Friday, November 11, 2005


For the past few years I've had a dream of wanting to work in a bakery in Brooklyn. It's one of those silly dreams that pops in my head now and again when my day to day office routine gets the best of me. My vision is a hard working one. Long hours but with a purpose. After all, nothing screams success like a fresh tray of hot cross buns.

Like most dreams however I'm aware the vision is not the reality. I know from experience. In junior high at the age of fourteen, I had plans to spend my summer eating popsicles, listening to Milli Vanilli, watching MTV and working on my tan. Instead my parents 'ruined my life' by telling me I had to get a summer job.

I grew up in a small Long Island town. My choices for employment were limited. The gas station. 7-11. The video store. The Shirt Shack. The bakery. I opted for the bakery owned by a French man who was known to take in ex-carnies that passed through town for employment. The summer was spent sweeping and mopping up floors full of flour and dealing with annoying weekenders that said things to me like, "Miss...can you speed it up? We need to drive back to the New York city. That's far from here."

I ended up writing my college essay about my experience working there. The material is so rich and the characters I couldn't have made up if I tried.


At 7:11 AM, Blogger Floridora said...

The heck with a bakery, go back to college and teach the world how to write as well as you do. You are sooo good!


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