Omg you guys.
I am literally the queen of saying awkward things today...
I won't go into too much detail, but I spent this last weekend out of town, so I have spent all day today answering the zillion emails and voicemails for our business, scheduling people, rescheduling people, etc.
I returned a call to a new customer a little while ago, and set him up with an order. He decided that instead of having firewood delivered (by us), he would come pick it up himself. I'm always very professional on the phone, but of course, I'm also pretty casual in general, so you never know what I might say. Apparently.
Here's how it went down:
Him: Can I just come pick up the firewood myself?
Me: Sure! You also save $15.00 per load when you pick up, but bear in mind that you are loading it yourself, so it's up to you...save money and do more work, or spend more and save some time.
Him: Sounds good. I'm all about saving money. I'll pick it up.
Me: And, you can use the $15.00 to buy some gloves (for all the wood-stacking). I should have stopped HERE.
Him: Ok. Wait...do I have to buy gloves, or can I just... (he's kidding)
Me: (here's where it gets awkward) Nope. You can totally freeball it if you want.
*claps hand over mouth*
Him: *bursts out laughing*
Me: Oh. my. god. I did NOT just say that out loud. Pretend I didn't just say that.
Him: *choking on laughter*
Me: I'm hanging up now seeyouonmondaythe17thforthatpickupthanksbyeee
*facepalm* I MEANT TO SAY "FREE STYLE. You can totally freeSTYLE if you want..."
I'm such a dork.
What's your latest faux pas? Ever say the exactly most awkward thing possible in a conversation with a stranger, or worse, a customer?
Or WORSE...the reason this guy's name rang a bell when I added him to our customer list is (wait for it), because he was Shane's BOSS about 25 years ago. Oh. my. lord.
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Showing posts with label work. Show all posts
Tuesday, June 13, 2017
Wednesday, July 1, 2015
More Customer Service Nightmares
As I may have mentioned before, we have a lot of awesome customers, except for the Chosen Few who feel that it is their job to occasionally call me and behave like a total (insert favorite adjective *here*).
Or, as Aussa at Aussa Lorens so succinctly put it..."throw some shade".
I had another of these lovelies call me the day before last, at 7:30 a.m. I should have known. Because my FIRST rule of phone etiquette is to never answer my business phone before 9 a.m. Never. NOT. EVER.
I have also learned that ANY call that comes through on my phone caller I.D. as "Restricted"...also do not answer those EVER. Because anyone who PAYS to have their phone number hidden is hiding something. Like the fact that they're an ass.
But I was caught off guard the other morning, namely because I thought it might be the Sheriff's office calling. Not that that's a normal thing around here, but our daughter had her smartphone stolen the night before (insert lots of cursing about thieves *here*), and I had talked a couple of times with an officer by phone. So I was thinking it was the nice sheriff guy calling at 7:30 a.m. the next morning to tell me Hey, we found your phone, because we're awesome, and here's a winning lottery ticket, too.
No. UNfortunately, it wasn't the cops. It was a customer, whose name may or may not be RICHARD. I didn't answer the phone as a business, BECAUSE IT'S AN HOUR AND A HALF TOO EARLY FOR THAT. I just said "Hello", because it's 7:30 a.m. and I'm thinking it's the cops, so I may as well just answer as myself.
This guy doesn't even pause. He jumps right in, ignoring the fact that IT IS 7:30 A.M., which is a time of day that my brain only has certain sectors functioning--namely the Take Out The Dog sector and the Is There Coffee Made Yet sector. So my ears heard this: "I ordered from you last year, and my delivered product was too short. I ordered 16" and I had stuff that was 12-13" long in there."
Me: *blank stare at my phone because no coffee yet*
Him: And I have some other questions too. I just sent an order online just now and I haven't had a response yet. Did you get my order? Did it not go through? Because I have some concerns about last year's order.
Me: *blank stare at my phone because no coffee yet*
Him: Hello?
Me: Yes. Hi. I'm not at my desk for another hour and a half, so I haven't had time to check my e-mail yet, but I will call you back after I get in, OK?
Of course my office is about 20 feet from the couch, but if I don't set some boundaries, I will have people calling me at 10 p.m. to talk about their orders, so I'm very strict about my office hours.
We hung up.
I called him back at 9 a.m., STILL thinking at this point that this is a normal customer. As in, someone who just needs to place an order, and who is also probably an early riser.
hahahaHAHAAAHAA. Oh, no, my dears. That would be too easy.
I'd try to make this shorter but...I can't. You're here, so you know that already.
He morphed into a total condescending, snide, pompous, JERK. The third (or fourth, I lost count) time that I spoke with him, Shane was actually sitting here, so he is my witness. I never lost my cool, and I was never rude to this guy, but he was one of those people who just kept pushing and pushing.
I double-checked his original order, and he had in fact ordered 14" wood, so the 12 and 13" pieces would make sense. I told him this. He disagreed, even though I have the 14" noted in three places on his account from last year.
moving on
He then also "needed to ask" me about the type of wood he got (a year ago). He's pretty sure it wasn't all the right variety. I cheerfully said I couldn't possibly know what was on that truckload, because it was a year ago, but I'll make a note to MAKE SURE that we get the species right this year. Because Shane, who can tell what kind of tree it is, by the sawdust it leaves, couldn't possibly know wood species as well as a realtor.
NEXT, he needed to to point out that our delivery fees also "aren't fair". Because he checked, and we charge $40 to come to him (he's across a state line) and yet we "deliver for free to towns in our state that are, in fact, further away" than him. I said, yes, that's right. We charge $40.00 any time we cross the state line even if you live one inch over the state line. We had to draw a line somewhere, dude.
He wouldn't let it go. He was like "So...you charge more, even though I'm closer. I understand, then, from what you're saying, that you treat your Idaho customers better than you treat your Washington customers. I see."
Me: No. We just charge a delivery fee to your state. For anyone in that state.
Him: I'd like to know why you have that policy.
He actually argued this point AT SOME LENGTH, stating repeatedly that it's unfair, because he's closer than some of the places we go for free and he doesn't "understand our policy".
He just wouldn't let it go.
Me: *wth?* We've had our delivery fees in place for twelve years, so I couldn't probably tell you why they were put in place, but I could probably have Shane call you.
Him: Yes. I'd like someone to call me and explain to me why you unfairly charge a delivery fee, when I'm not actually that far away.
Me: *gritting teeth* I will make a note of that, but the fees will still apply. *brilliant idea* You may be able to find someone closer to your location there, who could deliver for free, if you check around.
Him: Oh, I see. So, just to be clear, so I understand you, you're saying I should find someone else to buy from? Let me tell you something--
Me: No, I'm trying to help you. You could definitely save money if you look around and find someone who can deliver for free. OR you can come pick it up in Idaho and save the $40 that way (YOU TIGHTWAD).
Him: I see. Let me tell you something. When I call a business for a service, I expect to get that service. I do not expect to be told by that business to go shop somewhere else. Because that is what you're saying. Just so we're clear and I heard you right, I'm calling you to order a service, and you're telling me to find another company to do business with?
Me: (YES OH GOD PLEASE YES)
Him: And when I call for a service, I also don't expect to be told that "Shawn" will call me back.
Me: Shane.
Him: So yes, I would like "Shawn" to call me back, because--
Me: Shane.
Him: I'm hearing sarcasm now. I do not expect to hear sarcasm from a business. I want him to call me back and explain your delivery fee policies to me.
Me: His name is Shane. (you idiot, if you're going be insulting, at least get the name right). I will pass all of this info along to Shane, and he can help you from there. Good bye.
*click*
WHO does this? Seriously??? Does he think we're going to call and explain to him our decision-making process from twelve damn years ago and possibly field arguments as to why it's unfair? I could scream.
