It's probably every day that a customer asks the question, "what does NSA stand for?"
This inquiry is a fair one, as the acronym "NSA" is added to the label of "Maple Walnut" and "Butterscotch Ripple" in the freezer on the far side. It seems that the ice cream company didn't consider the fact that NSA ceases to be a well-known acronym, and few people know what it really stands for: No Sugar Added.
The day was winding to a close when a friend of mine wandered into the shop with his iPhone and a few buddies. He slaved over his ordering decision for several minutes, humming and hawing over the soft serve, the hard ice cream, and the frozen yogurt. He made his way to the "NSA" section. I watched his face draw to confusion, and prepared myself to answer what I was sure his next question would be.
"NSA? What does that stand for?" he asked, before coming to his own conclusion, "No Strings Attached?"
If only No Strings Attached ice cream really did exist.
Sunday 5 August 2012
Ice cream brings people together
I don't call myself a child psychologist, but I do know that something's wrong when a child thinks that he's a dog.
This particular family yielded a 3 year old child who came in on his hands and knees. He was jumping around on the floor, barking, while his parents ordered. Another woman, perhaps his aunt, stood off to the side with a look of exasperation.
His mother turned around to yell at him after every few words, with the words "Get up, you are not a dog!"
The aunt stepped forward to explain, "He's an only child with three pet dogs at home. He expects to be pet when we get home, and has trouble walking like a normal person."
I nodded with understanding, and continued with the order.
Little more than 10 minutes later, the family was sitting at a table in the corner of the shop.
Another family, made up of a thin British man, sitting with his wife and sister, was also entertaining a boy about the same age as dog-child. He threw his soother up to the ceiling and back again, and rubbed his grimy hands on the already dirty door.
Once he had grown tired of throwing his soother, he ran forward to the other end of the shop. His eyes settled on the boy about his same age, sitting on the chair alone. The boy had been yelled at for acting like a dog to such a degree that he was sitting quietly (like a human) with tears running down his cheeks. Seeing his distress, the second little boy approached with caution. With an adorable awkwardness, he placed his chubby arms around the shoulder vicinity of the dog child, and walked his body closer. They hugged for several seconds before the British man called his child back (as if he wanted both children to be dogs). The little boy ran toward his father, and the 5 of them leaving together.
I stood at the counter for a time after he was gone, coming to the simple conclusion that ice cream brings people together. It warms my heart.
This particular family yielded a 3 year old child who came in on his hands and knees. He was jumping around on the floor, barking, while his parents ordered. Another woman, perhaps his aunt, stood off to the side with a look of exasperation.
His mother turned around to yell at him after every few words, with the words "Get up, you are not a dog!"
The aunt stepped forward to explain, "He's an only child with three pet dogs at home. He expects to be pet when we get home, and has trouble walking like a normal person."
I nodded with understanding, and continued with the order.
Little more than 10 minutes later, the family was sitting at a table in the corner of the shop.
Another family, made up of a thin British man, sitting with his wife and sister, was also entertaining a boy about the same age as dog-child. He threw his soother up to the ceiling and back again, and rubbed his grimy hands on the already dirty door.
Once he had grown tired of throwing his soother, he ran forward to the other end of the shop. His eyes settled on the boy about his same age, sitting on the chair alone. The boy had been yelled at for acting like a dog to such a degree that he was sitting quietly (like a human) with tears running down his cheeks. Seeing his distress, the second little boy approached with caution. With an adorable awkwardness, he placed his chubby arms around the shoulder vicinity of the dog child, and walked his body closer. They hugged for several seconds before the British man called his child back (as if he wanted both children to be dogs). The little boy ran toward his father, and the 5 of them leaving together.
I stood at the counter for a time after he was gone, coming to the simple conclusion that ice cream brings people together. It warms my heart.
Blue slushie bliss
In my opinion, slushies are the most reasonably priced items on the menu. Surprisingly, however, it isn't often that they're ordered.
Because of this, I found it curious when a young mother and an excited 6 year old girl each ordered a medium blueberry slushie.The girl pulled at her mother's skirt while panting with thirst. "Slushie, slushie, slushie!" she yelled, jumping up and down from the cluster of customers she was enclosed in.
"The sizes are pretty big," I cautioned, eying the apparently rabid child.
"That's fine," the mother insisted, "we have a long drive ahead of us."
I nodded and went to make the delightfully blue slushies. I positioned them both on the counter, and set up the debit machine for the mother to pay. Her daughter took this opportunity to laugh like an extremist and run up and down the freezers with her hair flying behind her.
I watched the mother leave with great pity, as she handed the blue slushie to her daughter.
As if that kid needed more sugar.
"Have a great drive!" I called after them
(Yeah, right)
Because of this, I found it curious when a young mother and an excited 6 year old girl each ordered a medium blueberry slushie.The girl pulled at her mother's skirt while panting with thirst. "Slushie, slushie, slushie!" she yelled, jumping up and down from the cluster of customers she was enclosed in.
"The sizes are pretty big," I cautioned, eying the apparently rabid child.
"That's fine," the mother insisted, "we have a long drive ahead of us."
I nodded and went to make the delightfully blue slushies. I positioned them both on the counter, and set up the debit machine for the mother to pay. Her daughter took this opportunity to laugh like an extremist and run up and down the freezers with her hair flying behind her.
I watched the mother leave with great pity, as she handed the blue slushie to her daughter.
