it worked for me.”
Again not hearing a word I say he goes on, “Well I didn’t figure yous no murderer. I thought maybe yous like… (he searches for the words but clearly has an image in his mind), yous like them Moms that put their kids in front of the TV, then sell drugs RIGHT out the front door – just like Avon!!!”
As he nearly splits a gut laughing at this idea – he reaches over the table to cheerfully punch me in the arm – I suspect to make sure I’m enjoying this exchange as much as him.
Now he turns completely serious and finishes with, “I didn’t figure yous for no hooker”.
Here I don’t know what’s more offensive. The idea that it does seem perfectly reasonable that I might line my kids up in front of the TV and then sell drugs right out the front door, “like Avon”.
OR
That I somehow don’t make the cut for hooker! I’m thinking, “What? You don’t think I could get clients?”
Then the reality of MY line of reasoning sinks in and I snap, “No Joe, I don’t sell drugs – like Avon, I’m not a hooker or a murderer. I have never done jail time and I have no criminal record”!
To which Joe playfully punches my shoulder AGAIN and says with a loud guffaw – “YET!”
Ba ha ha ha ha ha…he nearly falls out of his stool laughing.
Next time, we are going through the drive through.
Although I did actually have one tiny brush with the law this year… :) See next post!
I’m finishing my coffee as Becca asks to go sit and watch the end of Kung Fu Panda on the 847 inch DVD screen that now replaces the Play Places. I guess they figure if you are eating 35 grams of fat in one meal, you are probably not that interested in exercise anyway. :)
Anyway, I send her over to watch the end of the video and I happily anticipate about 10 minutes of peace and relaxation. And my coffee is still hot. Perfect….
Not.
Out of the corner of my eye I see “Toothless Joe” approaching. Toothless Joe does not work where I fry donuts, but he frequents there and other local places I do – so I see more of him than necessary to make my life complete. He also has teeth, and is not named Joe. But that’s just what I’ll call him here…
He has an ear to ear grin…this can’t be good….I inwardly roll my eyes, or maybe I did it outwardly. Wouldn’t make any difference to Toothless Joe.
He sits down.
I give a closed mouth insincere smile, like you see on airline passenger’s faces when they realize yes you are sitting next to them and yes those kids are with you.
I try one last ditch effort to avoid this conversation and I start to busily gather up my stuff and look frantically at my watch - but he somehow misses my entire catalog of social cues….
“Say” he begins, “Can I ask yous (that’s you with an “s”) something?”
“Sure” I reply, with the absolute least amount of enthusiasm I can project.
Pause.
“Yous ever done time?”
I stare motionless at him, without blinking or moving, then I choke out, “Excuse me?”
Not missing a beat, he answers, “You know – hard time, jail time…the slammer???”
I stare open mouthed at him for a minute to let the full magnitude of what he’s asking sink in.
No Joe, I have never done time. I have no criminal record”.
“Uh huh” he replies not hearing me or believing me. “I was just thinking…a smart lady like you (he looks up and grins)…frying all day…well yous (again with an “s”) must have done something really bad to only be able to get this job!!!! Yuck yuck yuck yuck…he howls with laughter at his highly sophisticated humor.
My shoulders slump, I sigh and answer… “No Joe, I didn’t do anything “bad”. I just needed a job and this one was close and got me home before my kids got off the bus. So it worked for me.”
Again not hearing a word I say he goes on, “Well I didn’t figure yous no murderer. I thought maybe yous like… (he searches for the words but clearly has an image in his mind), yous like them Moms that put their kids in front of the TV, then sell drugs RIGHT out the front door – just like Avon!!!”
As he nearly splits a gut laughing at this idea – he reaches over the table to cheerfully punch me in the arm – I suspect to make sure I’m enjoying this exchange as much as him.
Now he turns completely serious and finishes with, “I didn’t figure yous for no hooker”.
Here I don’t know what’s more offensive. The idea that it does seem perfectly reasonable that I might line my kids up in front of the TV and then sell drugs right out the front door, “like Avon”.
OR
That I somehow don’t make the cut for hooker! I’m thinking, “What? You don’t think I could get clients?”
Then the reality of MY line of reasoning sinks in and I snap, “No Joe, I don’t sell drugs – like Avon, I’m not a hooker or a murderer. I have never done jail time and I have no criminal record”!
To which Joe playfully punches my shoulder AGAIN and says with a loud guffaw – “YET!”
Ba ha ha ha ha ha…he nearly falls out of his stool laughing.
Next time, we are going through the drive through.
Although I did actually have one tiny brush with the law this year… :) See next post!
Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Special Order Guy
So day two flying solo in the bakery. Only a Tuesday – AND State Fair week so I was in luck. Customers might be low – demands low – pressure low - I could DO this… It’s 4:45 AM and I’m READY for this….
Until…
I saw the Special Order. There it sat at my station – mocking me – saying the piece of paper equivalent of “neener neener neener – you’re never gonna get it all done before we open now!!!” I sucked in a breath. APPARENTLY someone called in late the night before and wants THREE DOZEN BLINKING special order donuts by 7:15AM. Um, this is not part of my plan.
A born optimist, I press on and fly like a demon. I manage to fry my donuts, frost my donuts, bake my goodies, frost my goodies, make THREE DOZEN extra donuts and at 7:02AM I had the case mostly full. I was feeling GOOD! All I had to do was frost the LAST DOZEN for Special Order Guy. My station and my apron look like a total crime scene, but I’ll change that before customers arrive.
I head back to the bakery with frosting on my face, my apron filthy, a towel strung over my shoulder and I’m 5 feet from my station when I hear, “Excuse me…” There he is… Special Order Guy. EARLY! Dang.