Neither of us ever raised our voice, but he was just...so calmly nasty and condescending and, I don't know...(word, word, what's the word?)...when someone keeps trying to cause a fight? Confrontational? Antagonistic. That's what it felt like. Like he was trying to upset me.
I hung up, screamed and waved my arms around at Shane for a bit, wiped my tears (because I always cry when I'm really mad, which kinds of sucks), and poured a really strong drink. Two, actually...
I haven't heard back from him. Possibly because I blocked his email, because I also know from experience with jerks like this, that they LOVE to have the last word. After a nasty phone call, they ALways sit down and compose an even nastier email, saying how unhappy they are with our service, or our company, and how they can't believe how rude I was, and how much they hate me and that I am possibly also responsible for world hunger and the Fall of Man.
If he does call back, I'm ready to explain to him, so there's no mistake, that, we aren't suggesting you shop around--we're telling you: We won't sell to you, ever.
Yesterday I spent almost all day outside in the garden with my animals, listening to the breeze and the chickens, weeding and picking berries for currant-raspberry jam. Today I have been out there again all morning, shaping the roses and enjoying the sun. And I'm going back out there now.
At least with plants and animals, you know where you stand.
PS- thanks for listening. again
Or, as Aussa at Aussa Lorens so succinctly put it..."throw some shade".
I had another of these lovelies call me the day before last, at 7:30 a.m. I should have known. Because my FIRST rule of phone etiquette is to never answer my business phone before 9 a.m. Never. NOT. EVER.
I have also learned that ANY call that comes through on my phone caller I.D. as "Restricted"...also do not answer those EVER. Because anyone who PAYS to have their phone number hidden is hiding something. Like the fact that they're an ass.
But I was caught off guard the other morning, namely because I thought it might be the Sheriff's office calling. Not that that's a normal thing around here, but our daughter had her smartphone stolen the night before (insert lots of cursing about thieves *here*), and I had talked a couple of times with an officer by phone. So I was thinking it was the nice sheriff guy calling at 7:30 a.m. the next morning to tell me Hey, we found your phone, because we're awesome, and here's a winning lottery ticket, too.
No. UNfortunately, it wasn't the cops. It was a customer, whose name may or may not be RICHARD. I didn't answer the phone as a business, BECAUSE IT'S AN HOUR AND A HALF TOO EARLY FOR THAT. I just said "Hello", because it's 7:30 a.m. and I'm thinking it's the cops, so I may as well just answer as myself.
This guy doesn't even pause. He jumps right in, ignoring the fact that IT IS 7:30 A.M., which is a time of day that my brain only has certain sectors functioning--namely the Take Out The Dog sector and the Is There Coffee Made Yet sector. So my ears heard this: "I ordered from you last year, and my delivered product was too short. I ordered 16" and I had stuff that was 12-13" long in there."
Me: *blank stare at my phone because no coffee yet*
Him: And I have some other questions too. I just sent an order online just now and I haven't had a response yet. Did you get my order? Did it not go through? Because I have some concerns about last year's order.
Me: *blank stare at my phone because no coffee yet*
Him: Hello?
Me: Yes. Hi. I'm not at my desk for another hour and a half, so I haven't had time to check my e-mail yet, but I will call you back after I get in, OK?
Of course my office is about 20 feet from the couch, but if I don't set some boundaries, I will have people calling me at 10 p.m. to talk about their orders, so I'm very strict about my office hours.
We hung up.
I called him back at 9 a.m., STILL thinking at this point that this is a normal customer. As in, someone who just needs to place an order, and who is also probably an early riser.
hahahaHAHAAAHAA. Oh, no, my dears. That would be too easy.
I'd try to make this shorter but...I can't. You're here, so you know that already.
He morphed into a total condescending, snide, pompous, JERK. The third (or fourth, I lost count) time that I spoke with him, Shane was actually sitting here, so he is my witness. I never lost my cool, and I was never rude to this guy, but he was one of those people who just kept pushing and pushing.
I double-checked his original order, and he had in fact ordered 14" wood, so the 12 and 13" pieces would make sense. I told him this. He disagreed, even though I have the 14" noted in three places on his account from last year.
moving on
He then also "needed to ask" me about the type of wood he got (a year ago). He's pretty sure it wasn't all the right variety. I cheerfully said I couldn't possibly know what was on that truckload, because it was a year ago, but I'll make a note to MAKE SURE that we get the species right this year. Because Shane, who can tell what kind of tree it is, by the sawdust it leaves, couldn't possibly know wood species as well as a realtor.
NEXT, he needed to to point out that our delivery fees also "aren't fair". Because he checked, and we charge $40 to come to him (he's across a state line) and yet we "deliver for free to towns in our state that are, in fact, further away" than him. I said, yes, that's right. We charge $40.00 any time we cross the state line even if you live one inch over the state line. We had to draw a line somewhere, dude.
He wouldn't let it go. He was like "So...you charge more, even though I'm closer. I understand, then, from what you're saying, that you treat your Idaho customers better than you treat your Washington customers. I see."
Me: No. We just charge a delivery fee to your state. For anyone in that state.
Him: I'd like to know why you have that policy.
He actually argued this point AT SOME LENGTH, stating repeatedly that it's unfair, because he's closer than some of the places we go for free and he doesn't "understand our policy".
He just wouldn't let it go.
Me: *wth?* We've had our delivery fees in place for twelve years, so I couldn't probably tell you why they were put in place, but I could probably have Shane call you.
Him: Yes. I'd like someone to call me and explain to me why you unfairly charge a delivery fee, when I'm not actually that far away.
Me: *gritting teeth* I will make a note of that, but the fees will still apply. *brilliant idea* You may be able to find someone closer to your location there, who could deliver for free, if you check around.
Him: Oh, I see. So, just to be clear, so I understand you, you're saying I should find someone else to buy from? Let me tell you something--
Me: No, I'm trying to help you. You could definitely save money if you look around and find someone who can deliver for free. OR you can come pick it up in Idaho and save the $40 that way (YOU TIGHTWAD).
Him: I see. Let me tell you something. When I call a business for a service, I expect to get that service. I do not expect to be told by that business to go shop somewhere else. Because that is what you're saying. Just so we're clear and I heard you right, I'm calling you to order a service, and you're telling me to find another company to do business with?
Me: (YES OH GOD PLEASE YES)
Him: And when I call for a service, I also don't expect to be told that "Shawn" will call me back.
Me: Shane.
Him: So yes, I would like "Shawn" to call me back, because--
Me: Shane.
Him: I'm hearing sarcasm now. I do not expect to hear sarcasm from a business. I want him to call me back and explain your delivery fee policies to me.
Me: His name is Shane. (you idiot, if you're going be insulting, at least get the name right). I will pass all of this info along to Shane, and he can help you from there. Good bye.
*click*
WHO does this? Seriously??? Does he think we're going to call and explain to him our decision-making process from twelve damn years ago and possibly field arguments as to why it's unfair? I could scream.
Neither of us ever raised our voice, but he was just...so calmly nasty and condescending and, I don't know...(word, word, what's the word?)...when someone keeps trying to cause a fight? Confrontational? Antagonistic. That's what it felt like. Like he was trying to upset me.
I hung up, screamed and waved my arms around at Shane for a bit, wiped my tears (because I always cry when I'm really mad, which kinds of sucks), and poured a really strong drink. Two, actually...
I haven't heard back from him. Possibly because I blocked his email, because I also know from experience with jerks like this, that they LOVE to have the last word. After a nasty phone call, they ALways sit down and compose an even nastier email, saying how unhappy they are with our service, or our company, and how they can't believe how rude I was, and how much they hate me and that I am possibly also responsible for world hunger and the Fall of Man.