As if that kid needed more sugar.
"Have a great drive!" I called after them
(Yeah, right)
Garbage Tales: Sequel #2
As soon as I got the job at the ice cream parlour, my manager let me know that I needed closed toes, non-slip shoes to work. That same week, I went to the local shoe store and bought a swanky (except not really) pair of black shoes that were simple and comfortable.
I wore them for the first season.
When the second season came, things changed. It seemed like the weather got hotter and more humid, while my feet became more rebellious. And thus, Adidas athletic flip flops became my footwear of choice for this summer.
Usually, this is fine. I keep a firm grip on the floor and my toes get to breathe during my shift. I simply did not think through the consequences when my manager asked me to empty the garbage that was residing outside.
I flipped open the lid and figured it wouldn't be that bad. It was only half full, and there was no overpowering smell of vomit. So far so good. Still disgusted, however, I heaved it out of its shell and lined the bin with another bag.
Like usual, I slung the whole thing over my shoulder. It was then that I began my journey towards the master garbage out behind the shop.
I dragged my feet in the ridiculously warm weather, but made it to the back in due time. I threw the bag off from my back, and wound up to throw it the meter up into the bin. I brought the bag from behind and swung my arm up, building momentum. It landed in the bin with a thud, and formed around the other bags of garbage.
All this was well and good, until I paid due attention to the sudden wetness I felt on my foot. I looked down to see multicoloured sludge swimming around the top of my foot and finding its way in between my toes.
Without a second of hesitation, I removed my shoe and hopped on one foot to the back door of the shop. I flung my shoe in the sink (which was empty) and continued on into the main part of the shop. Jenn stood beside the cash register, staring at me with the face of scorn that I have become used to.
"I need to wash my foot," I explained, indicating the garbage juice still trickling on my skin.
"Well you're not going to do it in front of the customer," she reasoned, and handed me a paper towel. "Do it in the back."
I nodded, greatful for her discernment. Before I disappeared into the back room, she handed me another bottle: hand sanitizer.
I smeared it all over my toes and soaked my shoe in hot water.
Sometimes us ice cream girls are cleaning ice cream from our elbows, and other times we're cleaning garbage juice from our toes. It really just depends on the day.
I wore them for the first season.
When the second season came, things changed. It seemed like the weather got hotter and more humid, while my feet became more rebellious. And thus, Adidas athletic flip flops became my footwear of choice for this summer.
Usually, this is fine. I keep a firm grip on the floor and my toes get to breathe during my shift. I simply did not think through the consequences when my manager asked me to empty the garbage that was residing outside.
I flipped open the lid and figured it wouldn't be that bad. It was only half full, and there was no overpowering smell of vomit. So far so good. Still disgusted, however, I heaved it out of its shell and lined the bin with another bag.
Like usual, I slung the whole thing over my shoulder. It was then that I began my journey towards the master garbage out behind the shop.
I dragged my feet in the ridiculously warm weather, but made it to the back in due time. I threw the bag off from my back, and wound up to throw it the meter up into the bin. I brought the bag from behind and swung my arm up, building momentum. It landed in the bin with a thud, and formed around the other bags of garbage.
All this was well and good, until I paid due attention to the sudden wetness I felt on my foot. I looked down to see multicoloured sludge swimming around the top of my foot and finding its way in between my toes.
Without a second of hesitation, I removed my shoe and hopped on one foot to the back door of the shop. I flung my shoe in the sink (which was empty) and continued on into the main part of the shop. Jenn stood beside the cash register, staring at me with the face of scorn that I have become used to.
"I need to wash my foot," I explained, indicating the garbage juice still trickling on my skin.
"Well you're not going to do it in front of the customer," she reasoned, and handed me a paper towel. "Do it in the back."
I nodded, greatful for her discernment. Before I disappeared into the back room, she handed me another bottle: hand sanitizer.
I smeared it all over my toes and soaked my shoe in hot water.
Sometimes us ice cream girls are cleaning ice cream from our elbows, and other times we're cleaning garbage juice from our toes. It really just depends on the day.
Manly men with larges
"I'll have a large."
This is a sentence I hear on very rare occasions. Often, (as in this instance) it is said to me by men who've never experienced how extreme our sizes can be. This particular customer was leaning on the freezer like he owned the place. He looked like he was in his mid 30's, with a greasy hairdo and ripped jeans.
"Have you ever been here before, sir?" I asked, "Because, just to let you know, our larges are pretty huge."
"No, but, it'll be fine, I can handle it. Gimme Moose Tracks and High Roller," he ordered, "in a bowl."
I rolled my eyes, already predicting how this was going to go. Still, I harnessed my scoop and started going.
"That looks good right there," he told me after a few scoops in the right direction.
"Are you sure?" I asked him.
"Yea, yea, close enough," he said.
I nodded obediently and rang him up for the small.
Manly men aren't so manly.
This is a sentence I hear on very rare occasions. Often, (as in this instance) it is said to me by men who've never experienced how extreme our sizes can be. This particular customer was leaning on the freezer like he owned the place. He looked like he was in his mid 30's, with a greasy hairdo and ripped jeans.
"Have you ever been here before, sir?" I asked, "Because, just to let you know, our larges are pretty huge."
"No, but, it'll be fine, I can handle it. Gimme Moose Tracks and High Roller," he ordered, "in a bowl."
I rolled my eyes, already predicting how this was going to go. Still, I harnessed my scoop and started going.