“I am here for the 3 dozen donuts order”.
“Yup, yup you bet. I need just a minute to finish up okay?”
Translation: Please just go to Krispy Kreme next time okay?
I turn around and hand him a box. “Here, why don’t you take this box and chose a dozen you want from the case? Use two hands for the filled long johns – they are um, heavy."
“Sure thing” he says… I just bought myself 90 seconds…My hands start flying like a Benihana chef.
I decide to do the last dozen sprinkled. Now the thing about nice bakery frosting – is it hardens instantly. Soooo, you either frost then sprinkle right away, or your frosting gets too hard. But my gloves get covered with frosting so I have to change them after each frost-sprinkle punch and that takes like FOREVER. I need a quicker plan.
Therefore, I developed the frost and smash method.
I frost the donut – then drop it face down in a giant bin of sprinkles, then I drive it around upside down like a cute little Hot Wheels car and then I flip it over and it’s 100% covered in sprinkles!! Like wallpaper!!!
I consider this my signature move. :)
So if you ever see donuts with every single inch of frosting covered with three layers of sprinkles – know that I am working. Check the sample bin too – that will likely be full as well.
Special Order Guy is smiling and waiting for me to price his items.
I smile back and see folks heading to the case. I still have two trays to finish and bring out. I need to price these bad boys and get back to work.
I look down at the Label Maker. Snap. It’s got like 500 buttons on the front all set up to price items.
I probably should search thru the big book and find the code for 3 dozen mixed donuts, but then again, I should do a lot of things I don’t do.
Or I can just make up a code. I will just make up a code and then override the price so the entire deal ends up where I know the price would be if say, someone who actually knew how to work the machine, was working the machine.
Yah, that’s what I’m gonna do.
So I go to type in $3.99 and hit “enter” which promptly enters 399 into EVERY field. With no decimal point. Sweet!
Too late, I realize I just programmed this machine to print 399 labels that each say he owes $399 dollars.
The machine starts whizzing out a long stream of connected labels – the first of I suspect 399. I rip three off – snap it IS $399.00 dollars. I tell him not to worry I’ll just change it by hand and the gals up front will be fine with it (or I hope they will).
I casually hit every button that seems helpful like, “stop”, “end”, “power”, “cancel”, “self destruct”, no more labels”, “please make it end”, I’m gonna get fired” and “all done”.
Still churning!!!!
“Whoop-see!” I chirp as I start to direct the now 15+ foot snaking pile of labels away from our feet.
Special Order Guy’s eyes are getting big. He looks concerned. Join the club buddy.
I find a sharpie and start to correct the labels.
The pile now covers my feet and is climbing.
My sharpie smears on hot plastic labels.
I try to start over but I seriously cannot find the end of the pile on the floor to rip off the next label.
This is way past embarrassing.
I look up and smile. I smell burning now from the machine. I think it’s overheating.
Finally Special Order Guy can’t handle it anymore and he says, “Are you going to stop that?” and he points to where my feet would be if you could see them thru the label chain.
“Oh that???” I say and try to look surprised. “It’s just quirky that way. Does it all the time. Total pain – I should put a maintenance request in.”
Finally I manage to pull on the labels crooked and Cujo the Label Machine blessedly jams up and stops.
I cheerfully label all three boxes of donuts and wave goodbye. He asks me if I want help cleaning all that up – I wave him off with a “no no no I’m fine! Have a great day sir!”
He leaves, it take TWO HANDS to collect all these labels. I stuff them in the fryer garbage where at least only I will have to look at them all day and I am quite sure I’ll have plenty of biffed donuts to weigh them down.
Later as I fry, it occurs to me I must have made my Really Cool Store Manager’s Day when he sees the accounting report that says the Bakery just did $159,000 in sales today. :)
I see a promotion in my future.
Until…
I saw the Special Order. There it sat at my station – mocking me – saying the piece of paper equivalent of “neener neener neener – you’re never gonna get it all done before we open now!!!” I sucked in a breath. APPARENTLY someone called in late the night before and wants THREE DOZEN BLINKING special order donuts by 7:15AM. Um, this is not part of my plan.
A born optimist, I press on and fly like a demon. I manage to fry my donuts, frost my donuts, bake my goodies, frost my goodies, make THREE DOZEN extra donuts and at 7:02AM I had the case mostly full. I was feeling GOOD! All I had to do was frost the LAST DOZEN for Special Order Guy. My station and my apron look like a total crime scene, but I’ll change that before customers arrive.
I head back to the bakery with frosting on my face, my apron filthy, a towel strung over my shoulder and I’m 5 feet from my station when I hear, “Excuse me…” There he is… Special Order Guy. EARLY! Dang.
“I am here for the 3 dozen donuts order”.
“Yup, yup you bet. I need just a minute to finish up okay?”
Translation: Please just go to Krispy Kreme next time okay?
I turn around and hand him a box. “Here, why don’t you take this box and chose a dozen you want from the case? Use two hands for the filled long johns – they are um, heavy."
“Sure thing” he says… I just bought myself 90 seconds…My hands start flying like a Benihana chef.
I decide to do the last dozen sprinkled. Now the thing about nice bakery frosting – is it hardens instantly. Soooo, you either frost then sprinkle right away, or your frosting gets too hard. But my gloves get covered with frosting so I have to change them after each frost-sprinkle punch and that takes like FOREVER. I need a quicker plan.
Therefore, I developed the frost and smash method.
I frost the donut – then drop it face down in a giant bin of sprinkles, then I drive it around upside down like a cute little Hot Wheels car and then I flip it over and it’s 100% covered in sprinkles!! Like wallpaper!!!