If he does call back, I'm ready to explain to him, so there's no mistake, that, we aren't suggesting you shop around--we're telling you: We won't sell to you, ever.
 |
| unfortunately, I work BOTH desks... |
At least with plants and animals, you know where you stand.
 |
| hold my calls, I'm hanging with Bindi today |
PS- thanks for listening. again
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
How To Get What You Want As a Customer
As a business owner for about 14 years now, and having simultaneously spent about 12 of those years running a wedding cake business, I have probably heard (or been subjected to) about every kind of customer input you can imagine, good and bad. Between Shane and I, we have over 100 years' combined business experience, so you can rest assured that what follows is gospel truth.
I thought I'd jot down a
Loosely based on my experience--here goes:
---------------------
1. When making a complaint, claim the moral high ground in any conversation. You are the offended party. Don't allow anyone to imply that your complaint isn't justified. EVERY complaint is justified, especially yours, no matter how insignificant the details. Like those muddy tire tracks on your driveway after the delivery truck leaves? DEFINITELY you should make a phone call about that, and expect someone to "come do something about it." If no one answers, follow up with several voice-mails. And emails.
2. Go ahead and freely use entirely subjective complaints about consumable products, long after they've been consumed. This makes your complaint impossible to verify and leaves the business owner in a no-win situation. See below:
Exhibit A:
You: That was the dryest cake I've ever eaten! How can you call yourself a cake decorator? Everyone complained about it and my daughter's whole wedding was pretty much ruined and they're possibly getting an annulment because of your cake. Your feeble excuse that it was eaten while still freezing cold out of the refrigerator is worthless. I want a full refund right this second! And you should have to pay for our dry-cleaning and unlimited wi-fi for a YEAR.
Owner: No problem. Just bring back the uneaten portion, and we will happily refund you the difference, even though it was perfectly good and just needed to sit out at room temperature before you all bellied up to the cake table, as I clearly stated, and you signed IN INK, right on the "cake instructions" page that you took with you when you picked it UP.
You: Oh, there's no cake left. We ate it all. But we still hate you and are going to tell everyone what a terrible baker you are. And you're rude, too!
3. Don't allow us to answer or defend ourselves on the phone or through emails--we are just trying to overthrow your reign of control and condescension. You can't let that happen. If we stand up for ourselves in even the slightest way, flare up with something like, "WHAT did you just say to me?" No business owner should be allowed to take control of the situation by halting you, mid-tirade.
4. If nothing else works, and you think we might have a point, play the trump card of age. You're older than me; hence, you automatically have more wisdom. Condescendingly ask "How old are you?" Immediately age yourself 20+ years beyond me. This puts you securely back in the driver's seat.
5. Start any emails or phone calls with the phrase "You people". This is condescension at its finest and allows you to immediately assert your dominance. Spend the whole conversation talking to us as if you can't believe you're having to waste your precious time telling us how to do our jobs. Act surprised that we've survived in business as long as we have. We appreciate your validation and look forward to feeling like you approve of our business plan.
6. Threaten to tell
7. Repeatedly tell us that we have failed to make you happy and have possibly ruined your future happiness, while striking down any offers we might make to rectify the situation. Even if we don't agree with you, we're obligated by law to listen. Remind yourself this as you repeatedly demand the impossible, and don't let us get a word in edgewise. When we do...tell us we're being SO RUDE.
8. Expect free stuff. If you voice your complaint forcefully enough, expect us to drop everything and deliver you more of our products, at no charge, based on your word alone. We don't need proof. Are we calling you a liar?
9. Ask to "speak to the owner". Act surprised when the woman who just answered the phone turns out to BE the owner. Do not let the situation be diffused, though. Demand to speak to a man. What could she know?
10. Feel free to hang up on us. Nothing says "I'm in control of this situation" better than just hanging up on someone. Granted, there's no satisfying "slam" to it, with cell phones, but you can make it more gratifying by calling us names before pressing <end>. Just be careful we don't call you right back in a cheerful voice and say, "I'm sorry, we got cut off. I wasn't finished." Because we probably will.
11. Claim to have had more years' experience as a business owner, than you actually have been alive. This impresses us to no end, because anyone who's had "300 years' combined business experience" sure as heck knows what they're talking about. We're all ears.
12. Pretend to avidly stay abreast of facts, price trends, profit margins, and safety issues relating to our business. Lord knows we sure don't.
13. Setting prices and profit margins should NOT be limited to individuals who actually run the business. Everyone knows this. You should definitely let us know if we're charging too much. Feel free to tell us what you *will* pay, and don't be embarrassed to offer us less than half our retail prices, "or possibly a little higher". We will appreciate your savvy negotiating skills and probably offer to just GIVE you this stuff for free.
14. Make your fight personal. When emailing your unhappy thoughts, it's helpful if you point out that you resent the owner's having mentioned the fact that she personally delivered your messy bundles of FREE kindling to your house in her brand-new BMW X-5, causing her to get a trunk-full of stupid sawdust and wasting the better part of an hour vacuuming out her car because of YOU. Her car-keeping troubles are not your concern. And she didn't bring enough kindling, anyway.
15. Be loud. Use LOTS OF UNDERLINING AND HIGHLIGHTED ALL-CAPS IN YOUR EMAILS SO WE ARE SURE TO HEAR YOU YELLING. Everyone knows the best approach in conflict resolution is to jump right to yelling.
16. It's also helpful to tell us, when you're ordering, that you will be needing/expecting us to perform about four additional services, which we don't offer, at no charge. Threaten not to pay for your merchandise if we don't meet your demands. Act offended when we say we don't offer those services, and threaten to take your business elsewhere.
17. When you threaten to "take your business elsewhere", rest assured that this will change the business owner's mind, on the spot, 100% of the time, possibly even more than 100% of the time. Every time. We will always beg you not to take your rude self somewhere else. hashtag goaway
18. If we actually do encourage you to please take your crazy, rude self somewhere else, act outraged. It is your right to behave as rudely as you can imagine, and it is our job to put up with anything you want to dish out. Forever and ever, amen.
19. When paying in cash, make sure to hand it to the delivery driver as if you're possibly funding Oliver Twist's first real pair of new shoes. He'll appreciate that you think he's needy and that your two crisp one-hundred-dollar bills might be the most money he's ever handled with his bare hands.
20. Give expert business advice, even if you're living in your mom's/son's/ex-wife's basement and spending your life trolling comment boards, crafting carefully-worded snide remarks from the behind the safety of your computer screen and an anonymous user name. We appreciate your input and your obviously higher understanding of our decision-making paradigms.
21. If you have never worked
22. Profess your Christian morals to the owner, but remember to also call them names in the same email, while also pointing out that you're pretty positive that they are NOT Christians. Your higher level of spirituality absolutely qualifies you to make those kinds of deep personal analyses via email.
23. Threaten to go on Yelp and make sure everyone in town hears what kind of business we run. Better yet, GO and post on Yelp and then send emails reminding us that we "really should check our reviews". Act surprised and offended when you realize we've blocked your email address and phone numbers.
24. Your negative input is absolutely always correct. We derive all of our personal validation from it and take it as a window into our souls. Thank you.
25. Enjoy the renewed sense of purpose that floods into your life as you realize that you've just caused a person you don't know to feel anxious, angry, or offended, without even leaving your couch.
This was going to be a list of ten, but then...I've got over 100 years' experience to pull from.
Tuesday, March 24, 2015
What Is This? Priceline??
Oh. My. Gosh.
Guys. I'm literally laughing out freaking loud right now. Here's a customer service laugh for all of you in retail.
