(Congratulations to Audrey, who turned 16 today. This one’s for you kid.)
As in:
From the French-style desk phone in her tower suite at Rockefeller plaza, the priestess of cupcakes made her late afternoon calls around the empire that, by now, extended even into Somalia and the wilds of Uzbekistan. To be sure, the demands had mounted because the success of the venture had exceeded her wildest dreams. But that’s what happens when you have the nerve to call cupcakes a scrumptious health food, and then deliver the goods with heavenly combinations of exotic flavors, grains and sweeteners. The concept, the business plan, the execution. It all made Starbucks look like a mom & pop that had lost its beans and scurried back to Bellevue.
The best part was the fan mail, including the one from the shepherd in Mongolia who trekked forty miles to collect his second taste of the banana-mocha-cinnamon with the large grain tapioca filling and the counter-intuitive mango/tomatillo icing.
Her last call was to her regional manager in Spokane.
“Look Vicky,” she said, doing her hilarious impersonation of Meryl Streep in “The Devil Wears Prada,” “I don’t care if my little brother spills it on his shirt or drinks it with three tiny straws, the rule is he always gets a free mocha with his cupcakes. No questions, no quarrels, no limit on the refills. Understood?
No comments yet.