Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
The Rosé Bakery and kitchen bustled with loud customers chatting about their daily lives and the world, with cashiers and staff working at full speed in both the kitchen and the dining area, rapidly pushing out orders. The phone at the cashier’s desk kept ringing, a sharp and distracting noise, and I could tell that the patrons and staff were about to go crazy if somebody didn’t answer the phone soon.
“Hey, Katie!” yelled one of my supervisors. “Can you please, for the love of Mother Earth, pick up that phone that’s bugging the crap out of me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I yelled back, weaving through the large crowds as I wondered what the person on the phone wanted, and how a small phone call could cause such a ruckus and stressful environment. I reached the front desk, the phone still ringing with its annoying sound, and grabbed it as one of the customers knocked over a clean tray of cups and small plates. One of the staff members rushed to the patron, making sure that they were doing well before making sure that everything was in order.
“Rosé Bakery, this is Katie. How may I help you today?” I said, breathing in and out as I tried to maintain my calm over the mayhem around me.
“Hi! I’m Freya and I was wondering if you had any available caneles and fruit tarts?” responded Freya. I could sense a bit of inner panic and stress as she was speaking, and I felt my heart racing in sympathy, my rising thoughts wondering what was weighing on my mind.
“We do,” I replied, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen part as I confirmed with Emilie, one of my friends who worked as a baker. “How many do you need and when are you free to pick them up?”
“Twenty-five caneles and twenty fruit tarts would be perfect for me,” answered Freya. “I can pick them up by tomorrow at eight a.m. if that sounds good to you! Thank you so much — I appreciate it.”
“Sure, no problem! I’m happy to help,” I said, as I wrote down what she wanted on a piece of paper. “Can I have your last name as well so I can finalize the order?”
“Freya Castor,” replied Freya, as that tiny bit of panic and stress I’d sensed earlier in our phone conversation disappeared without a lingering trace.
“Perfect, we’ll see you tomorrow at eight a.m. with your order,” I said. “Thank you for placing your order with Rosé Bakery, and we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow!”
“See you tomorrow!” exclaimed Freya, with a trace of happiness in her voice. As I hung up, a wave of relief washed over me. It was a small victory that brought my stress down a little bit in the midst of the bustling madness. I turned back to the dining area, where the noise of chatter and clattering dishes created the constant sense of chaos and distraction that had been there since we opened early this morning. Just then, another customer approached the front desk, a frown creasing her brow as she waved her hands in clear frustration and anger.
“Excuse me, but my order of two plates of strawberry and blueberry macarons was supposed to be available ten minutes ago!” she complained, her voice rising above the chaos of the bakery.
“Of course, I’ll be happy to check that for you,” I replied, tapping my left foot frantically against the smooth tile while keeping my voice steady. I grabbed a nearby pad of paper and scribbled down the details of her order while mentally noting the time that this had happened.
As I glanced back at the kitchen for a small break, I saw Emilie bustling around, covered in flour, but managing a smile as she worked. Her confidence was infectious, and I felt a little more grounded. I took a deep breath, trying to embrace the whirlwind of chaos around me.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” I assured the customer, ready to dive back into the frenzy. “Sorry, we’ve been busy since this morning.”
Just then, the phone rang again, cutting through my thoughts. I sighed once, and then again, glancing at the chaotic scene before me.
“Here we go again,” I muttered under my breath, bracing myself for another round of orders.
The Rosé Bakery and kitchen bustled with loud customers chatting about their daily lives and the world, with cashiers and staff working at full speed in both the kitchen and the dining area, rapidly pushing out orders. The phone at the cashier’s desk kept ringing, a sharp and distracting noise, and I could tell that the patrons and staff were about to go crazy if somebody didn’t answer the phone soon.
“Hey, Katie!” yelled one of my supervisors. “Can you please, for the love of Mother Earth, pick up that phone that’s bugging the crap out of me?”
“Yeah, sure,” I yelled back, weaving through the large crowds as I wondered what the person on the phone wanted, and how a small phone call could cause such a ruckus and stressful environment. I reached the front desk, the phone still ringing with its annoying sound, and grabbed it as one of the customers knocked over a clean tray of cups and small plates. One of the staff members rushed to the patron, making sure that they were doing well before making sure that everything was in order.
“Rosé Bakery, this is Katie. How may I help you today?” I said, breathing in and out as I tried to maintain my calm over the mayhem around me.
“Hi! I’m Freya and I was wondering if you had any available caneles and fruit tarts?” responded Freya. I could sense a bit of inner panic and stress as she was speaking, and I felt my heart racing in sympathy, my rising thoughts wondering what was weighing on my mind.
“We do,” I replied, looking over my shoulder to the kitchen part as I confirmed with Emilie, one of my friends who worked as a baker. “How many do you need and when are you free to pick them up?”
“Twenty-five caneles and twenty fruit tarts would be perfect for me,” answered Freya. “I can pick them up by tomorrow at eight a.m. if that sounds good to you! Thank you so much — I appreciate it.”
“Sure, no problem! I’m happy to help,” I said, as I wrote down what she wanted on a piece of paper. “Can I have your last name as well so I can finalize the order?”
“Freya Castor,” replied Freya, as that tiny bit of panic and stress I’d sensed earlier in our phone conversation disappeared without a lingering trace.
“Perfect, we’ll see you tomorrow at eight a.m. with your order,” I said. “Thank you for placing your order with Rosé Bakery, and we’ll see you bright and early tomorrow!”
“See you tomorrow!” exclaimed Freya, with a trace of happiness in her voice. As I hung up, a wave of relief washed over me. It was a small victory that brought my stress down a little bit in the midst of the bustling madness. I turned back to the dining area, where the noise of chatter and clattering dishes created the constant sense of chaos and distraction that had been there since we opened early this morning. Just then, another customer approached the front desk, a frown creasing her brow as she waved her hands in clear frustration and anger.
“Excuse me, but my order of two plates of strawberry and blueberry macarons was supposed to be available ten minutes ago!” she complained, her voice rising above the chaos of the bakery.
“Of course, I’ll be happy to check that for you,” I replied, tapping my left foot frantically against the smooth tile while keeping my voice steady. I grabbed a nearby pad of paper and scribbled down the details of her order while mentally noting the time that this had happened.
As I glanced back at the kitchen for a small break, I saw Emilie bustling around, covered in flour, but managing a smile as she worked. Her confidence was infectious, and I felt a little more grounded. I took a deep breath, trying to embrace the whirlwind of chaos around me.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” I assured the customer, ready to dive back into the frenzy. “Sorry, we’ve been busy since this morning.”
Just then, the phone rang again, cutting through my thoughts. I sighed once, and then again, glancing at the chaotic scene before me.
“Here we go again,” I muttered under my breath, bracing myself for another round of orders.