We run a business selling retail firewood; we've been doing it for like 14 years. Per cord, our firewood prices range from 165.00-265.00. EACH.
I just received an email from an ex-customer, who hasn't ordered since 2006, because even then, he was SO CHEAP that he canceled an order over a $20.00 difference in price and asked us to take him off our mailing list because he "could find it cheaper somewhere else."
No problem. Took him off the list and never heard from him again. Until--
TODAY. *bing* An email shows up on my phone, which means it came through our website, where our prices are clearly LISTED.
He's ordering our top-priced wood, which is $265.00 PER CORD. He wants THREE cords. And here I quote:
Him: Will pay $110 per cord if it is buckskin tamarack. Prefer it above red fir, but might go $120 possibly. Note: Have been a customer previously.
Me: BAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA
*doubled over laughing so hard*
Is this effing PRICELINE?? OH MY GOSH!
*composes self and wipes tears of laughter* Oh, my abs...!
I quit laughing long enough to politely write him back, still snorting with laughter but maintaining the professional restraint to keep from instantly writing back--"You're kidding, right?" or "How about if I make you a counter-offer, then you can see if that works for you, then you can counter my counter-offer??" or "Yeah. 1965 was a good year."
What the actual HECK?!??
I wrote back:
Me: Hi *priceline-type customer*, Our current prices are available online. Unfortunately, we don't offer anything in that price range, but thanks for inquiring.
Best regards, yours truly, sincerely... etc., etc.
Guys. I'm literally laughing out freaking loud right now. Here's a customer service laugh for all of you in retail.
We run a business selling retail firewood; we've been doing it for like 14 years. Per cord, our firewood prices range from 165.00-265.00. EACH.
I just received an email from an ex-customer, who hasn't ordered since 2006, because even then, he was SO CHEAP that he canceled an order over a $20.00 difference in price and asked us to take him off our mailing list because he "could find it cheaper somewhere else."
No problem. Took him off the list and never heard from him again. Until--
TODAY. *bing* An email shows up on my phone, which means it came through our website, where our prices are clearly LISTED.
He's ordering our top-priced wood, which is $265.00 PER CORD. He wants THREE cords. And here I quote:
Him: Will pay $110 per cord if it is buckskin tamarack. Prefer it above red fir, but might go $120 possibly. Note: Have been a customer previously.
Me: BAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAAAA
*doubled over laughing so hard*
Is this effing PRICELINE?? OH MY GOSH!
 |
| hold up a sec- |
*composes self and wipes tears of laughter* Oh, my abs...!
I quit laughing long enough to politely write him back, still snorting with laughter but maintaining the professional restraint to keep from instantly writing back--"You're kidding, right?" or "How about if I make you a counter-offer, then you can see if that works for you, then you can counter my counter-offer??" or "Yeah. 1965 was a good year."
What the actual HECK?!??
I wrote back:
Me: Hi *priceline-type customer*, Our current prices are available online. Unfortunately, we don't offer anything in that price range, but thanks for inquiring.
Best regards, yours truly, sincerely... etc., etc.
Seriously, you guys--we haven't had anything under $140.00, even for our economy wood, since before 2005. What decade is he writing from? What response was he expecting?? Do you go the Home Depot counter with your cart and say, "I'll give you $50.00 for this whole cart full, maybe $75, but that's as high as I can go"?
I got such a kick out of this email that I couldn't even delete it, and it's too special to simply "save", so guess what? I made him his very own folder in my email folder list. It's called Things Worth Laughing At. And it now has one email in it.
*exhales*
whew. I just had to share that. Thanks for listening.
hashtag crazy customers whattheheck
Tuesday, November 18, 2014
No Computer for a WEEK = *UNHAPPY FACE*
Guys.
What the actual heck? I feel like I just got back from the stone age. Or time traveled back to a time where businesses were run with a pencil and note pad. Maybe even carbon copies. Because oh.my.gosh, our computer died.
died
I can't--even-- just, whaaaat.
Well. It was like 10,000 years old. I'm pretty sure the Windows 7 screen was in hieroglyphs.
So. I just spent a WEEK without access to our bank account, except through my phone screen (thank God for Android!!). A week with no access to our over 4,000 customer names and histories and info, except to sit and stare at the zip drive which I SO WISELY zipped off our dying old computer before it completely gave up the ghost.
I have been hand-writing schedule stuff on a printed-out schedule, with an actual pencil. I have a notebook full of notes, schedule changes, reminders, order changes, payment info, and customer requests. I think I actually have a pencil behind my ear right now. I have a stack of receipts and a hand-written "check register" that I tried to reconstruct using only my phone/bank/account online and my razor-sharp memory. (Which means, I have no idea how much money we have/don't have.)
My biggest dilemma was that I use a program for customer scheduling and data that integrates with Quickbooks, and Intuit kindly stopped making it and didn't replace it with a newer, better program. It just...doesn't exist any more. And the old version we use...doesn't work with Windows 8. It can be saved as a spreadsheet-type file and probably reloaded into some new database (read: SUPER PAIN IN THE BUTT CHORE OF A LIFETIME), but the bad news is: there is no way to transfer all the history/notes off that program and into any other program, except to manually go into 4,000+ names and click on each history note and copy/paste it somewhere to transfer to a new program. Thanks Intuit. I owe you one.
And we have 12 years' worth of notes. For over 4,000 customers...multiplied by the speed of light and the centrifugal force of x/pi + a divided by one really frustrated business owner, equals....
aaiiiieeeeeeeee *faints*
So naturally I have been moderately to severely freaking out for the past 6 months, while our old laptop limped along and randomly sometimes just refused to start (at ALL).
Knowing this was coming, I (see above) WISELY zipped everysinglefile off the old computer during its last attempt to live, onto a new zipdrive, so we didn't lose anything. So, other than completely (and I mean really) freaking out that we might be losing our notes as described above, we were safe.
Being relatively sure that 12 years of my carefully recorded notes were lost to us forever, but not our actual customer list, I dragged my bereft self into Best Buy last week to the sound of a mournful dirge, and asked the Best Buy Geek what to do.
He looked at me like, DUH, and said, "Just buy another Windows 7 computer."
* O__O *
Me: What?
Him: Yeah. Just go online and order another computer with Windows 7.
Me: You can DO that??
Him: Uh...yeah...
Me: *nothing*
Actually, I may have hugged him, or at least high-fived him. And added him to my Christmas card list for the rest of his life.
Long story short(er), I ordered a Windows 7 computer, all my programs loaded, all our backup files restored, and I am not ashamed to say I actually cried a little with joy when I saw all of them again last night. Kind of like stepping out of a time machine and realizing you're actually home. Land!!
Huge cleansing sigh.
So, the good news is: I bought us a couple more years before we have to revert back to the above paragraph where I get to freak out about losing our customer info AGAIN. Only then it will be like 15 years' worth of data...*starts to hyperventilate*
Focus, please.
In the meantime, I missed reading blogs and commenting on them, because typing comments or blog posts on an Android screen is like a special kind of punishment, so, YAY I'M BACK.
I can't even TELL you how glad I am to see my familiar old work screens again. I'm thinking I should buy about 4 more of these computers to cover me until I retire...
P.S. Anyone looking for a really boring job building a whole new database and then transferring about 5 billion history notes into it, one by one, in about 3 years, please raise your hand.
What the actual heck? I feel like I just got back from the stone age. Or time traveled back to a time where businesses were run with a pencil and note pad. Maybe even carbon copies. Because oh.my.gosh, our computer died.
died
I can't--even-- just, whaaaat.
Well. It was like 10,000 years old. I'm pretty sure the Windows 7 screen was in hieroglyphs.
