Selling Ice Cream
Things are looking up since my depressing return to England: I've got a job selling ice cream. I work alone in a small metal and glass box which reaches 35°. My only companion is the ice cream machine, a surly individual which expresses itself only in numbers and often goes to sleep at inappropriate times. So long as the number is over 50, the ice cream will be stiff enough to stay on the cone. This creates a delay as the machine reluctantly climbs from the low thirties towards what is no know by the local children as The Magic Number.
The delay causes controversy. Some people have actually suggested that I wait on purpose in order to build up a queue and increase ice cream sales. It's ice cream. It's the summer. I'm surrounded by children. I don't need to artificially boost my turnover by delaying the production of each ice cream. In fact, my sole aim is to complete each transaction as quickly as possible so that I can go back to my book. So resisting the temptation to confirm that yes, I am holding up the queue on purpose as part of the Global Zionist Conspiracy, I politely inform people that I have to wait for the number to reach 50. This often provokes the mindless question, "Oh, is that the temperature?" Yes sir, that's correct. Once the ice cream has reached 50° it's half way to boiling and therefore ready to serve. Any colder than that and you wouldn't be able to eat it. Evidently the number represents some measure of pressure, but my inability to give a precise definition allows my customers to wander smugly away, suspecting that it is temperature and the ice cream salesman is a fool.
The other mind-numbing conversation I am forced to repeat each day concerns the price of the ice cream. £1.50 is considered outrageous by some people. One lady sarcastically requested "One of your '99s that isn't 99p." When was the last time you paid 99p for an ice cream? 1999? That was 9 years ago! And besides, nowhere on the ice cream kiosk does the number '99' appear. It just says 'ice cream, £1.50'. If you think that's too much to pay, just don't buy one. I didn't set the price, I'm not responsible for the recession, and it's not my fault if your four-year-old screams if he doesn't get what he wants.
All in all it's not a bad job. It actually is, in part, about the smiles on the children's faces. And unlike my last paid job it doesn't require me to ruin anybody's life. The only ethical dilemma it presents is whether the child who just dropped their ice cream on the floor can have another one, and I solved that one on the first day. Of course they can.
The delay causes controversy. Some people have actually suggested that I wait on purpose in order to build up a queue and increase ice cream sales. It's ice cream. It's the summer. I'm surrounded by children. I don't need to artificially boost my turnover by delaying the production of each ice cream. In fact, my sole aim is to complete each transaction as quickly as possible so that I can go back to my book. So resisting the temptation to confirm that yes, I am holding up the queue on purpose as part of the Global Zionist Conspiracy, I politely inform people that I have to wait for the number to reach 50. This often provokes the mindless question, "Oh, is that the temperature?" Yes sir, that's correct. Once the ice cream has reached 50° it's half way to boiling and therefore ready to serve. Any colder than that and you wouldn't be able to eat it. Evidently the number represents some measure of pressure, but my inability to give a precise definition allows my customers to wander smugly away, suspecting that it is temperature and the ice cream salesman is a fool.
The other mind-numbing conversation I am forced to repeat each day concerns the price of the ice cream. £1.50 is considered outrageous by some people. One lady sarcastically requested "One of your '99s that isn't 99p." When was the last time you paid 99p for an ice cream? 1999? That was 9 years ago! And besides, nowhere on the ice cream kiosk does the number '99' appear. It just says 'ice cream, £1.50'. If you think that's too much to pay, just don't buy one. I didn't set the price, I'm not responsible for the recession, and it's not my fault if your four-year-old screams if he doesn't get what he wants.
All in all it's not a bad job. It actually is, in part, about the smiles on the children's faces. And unlike my last paid job it doesn't require me to ruin anybody's life. The only ethical dilemma it presents is whether the child who just dropped their ice cream on the floor can have another one, and I solved that one on the first day. Of course they can.