I consider this my signature move. :)
So if you ever see donuts with every single inch of frosting covered with three layers of sprinkles – know that I am working. Check the sample bin too – that will likely be full as well.
Special Order Guy is smiling and waiting for me to price his items.
I smile back and see folks heading to the case. I still have two trays to finish and bring out. I need to price these bad boys and get back to work.
I look down at the Label Maker. Snap. It’s got like 500 buttons on the front all set up to price items.
I probably should search thru the big book and find the code for 3 dozen mixed donuts, but then again, I should do a lot of things I don’t do.
Or I can just make up a code. I will just make up a code and then override the price so the entire deal ends up where I know the price would be if say, someone who actually knew how to work the machine, was working the machine.
Yah, that’s what I’m gonna do.
So I go to type in $3.99 and hit “enter” which promptly enters 399 into EVERY field. With no decimal point. Sweet!
Too late, I realize I just programmed this machine to print 399 labels that each say he owes $399 dollars.
The machine starts whizzing out a long stream of connected labels – the first of I suspect 399. I rip three off – snap it IS $399.00 dollars. I tell him not to worry I’ll just change it by hand and the gals up front will be fine with it (or I hope they will).
I casually hit every button that seems helpful like, “stop”, “end”, “power”, “cancel”, “self destruct”, no more labels”, “please make it end”, I’m gonna get fired” and “all done”.
Still churning!!!!
“Whoop-see!” I chirp as I start to direct the now 15+ foot snaking pile of labels away from our feet.
Special Order Guy’s eyes are getting big. He looks concerned. Join the club buddy.
I find a sharpie and start to correct the labels.
The pile now covers my feet and is climbing.
My sharpie smears on hot plastic labels.
I try to start over but I seriously cannot find the end of the pile on the floor to rip off the next label.
This is way past embarrassing.
I look up and smile. I smell burning now from the machine. I think it’s overheating.
Finally Special Order Guy can’t handle it anymore and he says, “Are you going to stop that?” and he points to where my feet would be if you could see them thru the label chain.
“Oh that???” I say and try to look surprised. “It’s just quirky that way. Does it all the time. Total pain – I should put a maintenance request in.”
Finally I manage to pull on the labels crooked and Cujo the Label Machine blessedly jams up and stops.
I cheerfully label all three boxes of donuts and wave goodbye. He asks me if I want help cleaning all that up – I wave him off with a “no no no I’m fine! Have a great day sir!”
He leaves, it take TWO HANDS to collect all these labels. I stuff them in the fryer garbage where at least only I will have to look at them all day and I am quite sure I’ll have plenty of biffed donuts to weigh them down.
Later as I fry, it occurs to me I must have made my Really Cool Store Manager’s Day when he sees the accounting report that says the Bakery just did $159,000 in sales today. :)
I see a promotion in my future.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
You can't make this up - people are, um, funny...
So I am frying one morning, I’m not alone but the baker with me is working in the deep freezer – my least favorite job so I’m happy I’m working the smokey fryer instead. We have just got the trays of donuts out, looking fine I might add. However, I had a particularly messy morning and I have splattered grease down my fryer and all over the floor in about a 3 foot radius around me. I will continue to fry all day, and have found that as you stand in your non stick sensible white safety shoes…on a non stick greasy floor...you sliiiiiiiiidddddddddeee nicely like a marble on a car hood. This is not helpful when you fry. Especially if you are me - I don't need anymore deducts.
So, I grab a bucket of soapy water and some rags. I kneel down on the greasy floor and get to work scrubbing away, splashing dirty water all over my not very white whites anymore. It’s messy and very hot work as the fryer is radiating heat inches from my head. Soon, a gentleman walks right into my fry station with a small donut bag in his hand. I have never seen a customer walk right into the fryer room. I stare at him in surprise.
“Excuse me” he says.
“Hi, can I help you?” I say as I wonder if he's going to walk right into my greasy water puddle, because he seems pretty irritated now and I suspect that will just make it worse.
“Yah, you can help me, I want to know why you don’t offer healthy alternatives in the donut case?” and he leaves his eyebrows all pulled up goofy on his face I assume to make it clear he is waiting for an answer.
I sit back on my heels and brush the wisps of hair out my face as I ponder the oxymoron of “healthy alternatives in the donut case”.
"Um, well, there are some better choices…we do offer some bread and muffins in the case - not just donuts”.
“I know that!" he snaps as he thrusts his non see thru so I have no idea what's in it bag right at me. "I have to eat a dinner roll now for breakfast because you (he jabs the air with his bag) don’t stock something healthy. Don’t you people realize there is an epidemic of obesity in this country? And it starts with you – the local grocer – and what kinds of choices you give consumers. And if you don’t start rethinking your inventory – you will start losing customers. You need to have your finger on the pulse of society and society wants healthy. So what changes will you make now?”
I wait for him to finish as my wet rag seeps into my jeans. I tilt my head in amazement, smile and reply, “Sir, it’s 7:10AM on a Monday morning and I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the underside of a 50 gallon vat of deep fryer grease. No disrespect intended, but what part of this scene here is saying to you that I might be upper management?”
Silence.
The man just stares at me. Then he thrusts his bag towards me and grumbles, “Oh just ring up my rolls”.
“Okay,” I smile again, “Let’s review. To GET into my little windowless fryer hovel, you had to go through that doorway that said, “Employees Only – No Entry”. There are no cash registers here sir. I am not allowed to ring people up. I’m not allowed to handle money. In fact I’m not even allowed to decide which donuts get sprinkles. You will need to head up front and check out with a cashier, and then head to the Customer Serve Desk and ask to speak to the Manager about what we stock in the donut case."