So. I just spent a WEEK without access to our bank account, except through my phone screen (thank God for Android!!). A week with no access to our over 4,000 customer names and histories and info, except to sit and stare at the zip drive which I SO WISELY zipped off our dying old computer before it completely gave up the ghost.
 |
| Noooooo |
| Nothing worked beyond this screen |
And we have 12 years' worth of notes. For over 4,000 customers...multiplied by the speed of light and the centrifugal force of x/pi + a divided by one really frustrated business owner, equals....
aaiiiieeeeeeeee *faints*
So naturally I have been moderately to severely freaking out for the past 6 months, while our old laptop limped along and randomly sometimes just refused to start (at ALL).
Knowing this was coming, I (see above) WISELY zipped everysinglefile off the old computer during its last attempt to live, onto a new zipdrive, so we didn't lose anything. So, other than completely (and I mean really) freaking out that we might be losing our notes as described above, we were safe.
Being relatively sure that 12 years of my carefully recorded notes were lost to us forever, but not our actual customer list, I dragged my bereft self into Best Buy last week to the sound of a mournful dirge, and asked the Best Buy Geek what to do.
He looked at me like, DUH, and said, "Just buy another Windows 7 computer."
* O__O *
Me: What?
Him: Yeah. Just go online and order another computer with Windows 7.
Me: You can DO that??
Him: Uh...yeah...
Me: *nothing*
Actually, I may have hugged him, or at least high-fived him. And added him to my Christmas card list for the rest of his life.
Long story short(er), I ordered a Windows 7 computer, all my programs loaded, all our backup files restored, and I am not ashamed to say I actually cried a little with joy when I saw all of them again last night. Kind of like stepping out of a time machine and realizing you're actually home. Land!!
Huge cleansing sigh.
So, the good news is: I bought us a couple more years before we have to revert back to the above paragraph where I get to freak out about losing our customer info AGAIN. Only then it will be like 15 years' worth of data...*starts to hyperventilate*
Focus, please.
In the meantime, I missed reading blogs and commenting on them, because typing comments or blog posts on an Android screen is like a special kind of punishment, so, YAY I'M BACK.
I can't even TELL you how glad I am to see my familiar old work screens again. I'm thinking I should buy about 4 more of these computers to cover me until I retire...
P.S. Anyone looking for a really boring job building a whole new database and then transferring about 5 billion history notes into it, one by one, in about 3 years, please raise your hand.
 |
| My new favorite picture IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD EVER |
Thursday, May 1, 2014
That OTHER Time I Was Almost Famous, When "Cupcake Wars" Called...
As most of you know, I spent about 12 years baking wedding cakes, dealing with awkward cake requests and even odder customers, built a bakery that almost took over my life, taught me to multitask like nobody's business, got to work with Gordon Ramsey/become almost famous, then closed it and came home to actually live my life...
So, now you know...the rest of the story. (And if you get that reference -- *high five*)
Ever have one of those Fork in the Road phone calls? Ever have a chance to epically fail on cable TV?
But there was one phone call that I took, back in the summer of 2009 or 2010 (can't remember), that could have changed everything. Who knows if it would have been good or bad?
I remember it was hot out, and I was wrestling a 50-pound bag of cake flour out of my car in front of the bakery, when my business phone rang, with an out-of-state phone number. Not one to miss a phone call, because--hello, that's just the kind of phone service I provide, OK?--I balanced the flour on my hip with my right arm, jammed my cell phone between my ear and my shoulder, threw my purse over my other shoulder, reached up to close the back hatch on my car with my free hand, and tried to sound like I wasn't standing in 95-degree heat holding 50 pounds of flour with one arm.
Me: Hello, this is Stefanie, how can I help you? (almost shut the trunk, but not quite, so they can't hear the *click*)
Caller: Hi, Stefanie! This is Cameron. From FOOD NETWORK. How are you today?
Me: Hi, Cameron! I'm great, how are you? (like he calls me all the time...)
Cameron from FOOD NETWORK: Good, thanks. Hey, I'm calling to see if you've heard of a new show we have on Food Network, called Cupcake Wars, and invite you to be a contestant!
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| YOU COULD BE FAMOUS! or fail horribly on cable TV...but either way--YAY! TV! |
Me: Oh. Um...I love Food Network, but I don't actually *have* TV, so...
Cameron: You don't have TV? (people always say this like you just told them you live in a van down by the river).
Me: (my arm is starting to shake a bit, because I'm standing in the street holding 50 POUNDS OF FLOUR). Yeah, but I've always enjoyed when I get a chance to watch cake challenge shows. What's your show about?
(He seems disappointed that a baker of my obvious stature in the cake world hasn't heard of his little program. I feel just a little bit superior, but I try not to crush his enthusiasm, because I'm nice like that.)
Cameron: Well, we call bakers, like yourself, from around the country, and you come and compete for a chance to win $10,000. The winner has to fully design and construct a display, based on a theme, then bake and decorate a million cupcakes in 2 hours, for a big event that will be a surprise. The event will be something really important, like the Oscars or the Grammys or the Space Shuttle Landing or something.
(Also, I think the quantity of cupcakes was actually 1,000. But if you work alone, one thousand cupcakes might as well be one million, trust me).
I'm thinking, first of all--why ME? I'm a WEDDING CAKE shop, not a cupcake shop. And at that time, Lord knows, they were popping up everywhere. You couldn't swing a dead cat without hitting a new cupcake shop owner in a pastel apron. "Best cupcakes in TOWN, I promise!"
Me: Oh. Wow. You know that I'm not a cupcake shop, right? It's just...me...by myself...and I do wedding cakes. How'd you pick...me?
Cameron: We found you online, and we LOVE your work. If you win, or even if you just compete, you get to be ON TV, and you could win $10,000! Your bakery will have a chance to be a household name. (I'm thinking...yeah...as in "Remember that baker who EPICALLY FAILED on that cupcake show?) If you're interested, you'd need to be free for 3-5 weeks to come stay in L.A., bring all your own tools, and pick an assistant to bring with you. We provide two helpers for you to build the final display that you'd need to design, and your assistant can help with everything else.
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| He must have seen THIS on my website. It was pretty cool. But still...not my forte |
I'm thinking, "Assistant?" bwahaha. Oh Cameron. Dear boy. If I had an assistant, do you think I'd be working 16 hours a day and standing here in the sun holding 50 POUNDS OF FLOUR ON MY HIP?
Me: Umm, well, it sounds pretty cool, but--aside from the fact that I don't have any assistant to bring, and I can't afford to leave my work and my family here and travel to L.A., and I don't actually make cupcakes...I also have a full wedding cake schedule through that month. So...
Cameron: Great! You can email me for details. Here's my address. Do you have a pen?
Me: Oh. Well, actually, I'm standing here in the street, holding 50 POUNDS OF FLOUR right now. Can you just email me a link?
Cameron: Sure. I will email you the audition application right now. Hope to hear from you soon.
And we hung up, with him somehow still convinced that I'd want to drop everything and jet off to L.A. with my non-existent assistant, to make one million 1,000 cupcakes, on cable TV.
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| Another of my large cupcake deliveries. I remember being so worried about how wobbly this stand was! |
Long story short(er), I did go ahead and fill out the application and send it in, but I rebelliously refused to make an introduction audition video and send it, possibly because I was busy working on 5 weddings that weekend and had no time. I did look up the show and saw some of the other auditioning bakers, and sure enough, they were all big cupcake bakeries from big cities, where baking 1,000 cupcakes was what they do every day before breakfast. I'd never made more than like 200-300 cupcakes at one time, and I thought THOSE were a challenge...
Why didn't someone call me to do one of THOSE?
