On Making Waffle Cones

Photo Credit: Plymouth Magazine

This is the only Saturday that I have had off all summer, and it is bittersweet. It is the last Saturday that I will spend at home before I go back, and I have a lot to do to get ready for school. I haven't even started packing. While I am more than ready to return to college, it is always sad to watch summer come to end. I spent this summer taking care of my little sister, Sydney, and working part time at local ice cream and french fry shop (which is not called "Ice Cream and French Fries"--like many people think because they read the logo wrong), Honey and Mackie's. That's right, we serve ice cream and french fries, folks. The perfect combination of sweet and salty. Plus, if you're looking for a little something more we also serve hot dogs, and have some specialty fries that are a little more filling.

In trying to describe my second summer working here, I decided to make a visual. Without further ado, I present you with my venn diagram.

Now, for some further explanation. At first I thought a simple pro-con list might do to describe my feelings toward my work. But I realize there were some aspects that fell somewhere in the middle.

For instance, discounted ice cream and french fries might be seen as a perk, or it might be seen as a fast track to keeping on the freshman 15 (that you might or might not have gained).

Getting easily scared by your manager. If you read, "Forget Monsters. I'm Scared of Living People,"  you would know that I am easily startled--and for some reason this comes out even more at work. Luckily the majority of the "instances" (aka me screaming over my manager walking into a room unannounced or the like) have been when we are slow so I haven't managed to frighten any customers. But apparently I have more than proved my lung capacity--oops!

And then, there is making waffle cones. Sounds fun, right? The mouth-watering aroma of waffle cone batter fills the store. Our cones are fresh and homemade--both great characteristics of any food place. Plus, customers get a front-row seat in the action, because we make them right behind the dipping cabinets filled with homemade ice cream. (Have I made you want to stop in yet?)

Behind the counter is a tad different. You have to get the batter just right: too thick you end up with mushy wannabe waffles and too thin you end up with waffle bites (which we sell for only $1). Then you have to worry about getting an even color throughout the cone. You don't want it to be too light and you don't want to burn it, and you don't want one half to be considerably darker than the other side. If you fill it the waffle cone maker with too much batter you have to scrape the edges, because otherwise it will have gooey batter around the cone. Careful! Don't reach over the waffle cone makers while they are hot--you will get burned. Next you have to worry about rolling it. They are rolled in this little contraption with a pointed roller, and if you push the roller in too far you end up with too big of a hole on the bottom, which means ice cream would drip right out. Plus, if you don't roll it right after you get it out, it will harden, which means more waffle bites.

Once you start getting good at making waffle cones, you inevitability attempt making two at once. This is where it gets even trickier. You can't put both down at once because, like I said, you have to roll them as soon as you take them out, and unless you have super powers (which would totally land you a job here, or possibly your own reality show) it is impossible to roll two at once. The timers are screaming at you left and right. And even though you waited until one was half done to put down another one, you end up with two done at the same time, because one wasn't done after a minute for whatever reason. Or maybe  three families walked in, children pressing their grubby fingers against the sneezeguard of the dipping cabinets, and you're elbow deep in waffle batter.

But at the end of the day you still love your job, because you leave a hard days work flexing your newly toned arms and thinking about all the smiles from the little girls and boys who just wanted a little ice cream before dinner. And you're not even scared, because the awesome people you work with can't startle you any more.*

This post was not sponsored. I really love my job. 

*No one actually tries to scare me at work--I can't seem to figure out why I am so easily startled.

Decorations, Dresses, and Direction Disasters

Friday night was a world of fun. First, I got to spend a solid three and half hours covering the school in hearts. Yes, a bunch of NHS kids got together and decided to purposely make the school look like Valentine’s Day threw up on it. With my legs shaking and feet tightening, I climbed on top of the lockers and hung hearts from the ceiling. And after three-hours of work, back pain, and aching feet, two freshmen girl will appreciate all of the work. Then boys with nothing better to do will try to show off to their friends as they rip hearts from the ceiling and tear all of our hard work to shreds. I see you stupid sophomore boy with cupid’s head in your hands. Put it down and slowly back away.

When we were finally done, I rushed home and got ready as quickly as humanly possible. I picked my friend, Grace, up and we dashed to the mall. Looking for a dress isn’t easy on a good day. But when you’ve just downed two pieces of pizza and a Coke in the school cafeteria in between scattering the school with hearts, the last thing you think is that you look cute. It didn’t help that the first two dresses I tried on made me look like a twenty-year-old prostitute. And all my friend could say is “They’re not really you.” Well, thanks… At least I don’t usually look like a lady of the night. (Side note: I’m pretty sure the song “Taylor” by Jack Johnson is about a hooker… and I recognized that in eighth grade after my friend told me how cute the song was…)

After trying on several more mediocre dresses, I decided I wasn’t going to find a dress for Sadie’s. So she got what she wanted and we went to Panera for a quick snack. At last, we decided we better try to find our way home. Seeing as it was past nine o’clock and we had trouble getting here in the first place, we decided it was probably best to be very calm trying to get home.

That lasted until about 35 minutes in when I started throwing down curse words somewhere around University Drive. At one point we ended up near my grandma’s house, and I gleefully pumped my fist back in success. Then the freeway started to go into two different directions again… and I picked the wrong one. Every time that the freeway divided, I ended up on the wrong side. At this point, she’s like “Taylor it’s so weird to hear you swear. Just calm down. Be like those people in the sixties and seventies; they were so chill.”

“Grace, they were chill because they smoked hippie lettuce.”

“Haha I know, but just pretend.”

Finally we found the right freeway and I navigated my way home. I don’t know the last time I had such an eventful Friday night. Considering how tired I am after a week of school, I hope that was the last “fun-packed” Friday for a little while. (Just kidding, I already know my next two Fridays are crazy between the school Pageant show and that little thing called my golden birthday coming up.) But I could use some peaceful, stress free nights. Preferably without any hippie lettuce.