“Oh I’ll be speaking to the Manager! I’ll be talking to him alright! I will be telling him what is going on BACK…HERE….!!!”
I chirp “Have a nice day” as the man spins on his heel and marches away but really I’m laughing inside wondering what the heck he thinks the Manager is going to do to me? Demote me? Dude – I’m the JUNIOR Donut Fryer – there’s nowhere but up from here.
Seriously, truth is stranger than fiction and people are funny.
So, I grab a bucket of soapy water and some rags. I kneel down on the greasy floor and get to work scrubbing away, splashing dirty water all over my not very white whites anymore. It’s messy and very hot work as the fryer is radiating heat inches from my head. Soon, a gentleman walks right into my fry station with a small donut bag in his hand. I have never seen a customer walk right into the fryer room. I stare at him in surprise.
“Excuse me” he says.
“Hi, can I help you?” I say as I wonder if he's going to walk right into my greasy water puddle, because he seems pretty irritated now and I suspect that will just make it worse.
“Yah, you can help me, I want to know why you don’t offer healthy alternatives in the donut case?” and he leaves his eyebrows all pulled up goofy on his face I assume to make it clear he is waiting for an answer.
I sit back on my heels and brush the wisps of hair out my face as I ponder the oxymoron of “healthy alternatives in the donut case”.
"Um, well, there are some better choices…we do offer some bread and muffins in the case - not just donuts”.
“I know that!" he snaps as he thrusts his non see thru so I have no idea what's in it bag right at me. "I have to eat a dinner roll now for breakfast because you (he jabs the air with his bag) don’t stock something healthy. Don’t you people realize there is an epidemic of obesity in this country? And it starts with you – the local grocer – and what kinds of choices you give consumers. And if you don’t start rethinking your inventory – you will start losing customers. You need to have your finger on the pulse of society and society wants healthy. So what changes will you make now?”
I wait for him to finish as my wet rag seeps into my jeans. I tilt my head in amazement, smile and reply, “Sir, it’s 7:10AM on a Monday morning and I’m on my hands and knees scrubbing the underside of a 50 gallon vat of deep fryer grease. No disrespect intended, but what part of this scene here is saying to you that I might be upper management?”
Silence.
The man just stares at me. Then he thrusts his bag towards me and grumbles, “Oh just ring up my rolls”.
“Okay,” I smile again, “Let’s review. To GET into my little windowless fryer hovel, you had to go through that doorway that said, “Employees Only – No Entry”. There are no cash registers here sir. I am not allowed to ring people up. I’m not allowed to handle money. In fact I’m not even allowed to decide which donuts get sprinkles. You will need to head up front and check out with a cashier, and then head to the Customer Serve Desk and ask to speak to the Manager about what we stock in the donut case."
“Oh I’ll be speaking to the Manager! I’ll be talking to him alright! I will be telling him what is going on BACK…HERE….!!!”
I chirp “Have a nice day” as the man spins on his heel and marches away but really I’m laughing inside wondering what the heck he thinks the Manager is going to do to me? Demote me? Dude – I’m the JUNIOR Donut Fryer – there’s nowhere but up from here.
Seriously, truth is stranger than fiction and people are funny.
Fryer Truth 101
So I did it. I flew solo at the fryer. And I discovered a great truth that can only be revealed by trial thru fire…
Everything
Sells
With
Enough
Frosting
:)
There you go. Fryer Truth 101.
Actually the day was in fact rather stressful. The Smiling Bookkeeper let me in at 4:45AM, I hastily punched in and flew to the bakery. Fryer on…check…dough warmers on…check…oven on…check… so far so good. I pulled out the two racks of dough and pastries out of the cooler and park them by me so they can tower over me – mocking me just a tad... they know…. Here’s where I get a little foggy. Although I had four pages of typed up notes – I still was not able to match the name to the item quickly. That’s because we have, for example, about 9 things that LOOK like cinnamon rolls to me, but these cinnamon roll look alikes have names that are deceptively deceiving such as “apple fritters”. For real – our dough version apple fritter would be a slam dunk cinnamon roll in the real world. So I took my best guess and called it good. Moving right along, I shift the trays around to split them between cooler, proofer (100 degree warming station for the dough to rise) and oven.
I was not entirely sure what took 35 minutes in the proofer and what took 105 minutes (there are 40+ unique items) – to which I would discover those last pesky 70 minutes of rising time do, um, matter. Well they don’t matter if you don’t care if your pastries looked like a tortilla. But for the ULTRA PICKY who want poofy pastries – yah I guess it matters.
Once in the oven, things start coming out in the following (no joke) minute increments…4, 11, 16, 26, 35 and “when done”. I have one timer on the oven panel I keep resetting. WHILE I am baby-sitting these time increments, I am supposed to be over at my station, frosting the first few trays of donuts the Super Hard Working Sr Fryer fried up for me the night before precisely because she knew there was no way in thunder I could mix dough, fry, frost and manage to pull out pastries in those increments all morning. Thanks to her kindness, I would get to skip making the first batch of dough and even with that gimme – I already am behind the 8 ball.
I check my proofer and see I forgot the muffins in the back AND they never were SUPPOSED to be in the proofer in the first place! Duh, they are self rising. As I push the giant rack with now just muffins on it, into the oven late, I wonder, “Now how to remember they are in there?” I set a random timer for 30 minutes to gauge doneness. Now I have my oven panel timer, my microwave timer (to loosen up frosting that has hardened while I’m dinking around with timers), my dough mixer timer, my proofer timer and now my random timer for things I forgot to put in the oven but have a different time than the other things in the over. Yah. Exactly. It sounds like a blinking pinball machine in the bakery about now with all these timers beeping. Nice.