"That looks good right there," he told me after a few scoops in the right direction.
"Are you sure?" I asked him.
"Yea, yea, close enough," he said.
I nodded obediently and rang him up for the small.
Manly men aren't so manly.
Withholdance of ice cream
One of the problems with buying ice cream is paying for it at the end. I see it most often with elderly couples; the man is recruited to be the one who does the task of coming into the store to get the cones while the wife waits in the car. Awkwardness ensues when the customer doesn't have enough hands to hold both cones as well as handle the debit machine/cash.
You'd think that this seems like a simple problem to solve. Many customers have taken the initiative and made a move to pay for the cones before they're scooped, but that's when we run into other problems. Because of the sheer monstrosity of the cones I make, I've often only scooped a size below what the customer paid for when they shout for me to stop. Now, as an ice cream girl, I don't want to cheat people out of their money; but then, they're paying for more ice cream than they're getting!
I encountered this paradoxical problem last week when a confused old man stumbled into the store. He ordered 2 kids' cones: one Maple Walnut, and the other Butter Pecan (typical to his demographic). When I handed them to him and went to pay, he immediately began fumbling his things this way and that, trying to get his cash at the same time as accepting the cones.
"I'll just hold one for you," I offered.
He gratefully accepted the second cone, and continued to search through his wallet. Finally, he scooped a collection of change onto the counter.
I counted it out, and pushed several unnecessary coins back towards him. I then calculated his change and added it the pile. He scooped both of them back into his wallet.
"Have a great day!" I said to him.
He nodded, but continued to stand at the register. He looked anxious.
"I already gave you your change," I clarified politely, wondering if he had forgotten.
He shook his head, still waiting for me to catch on.
"The cone," he said finally.
In an awkward realization, I turned to look at my hand and noticed that I was in fact still holding his Butter Pecan cone.
Most of my shifts, I devour as much ice cream as I please, but the odd time comes when I need to also withhold it from customers.
I think I have a problem.
You'd think that this seems like a simple problem to solve. Many customers have taken the initiative and made a move to pay for the cones before they're scooped, but that's when we run into other problems. Because of the sheer monstrosity of the cones I make, I've often only scooped a size below what the customer paid for when they shout for me to stop. Now, as an ice cream girl, I don't want to cheat people out of their money; but then, they're paying for more ice cream than they're getting!
I encountered this paradoxical problem last week when a confused old man stumbled into the store. He ordered 2 kids' cones: one Maple Walnut, and the other Butter Pecan (typical to his demographic). When I handed them to him and went to pay, he immediately began fumbling his things this way and that, trying to get his cash at the same time as accepting the cones.
"I'll just hold one for you," I offered.
He gratefully accepted the second cone, and continued to search through his wallet. Finally, he scooped a collection of change onto the counter.
I counted it out, and pushed several unnecessary coins back towards him. I then calculated his change and added it the pile. He scooped both of them back into his wallet.
"Have a great day!" I said to him.
He nodded, but continued to stand at the register. He looked anxious.
"I already gave you your change," I clarified politely, wondering if he had forgotten.
He shook his head, still waiting for me to catch on.
"The cone," he said finally.
In an awkward realization, I turned to look at my hand and noticed that I was in fact still holding his Butter Pecan cone.
Most of my shifts, I devour as much ice cream as I please, but the odd time comes when I need to also withhold it from customers.
I think I have a problem.
Tuesday 31 July 2012
A more direct approach
As an ice cream girl, I make every effort to be nice with customers. After all, who wants the sweet and succulent experience of eating ice cream to be blemished by a crabby employee? It is because of this that I find it necessary to wear out my facial muscles by smiling and occasionally working my voice up to such a high, friendly pitch that it is almost unnatural.
But sometimes, my friends, things get serious.
If you have ever had the experience of working with technology or machinery, you'll know how frustrating it can be. It just so happens that the soft serve machine enjoys to exert a violent wind of hot air as it operates. This wouldn't be such a problem if we didn't need to keep a stack of napkins on the freezer in front of it.
Originally, the solution to this problem was simple. To avoid having the napkins be blown away by the soft serve's wind, we set a paper cup (one that we usually use to serve ice cream in) on top. This was fine, until we found that customers are ruthless creatures. To my disgust, they found it acceptable behaviour to remove the cup from the stack of napkins and take it for themselves! Instead of paying the 25 cents for an extra cup to divide one serving of ice cream into two, they took our napkin holder!
At first, I took it upon myself to handle the problem. When it was slow, I used a pen to write on the outside of the cup, "Please replace after taking napkins. Thank you!" That should do it, I thought to myself.
But lo and behold, it did not! The cups were still disappearing like nobody's business, causing napkins to be flying around the shop at no end.
Finally, Jenn, the more ruthless of us two, took control of the situation. She decided to write her message on the inside of the cup, so that, as customers took it from the freezer and envisioned putting their ice cream inside, they'd see the message. Very simply put, she wrote "Put this cup back." The period at the end of the statement worked quite nicely, and she added a "Thx." as an after thought.
Sometimes, I am sorry to say, an ice cream girl can not always be nice.
Falling ice cream
Working at an ice cream shop, it's a fact of life: ice cream falls out of cones. Whether it be an ignorant child looking for a more convenient angle to lick at it and turning it completely on its side, or a distracted adult trying to use the debit machine and hold their cone at the same time, it happens quite often that a scoop (or several) tumbles from the safety of a cone onto the floors that I mop daily. It is something that I have come to accept.
