This cake takes me back.
One of my favourite pre-career jobs was working at a coffee shop in a kind of transitional area of downtown Vancouver. Not quite nice, not quite terrible. Our customers were a mix of vagrants, office workers, people who were just sort of around, and bands in town for shows. I was your typical barista, young and full of ennui, and rattled off customer's orders while counting down the hours to post-work drinks or my resentment of the skytrain ride home to the 'burbs. Youth.
Coffee shops here are painfully and pleasantly common, but our chain crafted uniquely fantastic hot chocolates, made with real chocolate blended into steamed milk. They came in three flavours: dark, milk or white chocolate.
Inevitably, every time a hot chocolate was ordered, it went down something like this:
"So, do you want that to be dark, milk, or white chocolate?"
"Oh, uh, dark milk."
"That's not a thing."
"Dark milk. There's a comma. It's either/or"
"Oh, dark then, I guess."
I could have reworded it, sure, but this small, constant misunderstanding brought me a lot of joy. I like to think it snapped people out of autopilot and made them listen a little closer. This is probably not true.
If I could time travel, I'd go back to those moments. I could groundhog day that job.
So, let's reminisce together: How do you want your cake?
Dark, milk, white, please and thank you. Layered and blended into an orchestra of cocoa.