I keep up this pace till about 6:15 AM when I have most of the precooked donuts frosted, I think everything baked and I am feeling pretty good. TILL I turn around to see all my risen trays of dough donuts – falling! Snap I need to start frying and right now…
So I start to fry, and frost, and run back and forth to the oven, and fry and frost and I’m trying to do too much, too fast and I start to get careless and I slam that last tray of bismarks into the hot fryer grease at just the right angle where a medium sized tidal wave of bubbly hot grease splashes up and manages to get BETWEEN my glove and my hand!! AWESOME!!!! Can I tell you how much this smarts? A lot. Despite it frying my skin as I stand there, I quickly flip my bismarks otherwise I’ll have both a grease fire AND a skin graft in my near future. I run to the sink and thrust my arm under the cold water for about 60 seconds till beepers everywhere start going off. I sigh and try to block out the pain AND the beeping…. I see the sun coming up outside which means PEOPLE are coming soon. I hear sizzling from the fryer which means something is probably ON FIRE. They frown on that here…. I wish I were my kitty…asleep at the foot of my bed….
Gripping my now blistering wrist, I prepare to turn over the goopy pan of cinnamon rolls and pecan rolls and I look up – it’s 6:25. Something should be coming out of the PROOFER now. Dang, what was it??? Think think think Lisa….something needed a really long time to rise and I took it out too early…. I try to shake out the sticky buns and nothing happens. I continue to shake the monstrously heavy pan and some dribbles of caramel fall out. Snap. This can’t be good. Huge, rich, sticky buns should be tumbling out…. They always do for the Nicer Than Nice Manager…. I heave the ginormous heavy pan up so I can see underneath. All I see is caramel oozing out behind sunken dough and sliding down my red hot burn. Owwwwww….. I wonder if the burn unit has a walk in center for fryer dorks….
I set down the pan – SNAP – it was this blinking pan that should STILL be rising in the proofer – not already done baking!!!! NOTHING has risen and I have cooked the unrisen rolls and buns to a fine toasty brown but they are only about 1/4th of an inch high. Well we are T Minus 20 minutes to open so the stupid buns are going to have to fly somehow.
I dig them out with a knife and it’s not pretty. Total crime scene – ugh – only my dogs (who eat siding and insulation) would consider eating this muck. I throw half away and pray everyone that normally buys cinnamon rolls is at the State Fair today. I manage to keep about 4 buns and rolls but they are on total life support. I HAVE to resuscitate them – or that entire tray in the case will be EMPTY. Not good, for sure someone will notice that… I think, I think, I think – VOILA!!! MORE TOPPINGS!!!!! I get a tray and arrange them pretty. Okay they still look like I drove over them with my van. Keep thinking… I drizzle a ton of glaze on them (we don’t normally glaze them) and it ends up looking freakishly shiny - like maybe I sprayed shellac on them. Now they are both shiny AND flat instead of toasty brown and poofy. I know - More almonds! More pecans! I run to the nut bins and cover the scene in nuts. Bad idea as these aren’t browned and they look cold and waxy. More GLAZE to cover up the raw nuts. Snap snap snap. Now I have like sticky bun crepes, with a greasy sheen and raw nuts on top. Mmmm… I’m just sure these will fly off the shelf. I shove them to the back of the tray and put my huge Angus Burger look alike Cherry Fritters in front.
I hear my Manager arrive and she is heading for my trays… I swallow hard and am grateful she is such an encourager….
Later that day – I returned to the Marketplace to shop. I believe my Manager quietly – retaining my dignity – tossed my mangled mess of sticky buns. But the rest of what I made – by golly that sold. I think that in the end, more is better when it comes to confectionary toppings, people already with a hand in the donut case are going to pick SOMETHING – they are not going that far and turning around because my scones look like VCR tapes and my sticky buns look like squished wonder bread. In fact I just had a guy buy something anyway - just because he was there - but not before he gave me a piece of his mind….see next post….
Everything
Sells
With
Enough
Frosting
:)
There you go. Fryer Truth 101.
Actually the day was in fact rather stressful. The Smiling Bookkeeper let me in at 4:45AM, I hastily punched in and flew to the bakery. Fryer on…check…dough warmers on…check…oven on…check… so far so good. I pulled out the two racks of dough and pastries out of the cooler and park them by me so they can tower over me – mocking me just a tad... they know…. Here’s where I get a little foggy. Although I had four pages of typed up notes – I still was not able to match the name to the item quickly. That’s because we have, for example, about 9 things that LOOK like cinnamon rolls to me, but these cinnamon roll look alikes have names that are deceptively deceiving such as “apple fritters”. For real – our dough version apple fritter would be a slam dunk cinnamon roll in the real world. So I took my best guess and called it good. Moving right along, I shift the trays around to split them between cooler, proofer (100 degree warming station for the dough to rise) and oven.
I was not entirely sure what took 35 minutes in the proofer and what took 105 minutes (there are 40+ unique items) – to which I would discover those last pesky 70 minutes of rising time do, um, matter. Well they don’t matter if you don’t care if your pastries looked like a tortilla. But for the ULTRA PICKY who want poofy pastries – yah I guess it matters.
Once in the oven, things start coming out in the following (no joke) minute increments…4, 11, 16, 26, 35 and “when done”. I have one timer on the oven panel I keep resetting. WHILE I am baby-sitting these time increments, I am supposed to be over at my station, frosting the first few trays of donuts the Super Hard Working Sr Fryer fried up for me the night before precisely because she knew there was no way in thunder I could mix dough, fry, frost and manage to pull out pastries in those increments all morning. Thanks to her kindness, I would get to skip making the first batch of dough and even with that gimme – I already am behind the 8 ball.
