Ice Cream

Chapter Three

"That will be seven dollars, sir." I told the recent customer who bought a double scone chocolate chip ice cream. He was a regular here who stopped by at least twice a week. His obsession with ice cream was over the top if you asked me but then without people like him, the shop wouldn't run and I wouldn't get paid, so, please eat all the ice cream available sir.  He handed over a twenty dollar bill to me and asked me to keep the change. I grinned and appreciated his overly generous tip which was way higher than what he actually spent on his dessert. He commented on how jovial I always seemed to be everyday and how much he admired my bubbly persona.

"Sam, I need your help out here." Rose, my coworker of Pakistani-Italian origin, called out to me. I excused myself to help her, getting out of the shuttle bus to meet her where she stood trying to wipe off some ice cream from her uniform with a paper towel. The scene before me was so funny, I almost laughed out loud but I knew I'd be making jest of her that way so I refrained myself. Instead, I asked what she needed my assistance in.

"I want us to switch. You take the customers' orders and serve them while I stay in the bus to prepare their orders. Please can you do that for me?" She begged like she was tired of life entirely, not just serving ice cream. We were the only workers operating in this shop and normally switched work positions weekly; while she worked in the bus, preparing orders, I received the orders and served our customers and vice versa. Whoever was situated in the bus was expected to handle payment transactions. That way, the one serving didn't get distracted with so much work. Though I loved the weeks I worked in the bus, placing different flavours of ice cream in cups, wafer cones and fancy plates, I preferred the duty of going around getting orders. The latter was more strenuous but I got to converse with our customers and get to build affinity with them. I was able to memorize many customers' favorite flavours and got larger tips through this means. My job as an Ice cream seller at age 32 was technically supposed to be one to embarrass or mock me and how less I had achieved as an adult woman nevertheless, I ensured I worried less and gave gratitude more. Afterall, a numerous amount of others in my age grade lived far worse lives. Some had already died! However, I was fortunate enough to be alive and fulfilled a few of my dreams. That was worth rejoicing over, right?

"Okay Rose. Here, take my apron and let me have the ordering notepad." we exchanged these items with her showing appreciation for agreeing to switch duties.

"I wonder why Mr sexy chocolate Chip Ice Cream hasn't popped by today. He's usually here by this time and always taking a seat over there." She pointed ahead of us to couple of chairs located by the extreme left of the shop. I was well aware of the particular customer she referred to.

"Who are you talking about?" I enquired, feigning ignorance.

"Ah! Don't play coy with me. I'm certain you know Mr African butter, that fine as hell black man who always visits us every evening by 5pm and sits right over there in his fancy clothes." by eavesdropping on our interaction, one would think she was obsessed with this guy but for real, who wouldn't? I wasn't oblivious to the charm of the mystery man who frequently visited at the exact time Rose stated. He would sit for about an hour, order absolutely nothing and leave, often dropping a huge tip at his exit. I lived for the days he would visit so I could get nothing less than a hundred dollars for basically doing nothing for him. A man like that was without a doubt rich.

In fact, you could see that in the clothes he wore, how neat, expensive and fancy looking they were regardless, I had never seen him in nothing but a suit in all his five visits to the shop. Oh yes, I counted, don't sue me!

"Yeah, I wonder why he isn't here today. Maybe he got caught up with work and won't be coming over today." I replied, acting uninterested.

"Or maybe he lost his wrist watch or something and has no idea it's time to come visit us. Maybe when he realizes that, he'll visit us no matter how late." her more than hopeful, nearly obsessed, explanation made no sense but I shrugged, agreeing irregardless.