Another situation, however, took me completely by surprise.
I scooped a small of Peanut Butter Chocolate Mudpuddle and set it on the top of the freezer as usual. The customer smiled in anticipation and grabbed a spoon from the arrangement on the counter. She was in her 20's, with a mouth coated in lipstick and a face that showed excitement. She placed her spoon in her left hand and reached forward with the right to grab the bowl of Peanut Butter Chocolate Mudpuddle.
Unfortunately for her, her hand missed the clasping motion that is ordinary, and pummeled straight towards the dish. Essentially, she punched it right off the counter and the entire thing fell with a plop into the still open freezer, resting in the tub of Orange Pineapple below.
So now, my dear friends, I am left with the responsibility to accept the fact that ice cream can also fall from bowls. There are no limits to the frightening possibilities of ice cream irresponsibility.
Watch yourselves.
Another situation, however, took me completely by surprise.
I scooped a small of Peanut Butter Chocolate Mudpuddle and set it on the top of the freezer as usual. The customer smiled in anticipation and grabbed a spoon from the arrangement on the counter. She was in her 20's, with a mouth coated in lipstick and a face that showed excitement. She placed her spoon in her left hand and reached forward with the right to grab the bowl of Peanut Butter Chocolate Mudpuddle.
Unfortunately for her, her hand missed the clasping motion that is ordinary, and pummeled straight towards the dish. Essentially, she punched it right off the counter and the entire thing fell with a plop into the still open freezer, resting in the tub of Orange Pineapple below.
So now, my dear friends, I am left with the responsibility to accept the fact that ice cream can also fall from bowls. There are no limits to the frightening possibilities of ice cream irresponsibility.
Watch yourselves.
Unfortunate weather collides with creative fantasy and environmentalconscientiousness
It seems that every job has an aspect that is simply no fun at all. For an ice cream girl working at a shop with 65 flavours, this aspect happens to be washing out the tubs. "Tubs" is the title of the job. Simply put, you take the empty 11.4 litre ice cream tubs to the back and scrub out the lasts of the melted ice cream to prepare them for recycling. Not my favourite job.
It just so happens that unfortunate weather collided with creative fantasy and environmental conscientiousness on a slow Saturday night while my manager was on holiday. I had volunteered to brave the tubs for the night, sticking it out for Jenn, who had done them the day before.
It was 9:00 pm when it started to rain. Before long, customers were a rarity as the water struck down on the parlour and made it hard to see into the parking lot. The atmosphere was warm, and I stood from the back room looking on to the outside where the rain was pouring down. As I was forming the description, "torrential" in my mind, I realized what I was about to do.
"I'm going outside!" I called to Jenn (in the event that I was struck down by lightning, I wanted someone to know where I was). I hoisted the 8 tubs of the night under my arm and ran into the rain in reckless abandon. As it was seeping into my ponytail, I saw my opportunity for success.
There was a drain running from the gutters on the roof, pouring a steady stream of rain onto the pavement below. Without hesitation, I shoved the buckets under (to my surprise, it comfortably fit 3 at a time) and scattered the rest in other places that the rain was sure to hit them. Laughing like a maniac, I ran back into the store and leaned over to watch as the rain filled the tubs.
It only took a few minutes for the first few to be full. I ran back out and heaved them one at a time back into the shop. Rain dripped from their sides and covered my shirt, but I continued pulling the rubs out from under the drain, one at a time, and running them back into the shop.
I stuck my hands into the first tub sitting in the sink and reveled at the wonderfully warm temperature. I took a cloth and waded into my elbows. Before long, the tubs were clean and I returned the water to the pavement, running again to shove the tubs (now upside down) to the pile of recycling.
Sometimes, an ice cream girl must be creative in order to enjoy her job; but all the time, it is possible.
It just so happens that unfortunate weather collided with creative fantasy and environmental conscientiousness on a slow Saturday night while my manager was on holiday. I had volunteered to brave the tubs for the night, sticking it out for Jenn, who had done them the day before.
It was 9:00 pm when it started to rain. Before long, customers were a rarity as the water struck down on the parlour and made it hard to see into the parking lot. The atmosphere was warm, and I stood from the back room looking on to the outside where the rain was pouring down. As I was forming the description, "torrential" in my mind, I realized what I was about to do.
"I'm going outside!" I called to Jenn (in the event that I was struck down by lightning, I wanted someone to know where I was). I hoisted the 8 tubs of the night under my arm and ran into the rain in reckless abandon. As it was seeping into my ponytail, I saw my opportunity for success.
There was a drain running from the gutters on the roof, pouring a steady stream of rain onto the pavement below. Without hesitation, I shoved the buckets under (to my surprise, it comfortably fit 3 at a time) and scattered the rest in other places that the rain was sure to hit them. Laughing like a maniac, I ran back into the store and leaned over to watch as the rain filled the tubs.
It only took a few minutes for the first few to be full. I ran back out and heaved them one at a time back into the shop. Rain dripped from their sides and covered my shirt, but I continued pulling the rubs out from under the drain, one at a time, and running them back into the shop.
I stuck my hands into the first tub sitting in the sink and reveled at the wonderfully warm temperature. I took a cloth and waded into my elbows. Before long, the tubs were clean and I returned the water to the pavement, running again to shove the tubs (now upside down) to the pile of recycling.