I check my proofer and see I forgot the muffins in the back AND they never were SUPPOSED to be in the proofer in the first place! Duh, they are self rising. As I push the giant rack with now just muffins on it, into the oven late, I wonder, “Now how to remember they are in there?” I set a random timer for 30 minutes to gauge doneness. Now I have my oven panel timer, my microwave timer (to loosen up frosting that has hardened while I’m dinking around with timers), my dough mixer timer, my proofer timer and now my random timer for things I forgot to put in the oven but have a different time than the other things in the over. Yah. Exactly. It sounds like a blinking pinball machine in the bakery about now with all these timers beeping. Nice.
I keep up this pace till about 6:15 AM when I have most of the precooked donuts frosted, I think everything baked and I am feeling pretty good. TILL I turn around to see all my risen trays of dough donuts – falling! Snap I need to start frying and right now…
So I start to fry, and frost, and run back and forth to the oven, and fry and frost and I’m trying to do too much, too fast and I start to get careless and I slam that last tray of bismarks into the hot fryer grease at just the right angle where a medium sized tidal wave of bubbly hot grease splashes up and manages to get BETWEEN my glove and my hand!! AWESOME!!!! Can I tell you how much this smarts? A lot. Despite it frying my skin as I stand there, I quickly flip my bismarks otherwise I’ll have both a grease fire AND a skin graft in my near future. I run to the sink and thrust my arm under the cold water for about 60 seconds till beepers everywhere start going off. I sigh and try to block out the pain AND the beeping…. I see the sun coming up outside which means PEOPLE are coming soon. I hear sizzling from the fryer which means something is probably ON FIRE. They frown on that here…. I wish I were my kitty…asleep at the foot of my bed….
Gripping my now blistering wrist, I prepare to turn over the goopy pan of cinnamon rolls and pecan rolls and I look up – it’s 6:25. Something should be coming out of the PROOFER now. Dang, what was it??? Think think think Lisa….something needed a really long time to rise and I took it out too early…. I try to shake out the sticky buns and nothing happens. I continue to shake the monstrously heavy pan and some dribbles of caramel fall out. Snap. This can’t be good. Huge, rich, sticky buns should be tumbling out…. They always do for the Nicer Than Nice Manager…. I heave the ginormous heavy pan up so I can see underneath. All I see is caramel oozing out behind sunken dough and sliding down my red hot burn. Owwwwww….. I wonder if the burn unit has a walk in center for fryer dorks….
I set down the pan – SNAP – it was this blinking pan that should STILL be rising in the proofer – not already done baking!!!! NOTHING has risen and I have cooked the unrisen rolls and buns to a fine toasty brown but they are only about 1/4th of an inch high. Well we are T Minus 20 minutes to open so the stupid buns are going to have to fly somehow.
I dig them out with a knife and it’s not pretty. Total crime scene – ugh – only my dogs (who eat siding and insulation) would consider eating this muck. I throw half away and pray everyone that normally buys cinnamon rolls is at the State Fair today. I manage to keep about 4 buns and rolls but they are on total life support. I HAVE to resuscitate them – or that entire tray in the case will be EMPTY. Not good, for sure someone will notice that… I think, I think, I think – VOILA!!! MORE TOPPINGS!!!!! I get a tray and arrange them pretty. Okay they still look like I drove over them with my van. Keep thinking… I drizzle a ton of glaze on them (we don’t normally glaze them) and it ends up looking freakishly shiny - like maybe I sprayed shellac on them. Now they are both shiny AND flat instead of toasty brown and poofy. I know - More almonds! More pecans! I run to the nut bins and cover the scene in nuts. Bad idea as these aren’t browned and they look cold and waxy. More GLAZE to cover up the raw nuts. Snap snap snap. Now I have like sticky bun crepes, with a greasy sheen and raw nuts on top. Mmmm… I’m just sure these will fly off the shelf. I shove them to the back of the tray and put my huge Angus Burger look alike Cherry Fritters in front.
I hear my Manager arrive and she is heading for my trays… I swallow hard and am grateful she is such an encourager….
Later that day – I returned to the Marketplace to shop. I believe my Manager quietly – retaining my dignity – tossed my mangled mess of sticky buns. But the rest of what I made – by golly that sold. I think that in the end, more is better when it comes to confectionary toppings, people already with a hand in the donut case are going to pick SOMETHING – they are not going that far and turning around because my scones look like VCR tapes and my sticky buns look like squished wonder bread. In fact I just had a guy buy something anyway - just because he was there - but not before he gave me a piece of his mind….see next post….
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Synergy
So I’m decorating today. I’m supposed to be BOTH frying and decorating but when it was 10 minutes till store open (we arrive 2 hours in advance to have this all done) – and I had only fried 6 of 28 screens (each screen has about 15 donuts on it), my Nicer Than Nice Manager who was utterly swamped with her own job of running the entire bakery – sweetly announces she suddenly seemed to be completely out of things to do so would I mind if she helped me fry. Translation: we are both gonna lose our jobs if you don’t pick up the pace chickey.
I say “Sure, here’s a pointy stick – fry away”.
Now I have only been working the fry/decorate situation for a week. But I’m already looking to spice up the color combinations we must do for the donut case. Chocolate frosting with purple sprinkles. White frosting with pink sprinkles. Donuts holes with glaze…yawn….
