SIR SCOOPSALOT
By
You want to know why I never say "no" to cherries on my sundae? I'll tell you why! There are two types of people in this world: Those with cherries on top of their sundaes and those without. I never decline that shiny, red sphere. Unfortunately, I noticed some decline in this majestic attribute to the ice cream world. I reached this conclusion after a short stint as an ice cream scooper. Even in a town as conservative and upper-crust as Nantucket, I encountered an amazing smorgasbord of characters while working at Crazy Quinn's Ice Cream Bakery. It was the summer following my sophomore year and while my friends were out surfing I was scooping. I was working with the public, an activity some find unbearable, and I found myself having fun. Each person was different, a new challenge if you will. Some were quiet, some boisterous and some were just rude. They all, however, had one thing in common; each person that I served taught me an invaluable lesson in life. I mastered the art of patience through endless encounters with screaming toddlers. I learned to laugh at my own mistakes, instead of getting frustrated, when I dropped a cone or spilled a shake. I also continued the lifelong process of learning how to communicate with others.
"Okay...now, kids? These are the flavors over here….No. those are the toppings, sir. The flavors are right over on the side. We also have Pistachio frozen yogurt... it's quite good." I loved the amount of power I yielded just by being the person who scoops out ice cream. It amused me to no end. Any chance I got I would test the limits of this power. The authority granted to me by the almighty ice cream scoop was absolute. The reason was simple; portions of ice cream are, by no means, measured exactly.
"Wow! That's small!"
"Yup," I would say proudly as if I had just been the bestower of knighthood.
However, most of the time I used my power for good to make people happy. I once made a cone nearly seven scoops high. It was a splendid feat of ice cream architecture, a veritable Frank Lloyd Wright of ice cream. When I handed it over, the portly recipient was left struggling for words. "Geez... thanks... wow!" was all he could manage as he tried like a circus performer to balance it.
I found the most joy for people seemed to come from seeing the frozen cream being scooped out onto a cone. Silently they pleaded that the arm with the scooper would not stop lurching into the huge tub of ice cream. As a child I used to hate when the scoopee failed to press the ice cream down so that it filled the inside of the cone. I felt I had been cheated out of all the ice cream that the shell of the cone would have concealed. However, with me as the scooper most people did not have that problem.
I couldn't stand how many adults never liked to show their delight upon receiving an enormous cone brimming with mounds of ice cream. When giving anything to this type of person, and I encountered quite a few, I would always be sure to watch their faces. Most of the time, it was the eyebrows that gave it away- a subtle raising of the eyebrows to convey a hidden, childhood desire. Some would open their mouths ever so slightly and form the beginning of the expression "whoa." Then they would catch themselves, clear their throats, even out their cuffs and say, "So.. .how much do I owe you?”
As an adult, being asked by a teenager whether or not you want a cherry on top of your sundae has got to be the single most embarrassing thing that can happen. I reveled in the type who shifted his hand uneasily in his pockets, searching for change that wasn't needed. He would feel a white hot spotlight on him and no matter how badly he wanted that cherry, it was always turned down with an embarrassed giggle or an awkward smile, that would imply that as an adult he most definitely would not want a cherry on top of his hot fudge sundae. I preferred the people who approved of the cherry. They would wave their hands and, in a very cavalier manner, okay the cherry.
"What?"
I said, "Would you like a cherry on that?"
“Would I like a cherry on that?! Why wouldn't I like a cherry on it?"
“Well, some people-"
“No, no, of course I want a cherry on it!"
“All righty!”
“Why, it's hardly a sundae if it doesn't have a cherry on top, now is it?"
I saw that these were usually the older patrons. It was as if the suggestion that they might not want a cherry would imply that they were out of touch with their distant youth. So many older people have so few things to remember their childhood. Maybe, by looking at that cherry, while I was placing it on their hot fudge sundae, they would be young again. No matter for how brief a time, they would look at their sundae complete with the red cherry and together we would smile.