John went in to East Coast Custard by himself while I sat outside with our dog. He came out with a milkshake. â€œI got something different,â€ he said proudly. I thought he was joking, assuming he ordered what he always orders, a jamocha shake. â€œNo, itâ€™s not jamocha,â€ he said. â€œItâ€™s raspberry truffle!â€
His cup had not a hint of pink, so I didnâ€™t believe him.
â€œNo, itâ€™s not raspberry,â€ he admitted. â€œBut itâ€™s really a vanilla malt!â€ He said this as though incredulous at his own daring.
As he began sipping, he pulled something from the bottom with his straw. â€œWhatâ€™s that?â€ he said. â€œA pecan? Why would there be a pecan in a vanilla malt?â€
There wouldnâ€™t, I said. â€œThen why is it in there?â€ he said. I said maybe it got in by mistake.
Soon he found another pecan. â€œWhat if this is really butter pecan?â€ he said. â€œWhy would they do that?â€
â€œCanâ€™t you tell?â€ I asked. â€œDoes it taste like butter pecan or a vanilla malt?â€
He took another sip and thought for a second. â€œI canâ€™t tell,â€ he said.
I suggested he go back in the shop and say there had been a mistake.
He responded that the young clerk wasnâ€™t very friendly. â€œMaybe sheâ€™s trying to burn her bridges with every customer and get fired,â€ he surmised.
Or maybe someone made a mistake, I said, or you picked up the wrong order.
John kept sipping, every now and then making a face. We drove home, and when we got out of the car, he showed me the smattering of chopped pecans at the bottom of the cup, as though to prove his point.
â€œYou didnâ€™t have any trouble finishing the whole thing,â€ I said.
â€œIt was hard,â€ he said. â€œI had to force it down.â€ Then he offered me the cup. â€œYou want these pecans?â€
Â â€œThey have a new motto,â€ John said. â€œâ€˜Donâ€™t have it your way. Have it our way.’â€
That there are so many responses to this post must mean something! But what? Anyway, last time I went to ECC I left my wallet there. The staff fished around inside it and found an old raggedy slip of paper marked “cell numbers” which I had put in my wallet in ancient times before smart phones and their storage of contact info because I could never remember my own and a few other cell phone numbers. The ECC staff started dialing and eventually reached me before I even realized I didn’t have my wallet. I didn’t get any pecans.
Tommy’s didn’t have butter pecan, so I had to settle for peanut butter, but I still think that there’s a butter pecan in my future.
And if it had been Roy he would have gotten butter pecan as he does every single time he orders ice cream.
I read this aloud to Evan. We both laughed, and he said, “Sounds like something I would to avoid complaining.”
I’m drooling. It’s the middle of the night and I don’t drive or I’d be ordering something right now. Guess I’ll have to wait for breakfast at Tommy’s.
The test of a good business: When they say, “have it our way,” I say, “yes, please.” I know one or two like that. 😉
This piece reminds me of some of Dad’s writing!