I don’t know why I don’t first master THIS system. The very first day I frosted, I was out restocking the donut case. A nice gentleman was perusing the donuts – with a confused sort of look on his face. He was staring at my tray of turbo sprinkled long johns, with gloppy explosions of custard leaking out of fissures in the top because I overfilled them. YUM! I smiled at him and he kept looking at the tray. I wanted to say, “Oh didn’t you see the sign? It’s Crack Tuesday. On Crack Tuesday we all smoke crack and then see who decorates the best. How’d we do???” But I didn’t say that, I said, “Good Morning” instead.
He ended up just buying a baguette. Safe choice, I have no contact with baguettes.
So I apparently think I can improve on this tried and true cash cow system and since I’m clearly overestimating my marketing abilities – I assume I can also hand create intricate designs with only a spatula and lumpy frosting even though I have 21 trays of donut dough behind me all slowing collapsing because they need to be fried!
Details!
I am a mission to create a “new design”. I decide to use dark chocolate and white frosting– and make sort of “ying yang” designs – like the synergy symbol! HOW COOL will that be??? HUH? Pretty cool.
Yes it would be if I actually had any creative talent but I’m bear bait girl so I should have stuck to white frosting with pink sprinkles.
I spent about 15 minutes trying to get thicky blobby frosting into an intricate ying/yang picture with a metal spatula and my greasy gloved hands. I think there was a small fire in the fryer during this time, but I never looked up from my frosting station. I think I was supposed to be monitoring that as well...whoops.
The end result doesn’t exactly say, “Far East”, but you can for sure tell there are TWO colors and NO PINK sprinkles!
I walk past my Nicer Than Nice Manager with my four creations. She assumes I have been back there oh, wrapping up those last 300 donuts that need to be done in 7 minutes. Nope, still working on those four leftover donuts you said to “just quickly frost” and bring out.
Well I don’t get paid the big bucks to “just frost!”
I set my tray down to show her. She says with some concern, “Oh, that’s, um, that’s ... What is that?!”
I proudly reply, “It’s the SYNERGY sign – get it – like Ying/Yang?”
“Ohhhhh” she says slowly, like I just announced I’m only using frosting in earth tones now.
I put them in the case with CONFIDENCE they will sell.
I am DELIGHTED that not 3 minutes later I see a little boy and his Mom pick a Synergy donut!
I imagine ALL my freehand donuts FLYING OUT of the case! I get promoted, they hire other artistically challenged decorators, they expand the case and I get my own parking spot! Clearly I spend a lot of time day dreaming at my smokey fry station.
The nice little boy walks up to me, opens his hands to reveal his SYNERGY donut and says, “Can you put sprinkles on this please?”
“Excuse me?” I say and I lean down towards him, even though I heard him perfectly fine.
He repeats himself and this time his Mom says, “He wants the pink sprinkles. Like you always have on the white frosting ones”.
I do my best flight attendant welcome aboard smile, I kneel down and say to the boy, “You know what? That donut is special! That is not a pink sprinkle donut because that is a SYNERGY donut! Can you say Synergy????”
He shakes his head no and can’t stop staring at the glob of dried orange frosting on my shoe that has a dirty price tag apparently stuck to it. Cool.
“Well SYNERGY is a really fun sign from the Far East. Maybe you have seen it on the show Avatar – you know the air bender kid?”
“He only watches PBS” his Mom quips, “and he’d like sprinkles on it. Can you put on sprinkles? Pink sprinkles – like always”.
“Sure” I sigh, “Wait here, I’ll be right back” and I take my Picasso and turn it into a Velvet Elvis.
When I left work at 1:00PM that day, there were still three SYNERGY donuts left.
I did accidentally put tutti frutti sprinkles on a maple frosting long john. Ewww. I’m sure that ick combo will be there in the morning.
Still some ugly brownie cakes left!!!!
UPDATE: ALL the Synergy donuts sold!!!! The tutti frutti sprinkles on maple sold. But, the ugly brownie cakes still sit there and stare menacingly at me. Please someone buy them. Please.
FRIDAY – my next work day – I fly SOLO! I open the bakery and I “supposedly” will have everything close to ready to open in 2 hours – all by myself. This means I will prepare about 300 donuts, some from scratch, some from frozen dough that we shape, all of it gets put in the warming proofer to rise then the “clock” starts to get it fried before it sinkkkksss… I will bake scones, turnovers, filled croissants, caramel rolls and Danishes. Then I will fry and frost 150 donuts. I will get this all done alone, and put in the case looking appetizing and delectable by 6:59AM. Or so my job description says.
So if you come looking for donuts on Friday – show some mercy. Behind that wall, in the little windowless fryer hovel that is my work station, will be me, bent over a fryer with frosting all over my hands and face and white uniform trying to fish out loose donuts with my pointy stick as I squint thru fryer smoke, all the while trying to fill dozens of long johns with custard then create rows of perfect butter cream frosting flowers over the top.
I’m looking forward to the challenge. :)
I say “Sure, here’s a pointy stick – fry away”.
Now I have only been working the fry/decorate situation for a week. But I’m already looking to spice up the color combinations we must do for the donut case. Chocolate frosting with purple sprinkles. White frosting with pink sprinkles. Donuts holes with glaze…yawn….
I don’t know why I don’t first master THIS system. The very first day I frosted, I was out restocking the donut case. A nice gentleman was perusing the donuts – with a confused sort of look on his face. He was staring at my tray of turbo sprinkled long johns, with gloppy explosions of custard leaking out of fissures in the top because I overfilled them. YUM! I smiled at him and he kept looking at the tray. I wanted to say, “Oh didn’t you see the sign? It’s Crack Tuesday. On Crack Tuesday we all smoke crack and then see who decorates the best. How’d we do???” But I didn’t say that, I said, “Good Morning” instead.
He ended up just buying a baguette. Safe choice, I have no contact with baguettes.
