Editor's Column

by Allison Brandow

Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index
Previous Editor's Columns | Send mail to The Voice

The Sweet Scoop Is
Worth the Work

The idea played in my mind for months. I was 16 years old and legally old enough to get a job. A real job. Not just swatting flies for my mom for five cents each.

As I thought through the possibilities, my mind settled on the ideal workplace: Baskin Robbins.

To me, it had everything: air conditioning, happy people, a location near home and -- best of all -- ice cream.

What could be better?

But as my junior year of high school began, I found no time to start a job. Homework, college searches and SAT pretests filled my time.

Almost a year passed. Then, near the end of April, I went to Baskin Robbins to ask for an application. The manager quickly told me that she had just hired two people, but I could bring in my resume or ask again in a month.

I was disappointed. I still hoped to work at my dream job, but I thought it wouldn't happen.

I considered applying elsewhere. I even obtained an application from Dairy Queen.

As I sat down to fill out the application, though, I decided to give Baskin Robbins one more try.

After waiting two weeks, I returned to Baskin Robbins.

By that evening, I had my job. I had completed an interview and the manager told me what time to arrive on Monday.

Most of us know that new-job feeling. We've scooped ice cream or flipped burgers or run cash registers. Often the work is unpleasant. But at the end of the month we grin at our paychecks.

When I began working at Baskin Robbins, I did not know the difficulty of working with ice cream. I figured it would be an easy job. It wasn't.

The first thing I learned was how to scoop. I would pull my scooper through the ice cream and produce a misshapen glob of sweetness. And it was too small. Or too big. Or ugly.

After learning to scoop, I moved on to sundaes and drinks. Once, when I was making a smoothie, I set the blender on the edge of the dipping cabinet while I scooped some yogurt. After adding the yogurt and a ladle of strawberries, I stepped back and shut the dipping cabinet cover.

But I had forgotten the blender. The cover dislodged the blender, and the contents splattered on the floor. As I cleaned the floor and apologized to the customer, I wondered why I had chosen the job.

The job has other problems. My uniform shirt is bright pink and hangs around my body. I think my boss gave me a huge size just because I am at least five inches taller than she is.

Ice cream is cold. I dread entering the walk-in freezer that stays at negative 12 degrees Fahrenheit.

Repeatedly, I have been scheduled to work on holidays or days I specifically asked off.

Despite these difficulties, I enjoy the work. Ice cream became my passion as I learned to make the perfect banana split, scoop a perfect ball of ice cream in less than 10 seconds and frost ice cream cakes.

One of the best parts of the job is the customers. Regular customers often pause to chat or give advice. One woman, Micki, comes in every evening for her specialty coffee drink. We talk about my schooling, her job as a veterinarian assistant and our opinions of the latest country music. Her laugh always brightens my day.

Most customers eat ice cream with good feelings, so I rarely get complaints or excessive demands. Even when the lines grow long and I am the only one working, people wait, smile and thank me.

Now, four years into the job, I can name and describe each of the 44 flavors we serve in the shop and at least 10 others that have come and gone. I know the names and orders of our regular customers. I can run the shop when the manager needs a vacation. I chat and laugh with her as we decorate cakes and make schedules.

I still consider ice cream work to be the perfect job. Even so, when I graduate in the spring, I want to find another occupation. I am trying to decide what I want to do and what adventures it will bring. But I know God will provide, just as he did with my Baskin Robbins job.

Some people get their dream job. Others don't. For some reason, God gave me a great job and it is almost all I thought it would be. I thank him for it.

And I eat ice cream.

Back to Table of Contents | Back to Main Index
Previous Editor's Columns | Send mail to The Voice