One afternoon recently I took a break from my work to go buy a healthy drink from the CVS. These days I am partial to a blueberry one - very refreshing. Mindful that these types of "healthy" drinks can come loaded with extra calories I try to drink half one day and the rest the next.
On this day as I walked to the store my route took me by a truck out of which were being sold cupcakes. The truck was painted an attractive pink and the business had a catchy name which I have already forgotten. It should have been called Conspicuous Cupcakes by the way I was drawn to it like a siren. We have a lot of these types of trucks in the City where I work, each selling some different type of specialty food. I really like the concept that you can try something different and you know it is only there for a limited time, which makes it all a bit edgy, like you are both getting away with something.
Cupcakes have been "hot" lately, with a couple of different gourmet stores opening in my neighborhood. I asked the guy in the truck what he had. Red velvet, carrot cake, one with a perfect little cookie on top and his personal favorite, something something called smores to name a few. It was $4 per cupcake, but being a sucker for a bargain, I asked for a variety of 6 for $15. When I looked down at the plastic box I now held in my hand, I could not say the cupcakes looked as amazing as I had imagined when I first saw the truck. Still, I liked to support local businesses and maybe they would be. Maybe they would live up to their promise and fulfill all my hopes and dreams and provide me eternal happiness.
As a man on a mission, I continued on to CVS to buy my drink. By the time I came out of the CVS and had more time to think, I realized I had made a mistake. I realized I would rather have my $15 back and now what was I going to do with six glorified cupcakes?
We all know one good turn deserves another and I decided to give them away to my unsuspecting colleagues, making myself appear generous all the while. As I entered the building I spied the woman who works behind the security desk in the afternoons. She and I exchange pleasantries each evening as I leave the building, commenting about the weather, the impending weekend or what not. Do I really know her? She calls me Sir, as the situation requires, but I do not honestly know her name. I approached her smiling. "Would you like a cupcake?" I ask, going on to explain their origins. She perused my offering and carefully selected Smores one. Her gracious thanks ringing in my ears. I entered the elevator to continue upstairs and complete my mission.
Once on my floor I next offered one to my youngest colleague. She, too, thanked me and took one, but I thought I noticed a momentary hesitation cross her face. What conflict passed there, I did not ask, but moved on down the hall to a new colleague. She as busy, but invited me in, and seemed interested in hearing the story behind the cupcakes. She too, chose one (the one with the cookie) and thanked me, but her face seemed to question what transaction had just taken place. The next person I offered one to, a man, quickly assessed the situation and said no thanks. Noticing his pause, I began to wonder if this might be harder than I thought. Then I passed a colleague's office who is pregnant. She looked slightly tired and chose the red velvet one, perhaps happy for a momentary distraction. The next woman I asked said they looked good. As she chose hers, she confided to me that she planned to eat only half of it that day and would save the rest for later.
On my way back to my office, an impulse caused me to stop by a woman's office who I know least. From one of our few conversations I knew that one of her hobbies is dancing and indeed, she has a dancer's lithe body. As she understood what I was offering she said, "No thanks, I can't", but her eyes said more. Her eyes looked slightly horrified, as though I had just offered her heroin. I mean no disrespect to heroin addicts. I saw the movie Ray so I have some idea of how powerful that addiction can be and how hard it is to overcome. But was I not selling another form of white powder, also powerful - sugar and flour? Suddenly, I saw my part in this transaction. What depths of human depravity was I capable of? What was I pushing? My impulse to buy cupcakes off the street how now been transmuted into a sick business.
Reeling, I staggered back down the hall. My god, what was I capable of? Like someone who has been in a car accident, I cannot account for the fifth cupcake. There must have been another victim along the way. All I can tell you is that I did not eat it. As I drank half of my blueberry drink, it tasted wonderful and satisfying.
Those of you who are careful about details are wondering what happened to the sixth cupcake. I did what any gutless pusher would do. I set the container out on the counter of our work's communal kitchen, a signal that it was available for anyone who wanted to take it. There is a wall separating my office from that kitchen so I could not see what happened next. But within a few minutes I heard the telltale sounds of a plastic carton being opened. The person who ate the last cupcake dutifully washed the plastic carton and put it in the recycling bin, a good corporate citizen to the end.
Was it someone who initially refused, giving way to a deep seated conflict? I will never know. I do not want to know. I can tell you that I got an e-mail from the woman who planned to eat only half her cupcake. She thanked me again and confessed she had eaten the whole thing. It did not make me feel better. The following day there were many follow up conversations about the cupcakes, where had I gotten them, why had I given them away?
What have I learned from this experience besides that cupcakes are wildly overpriced and do not deliver on their promise of remembered childhood satisfaction? That like me, others who I might not even suspect struggle with a complex relationship with food and weight. For myself, I realize I need to directly own my wishes and accept responsibility for them rather than act them out on or through others. I do not wish to make the world a fatter place. Finally, I would say a cupcake is just a cupcake, and frankly, it is not that good.
