I’ve
hated the cone dip since my first day of training when I dropped 3 consecutive
cones into the fudgey substance and had to fish them out with a spoon. Truth be
told, no one really is very food at the cone dip at all. The ice cream sliding
off the fragile cone seems only inevitable when you’re inserting it upside into
a hot vat of thick chocolate (whose idea was this in the beginning, anyway?). Imagine
my excitement when I returned to the shop for second season of work to find
that our cone dip was again in its state of dysfuntion, ready to go.
As luck would have it, during the busiest time of the night,
7 sorority ladies arrived in their mini-vans and marched up to the counter
requesting, (yes, you know it) 7 cone dips. I bit my lip and stopped my eyes
from rolling as I reached for an empty cone and began constructing an ice cream
that I knew would soon meet its death. While clenching every possible part of
my body, I turned it completely upside down and stuck it in the dip. Now, with
even more tension, I pulled it out and set it up. It was still standing! I
raised my eyebrows in surprising. Was it possible that our cone dip had been
improved over the year? Am I just that much more coordinated? Either way, I
handed the successful cone to the first lady at the front and went to do the
second. Again, my attempt was a success.
Where the folly lay was in the 3rd cone. As I
went to pull it out, the ice cream slipped p
eacefully from its cradle to join
the vat of chocolate. Typical. I grabbed the nearest ladle and prodded at the
quickly melting substance before it was too late. i slapped it down in a bowl
amidst the roaring laughter happening behind me. Ah, the cone dip.
It’s a sad day when sorority ladies laugh at you in an ice
cream shop. A sad day, I tell you.
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