Suzi (k00kaburra) wrote,

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The uber-craptacular morning...

Yume: I wake up in a room that is large and plain. The walls are mostly empty, save for a single poster that is hanging by a single pin, off-center. The bed is the dominant feature, positioned so that it takes up the most space possible and demands attention. The leftmost corner blocks the door to the rest of the building slightly. A massive computer system, with multiple screens and anfractuous serpentine wires coiling everywhere, is the only other thing of note is the darkened room. There are no windows and no sources of light save the dull glow from the computer screens.
I'm wearing someone else's shirt, a large man's button-down plaid with the sleeves rolled up to my elbows, and Japanese long socks that are bunched below my knees. Instead of finger nails, my right hand has little green and black computer chips at the tips. I walk over to the largest computer screen and drag my fingers across it; the picture breaks up in response to my movements.
I hear my host return; the door swings open and shut and reflected on the monitors is a figure carrying a silver tray with breakfast food piled high. I turn and smile at him sadly; electric currents gather at my fingertips and disperse throughout his computer systems. Despite the numerous security precautions and surge protection he must surely have installed, it breaks down easily – some parts melt, others burn, but everything falls apart.
He is shuddering with rage and tears are poking at the corners of his eyes. "Have a piece of fruit!" he shouts, kicking the fallen tray of food at me. Hash browns splatter on my face.

Our roof is leaking again, so when I woke up this morning there really was something splattered on my face. Ceiling plaster, ugh.

Work was so horrible today. Javier, Jose's assistant, had missed a cake for eight o'clock, so when the poor woman showed up right at opening, we didn't even know about her cake, let alone have it ready. Thirty minutes later she sailed out again, relatively cheerful with a fresh cake in her arms, but our schedule was thrown off for the day. All our cakes were going to be late by twenty to forty-five minutes. During the weekday this isn't much of a problem, because people are never on time; but on Sundays they're on strict schedules and everything has to be perfectly timed. A man who had come to pick up his son's 1st Communion cake (it had Yu-Gi-Oh! on tacky is that? On a religious cake, his wife had ordered a cartoon character! I couldn't believe it...that's the sort' of thing I'd expect a psycho like Lindsay to pull! She'd wanted the card the character had been holding to be replaced with a cross...crazy lady.) had his wife on his cell phone, and while he waited for his cake she yelled at me about how disappointed she was, how much the bakery sucked, blah blah blah.
Lady: "Where is your boss? I want to talk to him right now!"
Me: "He can't come to the phone right now."
Lady: "WHY NOT? Go get him, you impertinent little-"
Me: He's working on your cake. ma'am. Do you want me to go pull his attention away from that?"
Lady: "..."
Lady: "I think you should refund my husband our money and-"
Me: "Ma'am, I've got to box your cake so I'm handing the phone back to your husband."
Lady: "I'm not finished yet!"
Of course, it only gets better. She called the bakery phone to ask if we'd remembered to put her cross on. I told her we had and hung up.

About ten minutes later another woman and her husband came in and asked for her cake; it wasn't ready either. In fact, the cake we had made for her (it was only waiting for decoration) was the wrong size; she'd ordered a third sheet, Javier'd prepped a quarter sheet. No biggie - they were more understanding about it; she agreed to come back later in the day and pick it up after Mass.

By now Jose was handling the complaints in person instead of having me relay the messages to him. The woman directly after the couple who had walked out wanted her cake, which Jose couldn't do because he didn't have the design for it. The photo in our cake book was not available; that snapshot was only there because when he'd started working at the bakery, people didn't know what airbrushed cakes look like. She was angry; the two of them sniped a bit.
Jose: You want cancel? It's fine!
Lady #2: I DO NO want to cancel, I want my cake!
Eventually she picked a new design and he promised to have it done soon, la-di-da. He thought she was waiting but instead she decided to pick it up later, so into the fridge it went. Thankfully, she was the last real problem for the morning; I couldn't have handled another one without going off on someone.

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