Sometimes, an ice cream girl must be creative in order to enjoy her job; but all the time, it is possible.
Spider-singing farmers on a hunt for ice cream
Jenn and I were just beginning to clean up for the night when a rowdy group of farmers (as I later learned) muscled their way into the shop. They hung back, waiting for the last of our earlier customers to vanish, then timidly approached the counter. I stood beside Jenn, curious to see what this group of 6 teenagers of mixed genders and ages were up to on a Friday night.
Amid fits of giggles, the tallest of the group explained to Jenn what they were up to. "We're doing a scavenger hunt with the rest of the farmers and one of the things we need to do is get a large ice cream and sing a song for you."
Immediately, I jumped in excitement. It's always a special moment when I realize that something is about to get interesting. "Perfect!" I jumped in, "What flavour can I scoop you guys?"
"I don't know," the leader answered, "What's good?"
"Well," I responded, "if you're going to get a large to share, I'd recommend the soft serve twist. It's cheap, delicious, and a pretty agreeable flavour."
He nodded in excitement, and Jenn went over to make them the ice cream.
"So you have to sing for us, eh?" I asked.
"Yes," the leader responded nervously.
"So what are you going to sing?"
"I don't know..." he said. It was becoming clear that making decisions wasn't what he had signed up for.
A girl in the back of the group piped up, "Let's do the Itsy Bitsy Spider!"
Immediately, the rest of them agreed, but they were hesitant to start. When I saw that they were nervous, I smiled at them and turned my back to get a cloth to wipe the counter. From behind, I heard to my delight, the beautiful chorus of The Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Before they were about to leave, the leader handed me a clipboard and pointed where he needed me to sign. "Just to prove that we sang to you," he clarified.
With pride, I grabbed the pen and scrawled my name.
It isn't every day that I get to sign for a group of spider-singing farmers on a hunt for ice cream; but on days that it is, darn right that I enjoy it.
Amid fits of giggles, the tallest of the group explained to Jenn what they were up to. "We're doing a scavenger hunt with the rest of the farmers and one of the things we need to do is get a large ice cream and sing a song for you."
Immediately, I jumped in excitement. It's always a special moment when I realize that something is about to get interesting. "Perfect!" I jumped in, "What flavour can I scoop you guys?"
"I don't know," the leader answered, "What's good?"
"Well," I responded, "if you're going to get a large to share, I'd recommend the soft serve twist. It's cheap, delicious, and a pretty agreeable flavour."
He nodded in excitement, and Jenn went over to make them the ice cream.
"So you have to sing for us, eh?" I asked.
"Yes," the leader responded nervously.
"So what are you going to sing?"
"I don't know..." he said. It was becoming clear that making decisions wasn't what he had signed up for.
A girl in the back of the group piped up, "Let's do the Itsy Bitsy Spider!"
Immediately, the rest of them agreed, but they were hesitant to start. When I saw that they were nervous, I smiled at them and turned my back to get a cloth to wipe the counter. From behind, I heard to my delight, the beautiful chorus of The Itsy Bitsy Spider.
Before they were about to leave, the leader handed me a clipboard and pointed where he needed me to sign. "Just to prove that we sang to you," he clarified.
With pride, I grabbed the pen and scrawled my name.
It isn't every day that I get to sign for a group of spider-singing farmers on a hunt for ice cream; but on days that it is, darn right that I enjoy it.
Simplicity
I didn't question it when an ordinary customer took his time perusing the flavours. Naturally, it seems to be a hobby of every customer to walk up and down the long line of freezers, battling their taste buds with their memories of flavours tastes before, choosing what to get.
"I'll have a double scoop on a regular cone. The first scoop will definitely be Crouching Tiger, give me a second to decide on the other one," he ordered, finally.
I nodded in obedience, and added a round and bodacious scoop of Crouching Tiger to the cone. I waited patiently for his instructions concerning the second scoop.
Finally, he returned to where I was leaning, and told me, "You know what, just go on and do the second scoop of Crouching Tiger."
"Really?" I asked him, since this had never happened before, "are you sure? I can give you more time to decide, it's no trouble."
"No, really," he replied, and settled in to explain to me, "what if I choose a second flavour, but I get to liking the first flavour and I don't like the second one as much? I know I like Crouching Tiger, but I can't be sure about anything else. I don't want to get in the Tiger-groove and then have to switch over to something not as satisfying. This is all just getting so complicated, and ice cream should be simple, shouldn't it? So just give me all Crouching Tiger and I know I'll like it all."
"You're right," I agreed, coming to a realization that I had never before pondered, "ice cream should be simple."
And just as he said, I handed him the cone of Crouching Tiger. A beautiful orange riddled with strips of black licorice. Simple.
"I'll have a double scoop on a regular cone. The first scoop will definitely be Crouching Tiger, give me a second to decide on the other one," he ordered, finally.
I nodded in obedience, and added a round and bodacious scoop of Crouching Tiger to the cone. I waited patiently for his instructions concerning the second scoop.
Finally, he returned to where I was leaning, and told me, "You know what, just go on and do the second scoop of Crouching Tiger."
"Really?" I asked him, since this had never happened before, "are you sure? I can give you more time to decide, it's no trouble."
"No, really," he replied, and settled in to explain to me, "what if I choose a second flavour, but I get to liking the first flavour and I don't like the second one as much? I know I like Crouching Tiger, but I can't be sure about anything else. I don't want to get in the Tiger-groove and then have to switch over to something not as satisfying. This is all just getting so complicated, and ice cream should be simple, shouldn't it? So just give me all Crouching Tiger and I know I'll like it all."
