Pinto Lesbeans

The Bakery

This is gonna be some metaphorical shit so buckle up everybody. It's really weird and doesn't make a whole lot of sense, and if you don't understand it, don't ask because there's no way I could possibly explain to you what is happening in this weird story that's supposed to have a moral or something I don't know just enjoy it.

•••

All day
I've been here
Behind this counter
Near the heat of the oven
Opening and closing the cash register
Hearing the jingling of bells when the door opens

Someone walks in
Comes up to the counter
And gives me a request
It's vague
Not much to work with
But I promise to do my best
They say
"It's fine if it's not perfect. It's only for family anyways."

So I dash to the back
And throw everything together
Baking has become second nature to me
Even though I shouldn't have to
I think when I bake
I still pay so much attention
To make everything perfect
When I add that pinch of salt
And each ingredient goes in
Thought through rigorously
As if to create a masterpiece
To be eaten by a few
And enjoyed

I bring it up front
After hours of work
To create the perfect cake
I call up the customer
And gently remind them
That their cake should be picked up at noon

Half an hour later
The same person strolls in
A scowl on their face
When the bells stop jingling
I ask them what's wrong
And the response I received
Was upsetting
"I ordered a chocolate cake, not lemon,
And I wanted it to be round.
I asked for pink icing
Not purple
And I wanted the writing to be teal.
And you made me drive here
Against my will
To pick up something I don't even want."
I stood there
Aghast
How could I have known?
When all I was asked for
Were some words on a cake

"I'm not going to pay for this,
In fact
I'm going to report your company for poor service
And if you don't get paid next month
My apologies
But I wish that you would've done your job better."
They turn on their heel and leave
Jingling the bells once more
It might be the last time I hear those bells
Because I might not work here anymore

Every carefully thought out piece
Of that beautiful cake
Was wasted
Because of how that customer acted
They didn't specify
What they wanted to receive
And somehow
I was punished for it
So now a sign hangs
On the customer side of the register
Asking consumers to specify their orders
But I only ever see that side of the register
Because I don't stand behind that counter anymore

It wasn't my fault
Why should I be punished?
I did exactly what they asked for
They received all they ever ordered
But somehow
I'm the bad guy
For doing the only thing I could've done

•••

I'm sorry for that. I have no idea what it was but whatever.