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| Like THIS? See? Two to three of these PER SEASON doesn't really qualify me. |
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| THIS was more my thing. I LOVED hand painting these beautiful feathers |
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| Or THIS--ivory with appliques, which looked so pretty at this particular venue |
I wasn't really interested in getting famous (or infamous) in the cupcake world at the time, so I wasn't sorry that I didn't pursue this offer.
Plus, I talked to some friends in the cake industry who'd done these challenges, and they said that, not only were the competitions so stressful that you absolutely want to kill yourself before you're done, they throw in drama (because what reality show is complete without it?), and expenses (like, you pay your own way and your ingredients are *not* free, or something), so that by the time it's over, if you didn't win (or throw yourself on a cake knife), sure--you were ON TV--but you're also BROKE AND STRESSED OUT BEYOND BELIEF. One went so far as to say, "Seriously? If you win, that $10,000 prize will just cover what it cost you to be there."
I also heard that, to make it interesting, they would randomly throw in a fun Secret Ingredients for the bakers to deal with. I heard the words..."salmon" and "beef jerky" bantered around, in the same sentence as "cupcakes".
What the..HECK? Beef jerky?? Are you even kidding me?!? So, even if I'd had a) the money or b) the patience or c) an assistant, I'd have still totally been that baker who got on TV and had them say, "Today's secret ingredient is...beef jerky", and I'd have untied my apron and been like, "I'm out." I'd have voted myself off the show.
Plus, I'd have had no idea how to build a theme-related cupcake display to hold one million 1,000 cupcakes and reflect the Oscars or the Superbowl or whatever, and then try to tell two L.A. guys in flannel shirts how to built what I want. I pictured them standing there, toolbelts ready, and me staring at a blank "sketch" paper, going, "Ummm..." while the clocking is ticking, tick tock ticktockticktockTICKTOCK YOU ARE RUNNING OUT OF TIME ON CABLE TV, AND THE WHOLE WORLD WILL REMEMBER YOU FOR THIS.
One of my other friends was like, "Stef. Maybe that's why they called you. So you could be *that* one. You know...the one who everyone remembers because they told the judges to bite off, or gets cut from the first episode because they forgot the baking soda in the cake batter and then punched their assistant in the face?"
Ah...HAH.
Oh, yeah, Cameron. I'm on to you, baby.
Obviously, I didn't hear from them again. But, I didn't really expect to...
I know--it's been four years, but I finally Googled the show and saw some of the displays for the first time ever: (source for photos below = Google Images. Not sure it matters, but I'm sure someone would say it does)
 |
| Hmmm... |
| Ahhh... |
 |
| What? See? There's no way I'd have been able to design THAT-- |
So, now you know...the rest of the story. (And if you get that reference -- *high five*)
Ever have one of those Fork in the Road phone calls? Ever have a chance to epically fail on cable TV?
Wednesday, March 26, 2014
Spring Cleaning and Leftover Cake. How Do I Recycle THESE?
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| THIS is still sitting in our spare room, on top of the sewing cabinet and some really important puzzle pieces. What the heck? |
Not that I will do those things, but I did sweep today, and I considered putting the screens back on our windows, but...they never got pulled off last fall, because we like to open our windows all winter due to the fact that we have a wood stove, which means it can easily be 80-82 degrees in the living room, but if you open the windows without the screens on them, the cats will totally get out and be eaten by coyotes.
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| Louis is super worried about coyotes... |
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| So is Sam...Relax, little buddies. I left the screens ON. |
I'm also totally procrastinating getting outSIDE right now, where I have more work in the garden than a whole team of men named Renato could accomplish, waiting for me. It's not like one less day will matter...and I'll be happy with anything I accomplish out there this year, because at this point anything will be an improvement. Our front yard effortlessly gives off the casual appearance of: "Someone Might Live Here..."
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| Yes. This USED to be a nice perennial bed. With edging. |
The grey one was custom-designed for a vignette I put together with some awesome wedding vendors at a bridal event. The blue one went in a national cake magazine edition that was published the month after I closed the doors, which was surreal. The poppies were my first attempt at hand-painting a cake. And, the white and gold one at the beginning of this post, which I created for a Valentine's photo shoot at a local venue...I can't BEAR to throw away those flowers that I made!!
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| The last three survivors, sitting in the middle of our living room upstairs on an air hockey table while I painted the whole room around them. Now...where to PUT them??? |
I threw out the rest of the cakes on display when we closed the shop, and Lord help me, that was HARD, you guys. You can't believe the cake art that went in the dumpster. But these. I can't seem to toss them.
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| Five of these went in the trash, including the one I made for Gordon Ramsey... |
What do you think? Bite my lip and put them in the dumpster? Disassemble them and use them for dummies later--in case I ever get inspired to want to decorate again or need something to do? Give them to a wedding planner to rent out? Keep dusting AROUND them?
I know I should toss them, but *sigh*. All that work...
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| See what I mean? I can't throw these away. |
.jpg) |
| Maybe I could pull them out and put them in a vase... |
.jpg) |
| Or start an Etsy shop! Yeah... no. |
I'm leaning toward putting the flowers in a vase and tossing the rest in the trash, but why is it so HARD?
Ever find yourself hanging onto stuff that has no place in your life (or your house), but is too awesome to throw away?
Wednesday, January 15, 2014
That Time I Worked with Gordon Ramsey and was Almost Famous
A Truly Long Story, (but a long true story, too).
Back when I was at what I will call the zenith of my cake decorator fame, a lovely business acquaintance contacted me to see if I'd be interested in working on a reality TV show with "a very famous celebrity". She couldn't give details, other than it was someone very famous, with a very famous TV show, and it would involve a wedding. They were looking for our area's best for wedding vendors, and she wanted me on the team (of course).
Back when I was at what I will call the zenith of my cake decorator fame, a lovely business acquaintance contacted me to see if I'd be interested in working on a reality TV show with "a very famous celebrity". She couldn't give details, other than it was someone very famous, with a very famous TV show, and it would involve a wedding. They were looking for our area's best for wedding vendors, and she wanted me on the team (of course).
After staring into space for a whole 10 seconds, wisely considering the pros and cons and out-of-pocket expense against any possible benefit, and mentally erasing everything from my calendar for the future, I very calmly said, "OMG YES!! COUNT ME IN! I AM SO IN!"
I had visions of myself shooting to wedding cake super stardom, working with David Tutera to make My Fair Wedding brides' dreams come true, with my beautiful and stylish bakery being known far and wide because I took this step into worldwide recognition. I couldn't imagine who else could be filming a wedding reality show in our town. It had to be David, right? Here was my chance to Get My Name Out There, for real.
Screeeeeeeeeeech.
That is the sound Fantasy makes when it crashes into Reality.
Without any idea who I was signing up to work with or what might be required, I signed on and waited on pins and needles for details of my new adventure. Then she called me and told me Who the celebrity was. It was NOT David Tutera.
She was like, "Stef, it's Gordon Ramsey."
Wait--what?
Did you say...Gordon Ramsey? That guy who is one of TV's most famous chefs. One of the world's harshest food critics. Gordon who is also best known for cussing out cooks on his shows. Do you mean THAT Gordon Ramsey?? I never even watched any of his shows, back when we had TV, because just the trailers for his shows were scary and full of him shouting obscenities at quavering kitchen staff. Shows with names like Hotel Hell, Kitchen Nightmares, Hell's Kitchen, Welcome to Hell in the Kitchen. I think that last one is made up...
I had an instant panic attack. Because, hello--I'm a baker. If it's a reality show about a wedding, and I'm making the wedding cake, is this a set up? Am I the one who gets chewed out on live TV? Ohhh dear, what have I signed up for?