"You're right," I agreed, coming to a realization that I had never before pondered, "ice cream should be simple."
And just as he said, I handed him the cone of Crouching Tiger. A beautiful orange riddled with strips of black licorice. Simple.
Thursday 26 July 2012
Happy customers
This young gentleman took the liberty of ordering a medium; and I took the liberty of scooping it for him. 
Wallflowers
I was waiting beside the cash register to ring in my customer's order when I caught wind of Jenn's conversation with a customer.
"Your shirts are the exact same colour as the wall. You two blend into it perfectly."
"Thank you," I told him; I've always wanted to be a wallflower.
Not actually, but it's nice to try on different personas from time to time.
"Your shirts are the exact same colour as the wall. You two blend into it perfectly."
"Thank you," I told him; I've always wanted to be a wallflower.
Not actually, but it's nice to try on different personas from time to time.
Tuesday 24 July 2012
The customer shall never know
As an ice cream girl, I sometimes find due cause to return to my past, when a younger, less experienced woman was the one making mountains of soft serve and scooping out cones by the tub. Can you see where I'm going with this? This is one of those times.
It was my second shift at my new job scooping ice cream. I'd mastered the basics of the sizes and scooping cones from the hard ice cream. I was feeling cool, confident, and collected when a customer ordered a sundae.
I'd never one for a customer before. Still, I mustered the wisdom to accumulate the whipped cream, nuts and soft serve. I made the swirl of ice cream, then went to the fridge to find the cherries. I picked off the red container where I was shown that it was when I was trained and brought it back to the counter. I made a perfect dollop of whipped cream, and opened the container to place a cherry on top.
But lo and behold, the container was not full of cherries. In fact, it was full of red sauce with mushed up remains distributed throughout.
My heart caught in my throat. What happened to these cherries? Silently, I found a spoon and picked through the sauce with it, looking for a bright, plump cherry to add to the sundae that was otherwise finished.
When I saw that it was fruitless, I called Jenn over, interrupting her discussion with a customer. "What happened to the cherries?" I whispered.
She leaned in to peer into the box, then went back to the fridge. She removed a second red container and opened it to reveal a plethora of cherries. "You had the strawberry sauce," she carefully informed me.
The customer shall never know.
It was my second shift at my new job scooping ice cream. I'd mastered the basics of the sizes and scooping cones from the hard ice cream. I was feeling cool, confident, and collected when a customer ordered a sundae.
I'd never one for a customer before. Still, I mustered the wisdom to accumulate the whipped cream, nuts and soft serve. I made the swirl of ice cream, then went to the fridge to find the cherries. I picked off the red container where I was shown that it was when I was trained and brought it back to the counter. I made a perfect dollop of whipped cream, and opened the container to place a cherry on top.
But lo and behold, the container was not full of cherries. In fact, it was full of red sauce with mushed up remains distributed throughout.
My heart caught in my throat. What happened to these cherries? Silently, I found a spoon and picked through the sauce with it, looking for a bright, plump cherry to add to the sundae that was otherwise finished.
When I saw that it was fruitless, I called Jenn over, interrupting her discussion with a customer. "What happened to the cherries?" I whispered.
She leaned in to peer into the box, then went back to the fridge. She removed a second red container and opened it to reveal a plethora of cherries. "You had the strawberry sauce," she carefully informed me.
The customer shall never know.
Sunday 22 July 2012
Guess the sum
There's really nothing like working a ten hour shift and finishing with a full tip jar.
Anyone want to guess our sum for the night?
Anyone want to guess our sum for the night?
Just in case I become an architect
I'm going to go out on a limb here and trust you guys with a secret. Sometimes, when I'm working, I make mistakes.
For example, last week, I was serving a finely-lined woman with her hair pulled back so tight that it was pulling on her scalp. Like her friend who had ordered before her, she asked for a kids' sized cone.
"Sure," I complied, "what flavours?"
"I'll have Mocha Almond Fudge on the bottom and Cookies and Cream on the Top."
I nodded in acknowledgement and went to grab a cone. To my inconvenience, however, there were no napkins on the counter to wrap the cone with. I had to retreat to the back of the store and plunder through a labyrinth of boxes, finally pulling free a refill of napkins.
Finally, I grabbed one, and went to continue with the cone.
The woman stood directly in front of the freezer, watching me with bird-like eyes as I scooped. Finally, I handed it to her and started to head over to the cash register.
"I wanted the Mocha Almond Fudge on the top," she stated. Her lips were stretched tight across her face and her eyebrows raised in a way that made me feel that she was scolding me.
"I'm sorry!" I began," would you like me to fix that for you?" I stretched my hand on the counter to offer my assistance.
"Yes." she said, her mouth hardly moving.
I nodded slowly and took the cone again from her spindly grasp. Finally, once the cone had been corrected and paid for, I watched her leave in chagrin.
I never thought that working at an ice cream shop would require me to distinguish top from bottom with a 100% success rate, but I suppose I must prepare in the event that I ever become an architect.
For example, last week, I was serving a finely-lined woman with her hair pulled back so tight that it was pulling on her scalp. Like her friend who had ordered before her, she asked for a kids' sized cone.
"Sure," I complied, "what flavours?"