So I apparently think I can improve on this tried and true cash cow system and since I’m clearly overestimating my marketing abilities – I assume I can also hand create intricate designs with only a spatula and lumpy frosting even though I have 21 trays of donut dough behind me all slowing collapsing because they need to be fried!
Details!
I am a mission to create a “new design”. I decide to use dark chocolate and white frosting– and make sort of “ying yang” designs – like the synergy symbol! HOW COOL will that be??? HUH? Pretty cool.
Yes it would be if I actually had any creative talent but I’m bear bait girl so I should have stuck to white frosting with pink sprinkles.
I spent about 15 minutes trying to get thicky blobby frosting into an intricate ying/yang picture with a metal spatula and my greasy gloved hands. I think there was a small fire in the fryer during this time, but I never looked up from my frosting station. I think I was supposed to be monitoring that as well...whoops.
The end result doesn’t exactly say, “Far East”, but you can for sure tell there are TWO colors and NO PINK sprinkles!
I walk past my Nicer Than Nice Manager with my four creations. She assumes I have been back there oh, wrapping up those last 300 donuts that need to be done in 7 minutes. Nope, still working on those four leftover donuts you said to “just quickly frost” and bring out.
Well I don’t get paid the big bucks to “just frost!”
I set my tray down to show her. She says with some concern, “Oh, that’s, um, that’s ... What is that?!”
I proudly reply, “It’s the SYNERGY sign – get it – like Ying/Yang?”
“Ohhhhh” she says slowly, like I just announced I’m only using frosting in earth tones now.
I put them in the case with CONFIDENCE they will sell.
I am DELIGHTED that not 3 minutes later I see a little boy and his Mom pick a Synergy donut!
I imagine ALL my freehand donuts FLYING OUT of the case! I get promoted, they hire other artistically challenged decorators, they expand the case and I get my own parking spot! Clearly I spend a lot of time day dreaming at my smokey fry station.
The nice little boy walks up to me, opens his hands to reveal his SYNERGY donut and says, “Can you put sprinkles on this please?”
“Excuse me?” I say and I lean down towards him, even though I heard him perfectly fine.
He repeats himself and this time his Mom says, “He wants the pink sprinkles. Like you always have on the white frosting ones”.
I do my best flight attendant welcome aboard smile, I kneel down and say to the boy, “You know what? That donut is special! That is not a pink sprinkle donut because that is a SYNERGY donut! Can you say Synergy????”
He shakes his head no and can’t stop staring at the glob of dried orange frosting on my shoe that has a dirty price tag apparently stuck to it. Cool.
“Well SYNERGY is a really fun sign from the Far East. Maybe you have seen it on the show Avatar – you know the air bender kid?”
“He only watches PBS” his Mom quips, “and he’d like sprinkles on it. Can you put on sprinkles? Pink sprinkles – like always”.
“Sure” I sigh, “Wait here, I’ll be right back” and I take my Picasso and turn it into a Velvet Elvis.
When I left work at 1:00PM that day, there were still three SYNERGY donuts left.
I did accidentally put tutti frutti sprinkles on a maple frosting long john. Ewww. I’m sure that ick combo will be there in the morning.
Still some ugly brownie cakes left!!!!
UPDATE: ALL the Synergy donuts sold!!!! The tutti frutti sprinkles on maple sold. But, the ugly brownie cakes still sit there and stare menacingly at me. Please someone buy them. Please.
FRIDAY – my next work day – I fly SOLO! I open the bakery and I “supposedly” will have everything close to ready to open in 2 hours – all by myself. This means I will prepare about 300 donuts, some from scratch, some from frozen dough that we shape, all of it gets put in the warming proofer to rise then the “clock” starts to get it fried before it sinkkkksss… I will bake scones, turnovers, filled croissants, caramel rolls and Danishes. Then I will fry and frost 150 donuts. I will get this all done alone, and put in the case looking appetizing and delectable by 6:59AM. Or so my job description says.
So if you come looking for donuts on Friday – show some mercy. Behind that wall, in the little windowless fryer hovel that is my work station, will be me, bent over a fryer with frosting all over my hands and face and white uniform trying to fish out loose donuts with my pointy stick as I squint thru fryer smoke, all the while trying to fill dozens of long johns with custard then create rows of perfect butter cream frosting flowers over the top.
I’m looking forward to the challenge. :)
Sunday, August 22, 2010
A bear somewhere owes me a day of his life...
...because my UGLY DONUTS SOLD!!!! Every blinking one of them. So no bear bait today.
But, there's always a new day to make even uglier donuts.
HOWEVER - I have discovered that the under 10 crowd RUSHES to MY items because I put soooo much frosting and suuuuuuuuccccccccchhh heavy toppings - their little eyes bug right out at the thought they might get that REALLY thick one!
After perusing my selection of turbo frosted items, I had one elderly gentlmen most respectfully ask for a "simple long john, no filling, just a small amount of maple frosting please". God bless him, I guess he's old school. I was happy to make it for him though.
Tomorrow I try to BOTH fry them AND decorate them..... :) My life is never ending drama and glamour.
But, there's always a new day to make even uglier donuts.
HOWEVER - I have discovered that the under 10 crowd RUSHES to MY items because I put soooo much frosting and suuuuuuuuccccccccchhh heavy toppings - their little eyes bug right out at the thought they might get that REALLY thick one!
After perusing my selection of turbo frosted items, I had one elderly gentlmen most respectfully ask for a "simple long john, no filling, just a small amount of maple frosting please". God bless him, I guess he's old school. I was happy to make it for him though.
Tomorrow I try to BOTH fry them AND decorate them..... :) My life is never ending drama and glamour.
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