She was like, "Stef, it's Gordon Ramsey."
Wait--what?
Did you say...Gordon Ramsey? That guy who is one of TV's most famous chefs. One of the world's harshest food critics. Gordon who is also best known for cussing out cooks on his shows. Do you mean THAT Gordon Ramsey?? I never even watched any of his shows, back when we had TV, because just the trailers for his shows were scary and full of him shouting obscenities at quavering kitchen staff. Shows with names like Hotel Hell, Kitchen Nightmares, Hell's Kitchen, Welcome to Hell in the Kitchen. I think that last one is made up...
I had an instant panic attack. Because, hello--I'm a baker. If it's a reality show about a wedding, and I'm making the wedding cake, is this a set up? Am I the one who gets chewed out on live TV? Ohhh dear, what have I signed up for?
She was like, "No really. It'll be fine. Our job is to come in at the end of the reality show and magically make everything come together with a perfect wedding.". Well, that's a relief. No pressure. I just need to make a perfect wedding cake for TV's harshest food critic currently alive on the planet.
I was starting to sweat a bit, but I decided that I didn't care WHAT his name was, if they were thinking of pulling any reality TV make-the-baker-cry crap with me, they had another thing coming. He's just a guy, and I don't take that kind of nonsense from anyone...I don't care HOW famous they are.
I was told that at any time over the next 2-week period, TV producers *could* show up unannounced and possibly want to film. At my shop. I freaked out and started cleaning like a maniac and dressing up to go to work. Full makeup. Clean apron every hour. I made the building managers refresh the front of the building my shop was in...clean walkways, fresh mulch, etc. I held my breath and tried to carry on like nothing was out of the ordinary, except for constantly wiping every surface spotless while trying to produce wedding cakes.
Nerve-wracking!
Of course, they didn't decide to knock on my door. Which was kind of a let-down, after all the cleaning, wiping, mirror-checking, and flossing I constantly did for 2 weeks...
So. The idea was that basically I needed to design a wedding cake for a bride and groom using the theme of the wedding ("bling"), some of the bride's input, but basically...my favorite thing...full creative license. So, that was no problem. I sketched pages and and pages of cake designs until I settled on the exact cake that I would want to create, which would combine all these things, look great under bright lights, AND be a stunning example of my work in this, my one shot at having one of my cakes shown on worldwide TV. I loved the design I came up with, and since only the bottom tier of it needed to be edible cake for them to cut on the episode, the rest could be Styrofoam dummies. My favorite kind of cake to decorate--easy to work with, easy to transport, and creative license. Yeah, baby. No problem.
That part accomplished, I was thinking...this will be fine. Except for the part that I'm making cake for freaking Gordon Ramsey! He's going to EAT my cake!!! aieeeeeeeee Ok, calm DOWN!!
Then the producers sent a small monkey wrench on over.
My coordinator friend emailed, saying that they would actually need not one, but TWO different cakes for this episode. One would be for the actual wedding (and yes, the couple really did get married, and they were truly the sweetest kids, and thrilled to be getting a dream wedding). The other cake would be for a quick "reveal" shot that would be filmed earlier in the episode, but it needed to be something else. Not the actual final cake. I was like, "...something else like what?"
She sent me this:
"They want to know if you can make this."
Ummmm, WHAT?
They wanted a croquembouche tower like the one at the left (light blue base), above. I studied these in horrified awe. I know what croquembouche are, but I'd never seen one placed on top of a cake. What the actual heck? Even if done well...those are not, uh, pretty. And no on in Idaho is going to order one...ever.
Without blinking an eye, I immediately answered breezily that yes, I could totally make that, and how big did they want it? Like I do these all the time. (I'd never even made cream puffs, let alone a tower of them held together on top of a cake, wrapped in perfect strands of spun sugar!). Yep--no problem-o. Inside...more sweating and hyperventilating.
Omg. omg, omg Omg OMG OMG OMG OMGOMG.
Crap. What have I got myself into??
I'd already said yes, and there was no way I was going to do this and fail, on TV, in front of Gordon Ramsey, so I took a deep breath and started researching croquembouche online. I trawled Food Network's website, Master Chef's website, recipe.com, CakeCentral.com, and blogs devoted to nothing but croquembouche. I visited websites in Europe that specialize in this European dessert.
The instructions I read were not encouraging, to put it mildly.
1. First and foremost--Do NOT attempt to make croquembouche when it's humid. The caramel will soften and not hold the tower together, and it will collapse. (Check. Collapses if raining.)
2. Do NOT store croquembouche at room temp. The cream filling is perishable and MUST be refrigerated. (Check. Keeping it on the counter will kill people, possibly Gordon Ramsey).
3. Do NOT refrigerate croquembouche after assembled, as the humidity in the fridge will ruin the caramel spun sugar, and it will collapse. (Check, keeping it in the fridge will ruin it. Wait--what?)
4. Croquembouche should be assembled on site, as close to serving time as possible. (Check. So, I need to build this thing, for the first time, in front of Gordon-freaking-Ramsey. Possibly on live TV. What could possibly be stressful about THIS?)
I sent a quick email over to the coordinator, asking her, were they SURE that they want croquembouche, and if so...were they planning to serve it? Or could it be a mock-up made of basically empty cream puffs held together with Gorilla Glue? That, I could handle. She wrote back and said that yes, the producers wanted it to be real, filled with pastry cream, and that yes, they would be eating it. I read that as "Gordon Ramsey will be personally eating these cream puffs, so they better be the best cream puffs ever made anywhere on the planet." Yay, more STRESS.
I wrote back, "No problem" and sat down and tried not to have a stroke. It was February in northern Idaho, and it was raining almost nonstop. Hello--humidity 100%!?
I calmly gathered my facts:
I calmly gathered my facts:
1. I have to learn to make perfect French cream puffs and vanilla pastry cream filling, assemble them, wrap them in spun sugar, transport this tower to the film location, IN THE RAIN, and have it hold together. For Gordon Ramsey.
2. I can NOT assemble this in front of Gordon Ramsey and a camera crew or I will pass out.
3. I can NOT make it ahead and keep it in the fridge.
4. OMG I'm making cream puffs for Gordon Ramseeeeeheeheeheeeheee---wheeeeeze
Then: Oh no. Maybe this is the point of the show! Maybe it's about watching a baker try to do the impossible and then have Gordon cuss me out when it collapses, which it MUST. On TV.
One of my strengths is that I work well under pressure, so I set about learning how to make perfect cream puffs. I made batch after batch of them, every day, for about a week. I made fresh vanilla bean pastry cream filling for every one of them and filled them. I made sure they were perfectly filled, perfectly formed, and perfectly delicious. My family was heartily sick of cream puffs. I was giving them away at our school, giving them to anyone who would take them. I even donated some to our school auction.
Then, I focused on learning to assemble a croquembouche, which is a tower of about 75-100 cream puffs, stacked and held together with 240-degree caramel syrup, with no support from inside the tower, and then wrapped in a wispy veil of delicate, infinitesimally small, breakable strands of spun sugar. I would have to drive this thing, assembled, for about 10 minutes in the rain from my shop to the film location, so I made a small practice tower of unfilled puffs. Here it is, the practice croque:
I carried this around in a box in my car for about 5 days. I hit bumps. I hit railroad tracks. I took corners too fast. It snowed. It rained. I checked the box, and that thing was FINE. I'm golden.
With a HUGE sigh of relief, I had convinced myself that, yes, this can be transported in the rain, and it will not collapse. In front of Gordon Ramsey.
Next I baked and decorated the bottom support cake that would hold my croquembouche. This also had to be "real", because (so I heard), they would also be eating this one too. (Yay, more stress!)