On this day as I walked to the store my route took me by a truck out of which were being sold cupcakes. The truck was painted an attractive pink and the business had a catchy name which I have already forgotten. It should have been called Conspicuous Cupcakes by the way I was drawn to it like a siren. We have a lot of these types of trucks in the City where I work, each selling some different type of specialty food. I really like the concept that you can try something different and you know it is only there for a limited time, which makes it all a bit edgy, like you are both getting away with something.
Cupcakes have been "hot" lately, with a couple of different gourmet stores opening in my neighborhood. I asked the guy in the truck what he had. Red velvet, carrot cake, one with a perfect little cookie on top and his personal favorite, something something called smores to name a few. It was $4 per cupcake, but being a sucker for a bargain, I asked for a variety of 6 for $15. When I looked down at the plastic box I now held in my hand, I could not say the cupcakes looked as amazing as I had imagined when I first saw the truck. Still, I liked to support local businesses and maybe they would be. Maybe they would live up to their promise and fulfill all my hopes and dreams and provide me eternal happiness.
As a man on a mission, I continued on to CVS to buy my drink. By the time I came out of the CVS and had more time to think, I realized I had made a mistake. I realized I would rather have my $15 back and now what was I going to do with six glorified cupcakes?
We all know one good turn deserves another and I decided to give them away to my unsuspecting colleagues, making myself appear generous all the while. As I entered the building I spied the woman who works behind the security desk in the afternoons. She and I exchange pleasantries each evening as I leave the building, commenting about the weather, the impending weekend or what not. Do I really know her? She calls me Sir, as the situation requires, but I do not honestly know her name. I approached her smiling. "Would you like a cupcake?" I ask, going on to explain their origins. She perused my offering and carefully selected Smores one. Her gracious thanks ringing in my ears. I entered the elevator to continue upstairs and complete my mission.
Once on my floor I next offered one to my youngest colleague. She, too, thanked me and took one, but I thought I noticed a momentary hesitation cross her face. What conflict passed there, I did not ask, but moved on down the hall to a new colleague. She as busy, but invited me in, and seemed interested in hearing the story behind the cupcakes. She too, chose one (the one with the cookie) and thanked me, but her face seemed to question what transaction had just taken place. The next person I offered one to, a man, quickly assessed the situation and said no thanks. Noticing his pause, I began to wonder if this might be harder than I thought. Then I passed a colleague's office who is pregnant. She looked slightly tired and chose the red velvet one, perhaps happy for a momentary distraction. The next woman I asked said they looked good. As she chose hers, she confided to me that she planned to eat only half of it that day and would save the rest for later.
On my way back to my office, an impulse caused me to stop by a woman's office who I know least. From one of our few conversations I knew that one of her hobbies is dancing and indeed, she has a dancer's lithe body. As she understood what I was offering she said, "No thanks, I can't", but her eyes said more. Her eyes looked slightly horrified, as though I had just offered her heroin. I mean no disrespect to heroin addicts. I saw the movie Ray so I have some idea of how powerful that addiction can be and how hard it is to overcome. But was I not selling another form of white powder, also powerful - sugar and flour? Suddenly, I saw my part in this transaction. What depths of human depravity was I capable of? What was I pushing? My impulse to buy cupcakes off the street how now been transmuted into a sick business.
Reeling, I staggered back down the hall. My god, what was I capable of? Like someone who has been in a car accident, I cannot account for the fifth cupcake. There must have been another victim along the way. All I can tell you is that I did not eat it. As I drank half of my blueberry drink, it tasted wonderful and satisfying.
Those of you who are careful about details are wondering what happened to the sixth cupcake. I did what any gutless pusher would do. I set the container out on the counter of our work's communal kitchen, a signal that it was available for anyone who wanted to take it. There is a wall separating my office from that kitchen so I could not see what happened next. But within a few minutes I heard the telltale sounds of a plastic carton being opened. The person who ate the last cupcake dutifully washed the plastic carton and put it in the recycling bin, a good corporate citizen to the end.
Was it someone who initially refused, giving way to a deep seated conflict? I will never know. I do not want to know. I can tell you that I got an e-mail from the woman who planned to eat only half her cupcake. She thanked me again and confessed she had eaten the whole thing. It did not make me feel better. The following day there were many follow up conversations about the cupcakes, where had I gotten them, why had I given them away?
What have I learned from this experience besides that cupcakes are wildly overpriced and do not deliver on their promise of remembered childhood satisfaction? That like me, others who I might not even suspect struggle with a complex relationship with food and weight. For myself, I realize I need to directly own my wishes and accept responsibility for them rather than act them out on or through others. I do not wish to make the world a fatter place. Finally, I would say a cupcake is just a cupcake, and frankly, it is not that good.
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