Or, because nothing can be normal at the pastry shop

Well, folks, let me take a break from my uplifting and potentially (or not) encouraging and hopeful tales of missions prep to vent a little bit.

Many of y’all have heard my fabulous and endearing tales of the pastry shop. Of the petty and strange goings ons. Of the tall tales, the bickering, the backbiting, and the lack of “thinking it through”. And then, the all out, just “crazy”.

For those of you who don’t know, who haven’t heard, that’s what it’s like where I work, making pastry, sometimes, but mostly just human resources management. We seem to get all kinds of people there. People with lots of personal drama, people who bring their drama into the shop.

But then, then there are the people for whom, to whom, you can’t even think of a reasonable response. There are times, when “dumbfounded” doesn’t even begin to describe a response. The only questions I am often left asking myself are, “Am I taking crazy pills? I feel like I’m taking crazy pills!” or “Am I on crack? Are you on crack?”

Today was a good one, I have to say. We have been getting busier at the shop and we’ve recently hired several new people. Actually, all women, but not by design. We hired two swell ones, who are working out great. But the third, M, who started yesterday, I have to say that I have reservations about. She’s older than our usual hires, but that doesn’t have to mean anything. The problem is that she is slow. S-L-O-W. She moves slowly, is easily distracted, and seems to need a lot of instruction. Very nice, but it’s frustrating to have to hustle, knowing that she can’t, and will in fact probably slow everyone else down.

So today, M got locked in the fridge.

The only problem is, the fridge doesn’t lock.

To get out, all you have to do is push on the door. There isn’t even a latch or a handle on the inside. Because you don’t need one.

And she got locked in.

I’m standing at the table near the fridge, and M takes something into the fridge. I watch her go in, and then I hear a knock. I look around, thinking “did I hear something?” I wait, looking around, seeing if anyone else heard. And then I hear it again, and I begin to panic. Because now, I’m thinking she’s slipped and fallen in the fridge, and knocking for help. So I run over, and open the door. And there she is, three inches from my face, looking for the way out of the fridge, saying that she couldn’t find the latch to get out. It took everything in me not to lose it right there.

Crazy pills.

In other news, thanks for all y’all’s prayers. Newest request: I had a scratchy throat last night. Please pray that I don’t get sick, and that I stay healthy on my trip! Thanks, everyone, and Bless y’all!