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4 August 2008 / April

Sharing the love

Note: I know, I wandered off to Boston for the weekend without so much as dropping a hint over here.  I apologize.  To tide you numerous devoted readers over until I write about my trip, here’s something I wrote in the car on Saturday.

First of all, it turns out Michael (my boss at Brötchen, thought it doesn’t feel that way) has read this blog.  AWKWARD.

So in an effort not to get dooced, I will henceforth be careful to say only positive things about work.  Not that there are any negative things.  (Seriously.  Even the sore arms are mostly just a source of pride for me.  Besides—hey look, I’m building muscle!)

Now, on to our regularly scheduled programming.

I must have been in an exceptionally good mood yesterday, because nearly everyone seemed like a customer of the day.

There was the guy who asked for skim milk for his coffee.  I rummaged around in the fridge a bit.  “I guess we only have 2%, unless you’d rather have orange juice in your coffee.”  Two percent was fine, he assured me.

There were two guys who asked what our unlabeled flavor of ice cream was and acted like they’d just won the lottery when I told them it was mocha almond fudge.  It’s a bit of a hidden treasure in plain sight.  They also competed over who could consume the most ice cream, which of course is all the better for us.

There was the guy who pulled out a large handful of change to count out 54 cents and dumped the rest in my tip cup.  I think tipping was invented solely for the purpose of improving self-esteem.

There was the guy who was so enthralled by our lemon juicer that he stopped by on two separate occasions for lemonade, plus the couple who was equally fascinated and wanted to take a picture of me operating it—except they didn’t want any lemonade.  I told them they could buy some and give it to a homeless person and feel really good about themselves, but they declined.

Speaking of which.

There were also a couple guys and a girl performing on acoustic guitar, African drums, and voice—not as part of an official group, just some people getting together to make music.  Once they had finished their rendition of “Hotel California,” I noticed the girl (who’d been singing) trying to work the water fountain, with no success.  She walked back dejectedly and sat down.

I thought about our cooler of drinks inside, and how divine a drink of water tastes after singing.

The surprise and gratitude in her eyes when I gave her a bottle of water is probably what started off my day on such an awesome note.

One of the guys followed me back to the ice cream stand to get some lemon sorbet.  “I’m the drummer,” he said with feeling.  “I busted my balls during that song.”

I gave him two spoons, so he could share the love a little.

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