"I'll have Mocha Almond Fudge on the bottom and Cookies and Cream on the Top."
I nodded in acknowledgement and went to grab a cone. To my inconvenience, however, there were no napkins on the counter to wrap the cone with. I had to retreat to the back of the store and plunder through a labyrinth of boxes, finally pulling free a refill of napkins.
Finally, I grabbed one, and went to continue with the cone.
The woman stood directly in front of the freezer, watching me with bird-like eyes as I scooped. Finally, I handed it to her and started to head over to the cash register.
"I wanted the Mocha Almond Fudge on the top," she stated. Her lips were stretched tight across her face and her eyebrows raised in a way that made me feel that she was scolding me.
"I'm sorry!" I began," would you like me to fix that for you?" I stretched my hand on the counter to offer my assistance.
"Yes." she said, her mouth hardly moving.
I nodded slowly and took the cone again from her spindly grasp. Finally, once the cone had been corrected and paid for, I watched her leave in chagrin.
I never thought that working at an ice cream shop would require me to distinguish top from bottom with a 100% success rate, but I suppose I must prepare in the event that I ever become an architect.
Customers don't always yell at me...
I consider sundaes my favourite thing to make. Ingredients-wise, it's really an all-hands-on-deck deal. After perfecting a soft serve mountain of vanilla, I slap the dish on the counter and run to get the whipped cream, nuts, sauce of the customer's choice and maraschino cherries. I drizzle the whole thing in sauce before making a ribbon of whipped cream around the edge of the dish and sprinkling a spoonful of nuts on top. Finally, I throw the cherry on top, stick a spoon in and call it a sundae.
This time, the customer asked for a small strawberry sundae. I nodded eagerly and went to perform the ritual as described above. When I handed it to him, with strawberry sauce just burgeoning over the edge and the whipped cream still holding fast to the peak of the creation, his jaw fell to the metal counter.
"Good Lord!" he yelled, "You're telling me that's a small?!"
Before I could respond, he doubled over in gales of laughter.
Customer don't always yell at me, but when they do, it's because of my sizes.
This time, the customer asked for a small strawberry sundae. I nodded eagerly and went to perform the ritual as described above. When I handed it to him, with strawberry sauce just burgeoning over the edge and the whipped cream still holding fast to the peak of the creation, his jaw fell to the metal counter.
"Good Lord!" he yelled, "You're telling me that's a small?!"
Before I could respond, he doubled over in gales of laughter.
Customer don't always yell at me, but when they do, it's because of my sizes.
I have a beard
I was just passing by the till where Jenn was serving a scrawny, bearded man wearing a checkered flannel shirt (in 34 degree July weather) when he called me over and asked for some more napkins.
"Sure!" I called, and skipped over to the back where I found a few refills. Ripping open the package, I handed several to him.
"Thanks," he said on his way to the door, "I always need to get a few; half of this is about to end up in my beard."
There are some things that I learn working at an ice cream shop that I never would have needed to know. And now, my friends, you know too.
You're welcome.
;)
"Sure!" I called, and skipped over to the back where I found a few refills. Ripping open the package, I handed several to him.
"Thanks," he said on his way to the door, "I always need to get a few; half of this is about to end up in my beard."
There are some things that I learn working at an ice cream shop that I never would have needed to know. And now, my friends, you know too.
You're welcome.
;)
Moon Mist: A whole new galaxy
Moonmist is one of those flavours that I tasted once and wrote off. Bubblegum, banana and grape; nothing special. Usually, I just scoop it for kids when they see the pretty colours and want an ice cream cone that looks like it's the product of an artificial flavouring factory gone wrong (or right, I'm not quite sure which). That is, when moon mist was old and tired.
Last week however, when I arrived for my 4:00 shift, I noticed our stock of Moon Mist running low. I spotted a tub in the back freezer, and proceeded to heave it into the front. That was when I caught a glimpse of the colours. "Wow!" I exclaimed to my manager, "Moon Mist looks so much better from the outside of the tub."
He wandered over while I rested it against the freezer for him to see. "You're right!" he agreed, "that's weird."
It was only when I opened it that I realized that the flavour did not simply look better through the plastic ice cream tub; the colour scheme had been changed.
What used to be pink, purple and yellow had now been modified to BLUE, purple and yellow.
And if I do say so myself, it looks mighty fine; and it's never sold (or tasted) better either.
Really reminds me how a simple outward change can make an endeavor seem so much more worthwhile.
