I'm always happy when Joe steps out from behind the table to come through the Window Over the Sink to visit. His stories are always special, and this one is even more so. Thanks for coming, Joe. Take it away. There are days I travel to neighboring cities and meet
friends in designated areas to deliver donuts. It isn't a highly lucrative
adventure for me... Well, not monetarily. I sell them for just $10 a dozen, am
out of the bakery for a couple hours, so I have to pay someone to hold down the
fort, and try to stay under 25 orders so I don't disrupt the normal routine of
my co-workers ("co-workers" is a rather generous title as far as my
inclusion in the "co" part). The real compensation comes in the form
of interactions with the wonderful people with whom I'm blessed to communicate.
Many share with me where they are taking their donuts while wearing smiles from
ear to ear.
I met a Mr. Smith, who was stationed in the same area of
Panama that I was. I met a man from Chicago who moved here decades ago for a
job. His accent is now only slightly prevalent, but completely resurfaces when
the topic touches on one of his passions...like paczkis. I've met business
owners, young parents, teachers, radio hosts, and even someone I knew in Peru
when I first arrived in Indiana. It is not only fun—I like to feel that I am
spreading good will.
My last delivery location was Pizza Quik in Rochester (one
of my favorites because, ironically, I love Dunkin and never leave their city
without gifting them a dozen donuts), and since this venue traditionally fills
up quickly, I was keeping my eyes on the number of orders coming in.
"Ding." My
phone alerted me of an incoming message. The communique was from a wonderful
lady I had met through Facebook a few months ago. Though certainly not one of
my fortes, I happened to remember her name because of its unique spelling and
the kind words she had shared with me. She wanted to place an order of 33 dozen
donuts for the Rochester delivery. She was pressed for time, and promised to
tell me more about the program she wanted to bless at a later time. The whole
time were typing, something nagged at me. Something I should remember... But
I'm old and have accepted the fact that I forget a lot of things, so paid no
further mind to it. Because this order put us well over the number of donuts I
usually deliver, I posted that Rochester had filled up, and would be taking no
more requests for donuts.
The evening before the delivery, I was doing something close
to nothing (name that tune), when... "Ding." My friend messaged me
again. I assumed she simply wanted to confirm, or maybe to share with me more
about the establishment for which she was buying donuts. Her message read,
"I think I've made a terrible mistake. Please call me." She followed
that plea with her phone number. Her phone number had an area code I didn't
recognize. When I called and heard the intonation in her voice, I immediately
remembered that thing that had been nagging me... My friend does indeed live in
Rochester... ...Rochester, New York. Our previous communication a few months
back, was about getting my books. That's how I knew she was on the east coast…and
that was that tidbit of information my old brain wasn't willing to release to
me when she requested the 33 dozen.
She felt horrible, as I tried not to laugh...I failed. After
all, I thought, what an honor to have someone from so far away follow my bakery
and all of my shenanigans! It was too late for me to get hold of the bakery to
cancel the order, as my team would already have started production. What made
this situation even easier to swallow was that my friend from Rochester, New
York, offered to pay for the entire order and told me to donate them.
"That is awfully sweet," I replied, "but what
are you going to do for donuts?"
She said they were scouring the city for donuts, and the
prices ran $20-$30 a dozen. So, she was not only willing to spend between
$660-$990 to get the donuts she needed, but she was going to pay me $330 for
donuts she would donate to people several states from her, that she didn't even
know! The donuts she was donating in New York were for a group of kids, ages
12-18, that give up their spring breaks to fix up homes in rundown areas of
their town. It's called the Flower City Work Camp, and my friend's husband has
been leading this group for 35 years. The number of volunteers has multiplied
significantly over the years. Each volunteer works eight hours, Monday through
Thursday. They eat and sleep at a parish near the neighborhood they're working.
Materials are purchased by the churches and the volunteers themselves. On
Friday, the last day of their break, the volunteers will share what they have
seen and learned. It can get very emotional.
I was so touched by the kindness of the program and everyone
involved that I was left at a loss for words...not a common occurrence for me
as you all well know. As she was asking for my address to send a check for the
donuts she had mistakenly ordered from me, I was making a request on Facebook
to anyone in the administration of Rochester (Indiana) schools. Before my New
York friend could finish her twelfth consecutive apology, I arranged to have
all 33 dozen taken to the school, where they would be distributed to all school
employees. When I told my friend, she was so happy, but still wanted to pay for
them...
"Absolutely not, Danise," I replied. As I stated
earlier, my compensation comes in the form of interactions with the wonderful
people with whom I'm blessed to communicate. I had the pleasure of
communicating with my friend from New York, I was able to feel the love from
the Rochester (Indiana) school district, and I learned about a wonderful
program in Rochester, New York, where the younger generation is giving to those
in need... I believe I've been more than compensated.