Do you work at a job where you feel a little guilty? Say, your job description has you doing something a bit immoral, or something seemingly immoral, but you do it any way just because, well, times are tough and you gotta' get paid some how.
That's how I look at my part-time job at Ben and Jerry's. I mean, these guys are great. Good ol' Ben and crazy dude, Jerry. They got together one cloudy afternoon, holed up in their living room in the 70s, smoking a bong and thinking about what they're going to do with their lives and then all of a sudden . . . EPIPHANY!
It's hot outside. It's the summer time. We're a little stoned. We've got the munchies. We want something cold to eat. BINGO! Let's start an ice cream franchise! And by God did they ever.
Now-a-days, Ben and Jerry's is a world renowned ice cream company where its customers are willing to shovel out big bucks for just a couple of scoops of Cherry Garcia in a sugar cone and for most people there is absolutely nothing wrong with treating yourself to a sweet treat on a hot summer day, but after working at one of the franchise's scoop shops for about a year, I've noticed a trend in Ben and Jerry customers.
Here's how I break down the variety of patrons.
First off, you've got the kids.
These are your everyday, commonplace rugrats who are spoiled beyond belief by their University memorabilia-wearing parents.
For example: Three little blonde-headed runts walk into the shop with their guardians. When I say walk, I actually mean sprinting at lightning speed through the entrance and not slowing down until they reach the front of the ice cream dip cases. With wide eyes and savory mouths, the children gawk at the ice cream spectrum of 30 flavors, ranging from your basic chocolate to the uniquely cinnamon sweetness of Oatmeal Cookie Chunk. But kids seem to not care about the uncommon flavors--they go straight for a vanilla cone with rainbow sprinkles. But when little Johnny orders chocolate and little Suzie gets strawberry all hell breaks loose on the spoiled platinum bunch. Little Johnny cries because Suzie got the pink ice cream and now he wants the pink ice cream, and while little Suzie laps up the remaining drops of pink shake at the bottom of the cup, little Johnny throws his chocolate cone on the ground with a SPLAT!, leaving a chocolate milk lake with little rainbow colored logs floating pitifully on the tiled shop floor.
All I do is look straight ahead. No amusement whatsoever.
And of course little Johnny gets a new ice cream. This time it's a little bit of chocolate and a little bit of strawberry. Either you are damn good at what you do little Johnny, or you were just never taught discipline. I'm going with the latter.
I see this kind of thing every day. It brings me back to the same conclusion every time-- I never want to reproduce.
The next run of the mill customer to grace Ben and Jerry's with their patronage are the sorority armies. These ladies are peculiar, but easy to spot.
#1 They travel in packs. These girls are like Visa cards, you can't leave home without them. When one walks the others follow (in more ways than one.)
#2 They call frozen yogurt "fro-yo." Nothing steams my nerves more than when someone orders, "One Half-Baked fro-yo in a cup please."
I reply, "Sorry, we are fresh out of the Half-Baked FROZEN YOGURT."
They say, "Oh. My. GAW! No fro-yo! Wellllll, I'll just take an addicted to chocolate shake with skim milk."
And then I think, "Yea, cause' the skim milk is gonna prevent this 1,000 calorie treat comprised of 3 different chocolate ice cream flavors from going straight to your ass."
#3 Generally, sorority girls have a tough time making a decision on what ice cream to purchase so they try a million samples and then end up getting the same thing their other friend just ordered because conformity is cool. But I'm not judging, just observing (we all conform to some degree.)
#4 And for shallow and stereotypical purposes, sorority girls are blonde, caked with makeup and rocking one of their sorority's many date night/fund-raising/bar-hopping/formal dancing t-shirts with some Nike sport shorts and Jesus sandals.
Thank you girls for your business.
With any customer service job, you will always find your regulars. Now this is where the guilt starts to creep in a bit.
The regulars are your every day businessmen, athletes, students and lonely middle-aged men/women. These are the people you see every shift. They come and order (pretty much) the same thing every time.
Example: Tall, skinny, mid-30's Middle Eastern man. Very personable. Tips every time. Orders the large Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough dish without fail.
Tall, long dirty-blonde haired female. First name: Jennifer. Always asks for my name each time I work. Also very personable. Orders the Chocolate Fudge Brownie in a sugar cone time every trip she makes to B&J's.
But not all of the regulars are tall and they're definitely not all skinny. So here's that guilt I've been speaking of.
Let's be honest. Working at an ice cream shop is cute, and it's harmless fun. It's an ideal summer job. But after you've worked at an establishment such as the Ben and Jerry's for longer than six months, you start to notice a lot of people's unhealthy eating habits. And as the masses descend upon your shop, the asses seem to only get wider.
I'm a struggling college student, trying to earn enough cash to support myself after my parents cut the cord, so quitting a job because my morals don't coincide with the job at hand isn't exactly a wise decision in the I-want-to-have-food-on-my-table-tonight-and-for-the-rest-of-my-nights way of looking at things.
So when a party of 3 that looks like the could be cut in half to make a party of 6, come into the store and start sampling every fucking flavor in the freezer, I start to feel bad, because we all know sugar and dairy packed ice cream is the last thing these people need.
There have been so many times when I've wanted to scream, "STOP! Don't you know obesity is an epidemic in this country?" I can't help but feel like I am supporting this scary trend in America. We are known as a country of unhealthy, overweight slobs and every drip of Imagine Whirled Peace that falls on the sweating bellies of these unfortunate people makes me want to jump over the counter and slap the sample stick out of their fat fingers.
It may sound like I'm being harsh, but I'm just being real with it. You are killing yourself by eating this ice cream family of 3 who together weighs close to 900 lbs.
But I am a silent activist. Meaning I will continue to do nothing, even though I know these people are making extremely bad decisions. Because, while they can't stop eating, I want to be able to afford a meal at night. So, I'm just going to apologize up front. I'm sorry for indirectly supporting your bad habits, all of you overweight, bad decision makers of the world. I don't want to see you die of a heart attack, or succumb to the coalescence of all your many health mistakes, but jobs are hard to come by these days, and Ben and Jerry's pays me pretty well for it being a part-time job and all.
It's hard to be a martyr with an economy like this.
And how blissful it is to indulge in a spoonful of that Dulce Almond ice cream.
Geez. Ben. Jerry. You're not setting a very good example.
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