Ice Cream Ratings
|
|
My preference
|
Jenn’s preference
|
Popularity
|
Awesomeness (points for
creativity, awesome names and interesting colours)
|
Overall Average
|
|
1. Black Cherry Yogurt
|
2
|
4
|
2
|
2
|
2.5
|
|
10. Strawberry Daquiri
|
4
|
6
|
3
|
6
|
4.75
|
|
11. Strawberry Mango Yogurt
|
3
|
3
|
3
|
7
|
4
|
|
12. Wacky Watermelon Yogurt
|
4
|
4
|
4
|
8
|
5
|
|
13. White Chocolate Raspberry
|
7
|
7
|
6
|
4
|
6
|
|
14. Toasted S’mores
|
4
|
9
|
6
|
9
|
7
|
|
15. Vanilla
|
8
|
5
|
8
|
2
|
5.75
|
|
16. Strawberries N’ Cream
|
7
|
6
|
7
|
2
|
5.5
|
|
17. Sugar Shack Maple
|
6
|
7
|
4
|
5
|
5.5
|
|
18. Scotch Toffee
|
7
|
7
|
5
|
4
|
5.75
|
|
19. Spiderman
|
10
|
7
|
10
|
10
|
9.25
|
|
2. Grape Creamsycle
|
2
|
3
|
4
|
5
|
3.5
|
|
20. Root Beer Float
|
2
|
2
|
4
|
8
|
4
|
|
21. Rum and Raisin
|
7
|
0
|
3
|
2
|
3
|
|
22. Rocky 17
|
9
|
8
|
6
|
3
|
6.5
|
|
23. Rocky Road
|
8
|
6
|
7
|
4
|
6.25
|
|
24. Pistachio Almond
|
7
|
4
|
5
|
2
|
4.5
|
|
25. Prailines and Cream
|
7
|
8
|
8
|
1
|
6
|
|
26. Peanut Butter Mudpuddle
|
10
|
10
|
10
|
9
|
9.75
|
|
27. Orange Pineapple
|
5
|
4
|
5
|
3
|
4.25
|
|
28. Moon Mist
|
7
|
8
|
5
|
10
|
7.5
|
|
29. Denali Moosetracks
|
9
|
10
|
10
|
8
|
9.25
|
|
3. Lemon Sorbet
|
1
|
2
|
2
|
5
|
2.5
|
|
30. Mocha Almond Fudge
|
7
|
6
|
5
|
5
|
5.75
|
|
31. Long Point Peach Melba
|
4
|
4
|
6
|
4
|
4.5
|
|
32. Mint Cookies and Cream
|
5
|
9
|
7
|
7
|
7
|
|
33. Cookies and Cream
|
8
|
8
|
8
|
4
|
7
|
|
34. Key Lime Pie
|
5
|
10
|
6
|
8
|
7.25
|
|
35. Lemon Meringue
|
6
|
7
|
5
|
7
|
6.25
|
|
36. Heavenly Hash
|
8
|
6
|
8
|
5
|
6.75
|
|
37. High Roller
|
8
|
8
|
8
|
9
|
8.25
|
|
38. Gold Medal Ribbon
|
6
|
7
|
6
|
5
|
6
|
|
39. Happy Birthday
|
10
|
10
|
10
|
10
|
10
|
|
4. Lime Creamsycle
|
4
|
6
|
5
|
5
|
5
|
|
40. Crème Brulee
|
6
|
9
|
7
|
10
|
8
|
|
41. Crouching Tiger
|
4
|
4
|
6
|
5
|
4.75
|
|
42. Chocolate Monkey
|
6
|
5
|
6
|
7
|
6
|
|
43. Coconut N’ Cream
|
8
|
4
|
4
|
7
|
5.75
|
|
44. Chocolate Fudge Brownie Indulgence
|
8
|
8
|
8
|
3
|
6.75
|
|
45. Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough
|
8
|
2
|
9
|
3
|
5.5
|
|
46. Chocolate
|
9
|
2
|
9
|
1
|
5.25
|
|
47. Chiquita Banana
|
3
|
1
|
4
|
5
|
3.25
|
|
48. Strawberry Cheesecake
|
7
|
9
|
8
|
7
|
7.75
|
|
49. Cherry Cheesecake
|
6
|
8
|
8
|
7
|
7.25
|
|
5. No Sugar Added Maple Walnut
|
6
|
5
|
2
|
1
|
3.5
|
|
50. Caramel Cheesecake
|
7
|
8
|
7
|
8
|
7.5
|
|
51. Denali Caramel Caribou
|
6
|
4
|
4
|
6
|
5
|
|
52. Maple Walnut
|
10
|
7
|
9
|
3
|
7.25
|
|
53. Butter Pecan
|
10
|
7
|
8
|
1
|
6.5
|
|
54. Mint Chocolate Chunk
|
5
|
5
|
8
|
3
|
5.25
|
|
55. Carnival Cotton Candy
|
10
|
5
|
7
|
8
|
7.5
|
|
56. Butterscotch Ripple
|
7
|
5
|
8
|
2
|
5.5
|
|
57. Bubble Bubble
|
6
|
7
|
9
|
6
|
7
|
|
58. Black Raspberry Bugaboo
|
7
|
8
|
7
|
10
|
8
|
|
59. Black Forest Cake
|
8
|
8
|
4
|
7
|
6.75
|
|
6. No Sugar Added Butterscotch
Ripple
|
4
|
3
|
2
|
1
|
2.5
|
|
60. Black Cherry
|
10
|
7
|
10
|
5
|
8
|
|
61. Denali Bear Claw
|
8
|
6
|
5
|
6
|
6.25
|
|
62. Ah! Chocolate
|
7
|
7
|
1
|
3
|
4.5
|
|
63. St Jacob’s Apple Pie
|
4
|
6
|
5
|
7
|
5.5
|
|
64. Spumoni
|
2
|
1
|
1
|
7
|
2.75
|
|
65. Banana Boat
|
1
|
2
|
1
|
3
|
1.75
|
|
7. Orange Creamsycle
|
6
|
6
|
6
|
5
|
5.75
|
|
8. Pina Coloda Sherbert
|
5
|
4
|
3
|
9
|
5.25
|
|
9. Rainbow Sherbert
|
6
|
7
|
5
|
9
|
6.75
|
|
Average Overall:
|
6.26
|
5.86
|
5.88
|
5.43
|
5.86
|
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