PuppyWithATutu Sat Dec 10, 2016 11:37 am
Vera stared across the counter at the third difficult customer that day, this time a thirty-something lady who was dumbfounded that Vera had given herself free reign with some spelling adjustments on the going-away cake she'd decorated.
"You deliberately changed what I wrote on the note," the woman argued, phone in hand, a baby in the other. "What gives you the right?"
Vera's customer service smile wavered momentarily. "You're is a contraction, ma'am. Your is possessive. You're wishing your coworker "all the best in you are future endeavors."
The woman bristled. "You're insinuating I don't know how to spell? You put bows on cakes and overprice them and now you've got an English degree I don't know about?"
Vera swallowed. "Well... yes."
That did it. Vera may have come across as snobbish, but she wasn't about to tarnish the reputation of Baker's Dozen, the bakery she and her cousin Natalie had worked so hard to get on the map, with silly grammatical mistakes. That wouldn't placate the woman across from her, though.
"Redo the cake, Vera." She turned to find Natalie herself strolling in, tossing her bag behind the counter. "If she wants to look like an ass at the retirement party, let her."
As quickly as the lady had come in yelling, she left, her perfectly spelled cake in hand. The bell above the door jingled as she strode out, and Vera looked toward her favorite cousin with a grin. "I had two people today ask me if our donuts contain sugar, and now this. Thanks for that."
Nat grinned and gave her a pat on the shoulder. "Any time, boo."
While Nat busied herself with putting her things away, Vera looked down at her phone in boredom. Her sister Hannah was away for vacation, having taken the husband and the kids for a short vacation at Cedar Point. She missed having her here. Quickly, she went to the saved notes on her phone and copied off one of the many funny jokes she'd looked up and reserved for moments such as these. Stupid puns were kind of their thing, and the worse they were, the better.
Without much thought, she pasted a recent favorite and hit send.
My sister bet that I couldn’t build a car out of spaghetti. You should’ve seen her face when I drove pasta.
A little too late, she realized that the last text exchange she'd had was with some guy named Luke, and it was to Luke that the joke was delivered.
Snorting to herself, she saw the last one he had sent. Word for word, she replicated it and sent it on its way.
Fuck, sorry whoever this is.