The finished base cake, 10" of purple velvet deliciousness
My next task was to figure out how to assemble a whole perfect croquembouche, as close to the 7 a.m. delivery time on the filming date as possible, but NOT have to put it in the fridge. My only option was to make about 150 cream puffs and all the pastry cream filling the night before, and then get up really really early and go to the shop and assemble a perfect croquembouche for Gordon Ramsey, complete with spun sugar, box it up, and be ready to leave with it at 7 a.m. I allowed all the time I would need to fill each puff, boil the caramel to the right temperature, burn myself several times, assemble the tower, and wrap it in spun sugar. I realized I needed to get up at about 2:15 a.m. to make it work. So I set my alarm, ironed my chef's coats--and made it work.
The final tower
Unfortunately, I can't show you a picture of the final tower assembled on the cake above, on set. Due to the highly secretive nature of reality TV security and all, we had the super-strictest orders that if we so much as showed up on set with a phone anywhere on our body, even for emergencies, even if it's in your pocket and it's turned off, they would throw us off the set and possibly close down the production and move out of town and sue us for eleventy million dollars. Got it. No phones.
So I would have to wait til months afterwards, after the show aired, to see my creation. But even on the disc of a zillion photos that I did score from the Fox TV producers, not one of the photos included the finished croquembouche. So we'll have to just imagine it, I guess, based on this lovely sketch I sent them when we were negotiating the fact that there would even BE a croque:
Imagine this. Only real, and with Gordon Ramsey nearby and/or eating it.
Meanwhile, I had also simultaneously baked a 12" bottom round cake for what became the 4-tiered wedding cake for the real wedding part of the episode. It was nearly finished when I left that morning with the croquembouche, and I raced back between takes to finish touching it up with lots of iridescent powder, so it would sparkle under the cameras. I loved how it turned out.
Some close-ups of the bling-y details, courtesy of Fox TV photographers:
The final cake that was on TV in September 2012
On the day of filming, I arrived with the croquembouche for the 7:30 setup of the "reveal" shot for the episode. Basically the vendors involved had to come in and set up the entire reception for a quick sneak peak on film. Then we had to come back in at like 11 a.m. and remove all of it, down to the last flower petal, and set up a complete wedding ceremony in the same room. Inside of a 45-minute time window. THEN, we had to come back in at like 3:30 and flip the whole thing back into (tah-dah) the reception again. The whole time, we were literally tripping on camera crews and photographers, so we're all dressed in our logo-showing best, fully prepared to see ourselves on TV someday.
Oh my gosh, this is my Big Break, riiiight? Not exactly. Because, hello--editing. They got like 9 hours of footage for a 1-hour show, so naturally, we didn't end up with any actual camera time. Surprise.
Oh my gosh, this is my Big Break, riiiight? Not exactly. Because, hello--editing. They got like 9 hours of footage for a 1-hour show, so naturally, we didn't end up with any actual camera time. Surprise.
When I came in after the "reveal" shot had been filmed, to remove whatever might be left of the cream puff tower and the cake under it, I found...the whole entire thing, still sitting there. Untouched. Gordon Ramsey had not, in fact, eaten my cream puffs. In fact, no one had. The cake wasn't touched, either, so now I was standing there holding 50 servings of purple velvet cake and about 80 cream puffs in the rain, wondering what the heck am I supposed to do with this? and simultaneously...Whaaattt? Are you kidding me right now? Do you have any idea what I went through to make this?!?
But since questions silently asked receive only silence for answers, I made an executive decision. I boxed the perfect, untouched base cake back up and handed it to the couple who were on site as the DJ team for the reception, who had 5 kids, who I knew would appreciate a delicious sugar rush. Then I walked into the set crew's tent, where they were all shivering around a space heater in the solid drizzling 37-degree weather, and set the perfect croquembouche on the folding table in front of them.
"Here. This is for you."
But since questions silently asked receive only silence for answers, I made an executive decision. I boxed the perfect, untouched base cake back up and handed it to the couple who were on site as the DJ team for the reception, who had 5 kids, who I knew would appreciate a delicious sugar rush. Then I walked into the set crew's tent, where they were all shivering around a space heater in the solid drizzling 37-degree weather, and set the perfect croquembouche on the folding table in front of them.
"Here. This is for you."
They were afraid to touch it. "What? It's too pretty. I couldn't. I don't want to ruin it." So I sort of violently ripped off the top cream puff and bit an angry bite out of it, then tore off another one and handed it to him. "EAT IT." Intimidated by my chef's coat, no doubt, and the fact that he might be talking to the next Big Thing in cake decorators, and you need to "keep the talent happy", the guy took a bite. They were heavenly, by the way. Gordon...you missed out, baby. By the end of the night, most of it was gone. I can only hope that maybe he stopped in and actually ate one, since I spent weeks agonizing over making them for him.
The whole rest of that day was a blur of standing in the cold, in the rain, and in the dark. At one point, I did actually see The Man himself...from across a parking lot, getting out of his trailer. But I was too far away to casually yell "Hi, Gordon!" so I just stood there and hoped that my glaring white chef's coat might give me away as the creative genius behind the reception centerpiece, etc etc. He must have been super busy, because he did not pop over to shake my hand or take any selfies. I had vainly imagined having a framed photo of me and Gordon on the wall of my bakery--you know--arm around my shoulder, grinning and making a "thumbs up" sign at the camera, me in my chef's coat, looking professional and glad not to get cussed at...
Yeah...no. That so did not happen. No glossy 8 x 10 for you.
What did happen is we all showed up at 11 p.m. to clean up the reception room after the filming was over. I dressed up again in a sparkling white chef's coat with my logo on it, full hair and makeup. Just in case, you know, maybe he's going to POP IN after we all spent 2 weeks of our lives, countless dollars of our own money, put our families completely on hold, went without our phones for a whole day, and maybe, just maybe he will come in and give us a thumbs up, like, "Hey, you guys are awesome! Thanks for a great job." We waited in vain, and I found out later that he'd been on a plane out of Spokane at like 8 p.m.
Can you say...anticlimax? Well, at least I didn't fail and get cursed at on TV.
Looking back, I can't say it was truly fun, because at the time it was all so stressful (and costly, and completely uncompensated, except for a CD full of photos, none of which included ANYone famous. Thanks, FoxTV). Our episode airing date was rescheduled from April to May to September, but it was a blast to watch, and I got to see my cake right there on actual TV, for a whole 30 seconds.
Basically none of the lovely, talented, hard-working wedding vendors who gave 110% for that production were given any mention or footage (even in the credits, though we were listed on the website).
As for my long-awaited croquembouche scene--the camera panned the room once, and the croque was hidden behind a floral arrangement and wasn't visible, so honestly that whole cream puff adventure HADN'T MATTERED AT ALL. I could have saved myself going through all that stress.
I can honestly say that I had to agree with my husband afterwards. Signing up for a reality show featuring one of my cakes, which could be my Big Break...was about the most costly, time-consuming, stressful, and least effective method advertising that I ever did in 12 years. He's always right. But I will always remember that day in the rain with that great group of dedicated wedding vendors. We all deserve a huge shout out for the effort we put into making that day come off perfectly.
Oh wait...we DID get permission to use this on our websites:
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Well. It's something, right?
There is one great thing I learned (aside from the fact that I will never be famous). I know how to make truly fantastic cream puffs.
P.S. To Gordon's credit, all the vendors who did get to interact with him, said he was delightful to work with, super professional and polite, and very sweet, off camera.
Has anyone else ever been surprised by something that was soooo not your Big Break? Ever spend agonizing amounts of uncompensated time on something that turned out to be *not* worth it?
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