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.