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Smug

Upon finding out that my old manager had begged my current manager for me to come back, I thought my situation with my former cake decorating position had come full circle by biting my former manager in the ass. It should have been the end of it, but the Billie Mays of life went “But wait! There’s more!”

I didn’t think there could possibly be any more to this until about last week when I noticed my old manager’s position was listed on the open positions board outside of the HR office. I eventually found out that he had demoted himself after he threw a tantrum when he was pulled into the office.

This week, I was cashiering when one of the other managers tells me I have to go to bakery to help out with cake decorating. I had vowed never to go over there again, but cashiering was starting to overwhelm me off with the influx of customers prepping for Thanksgiving and hunting weekend so instead of complaining, I sighed, “Fine. You owe me.”

When I got to bakery, there was a half sheet cake on the counter with a piece missing. I didn’t get the entire story, but from what I could gather the customer was told we could do funfetti cake—a flavor we never had to my knowledge—and was pissed to find white instead. Though from the looks of the cake, I initially thought the problem was due to it being decorated sloppily. For such a simple cake, it had so many things wrong with it: the beaded border was uneven, the balloons were not piped smoothly, and the shaky handwriting was uneven and written over the balloon strings. I was originally informed there was another cake I had to redo, but then was told that one didn’t need to redone. I asked, “You sure this one doesn’t need to be redone?” It sounded like I was asking for confirmation that I didn’t need to do it when actually I was referring to how poorly decorated it was—the main issue being that it was obvious to me that the cake decorator spread wet frosting on the backs of the poorly cut out edible images and then slapped them onto a cake with slightly dried out frosting instead of the proper way of putting them on the cake immediately after frosting it while the buttercream was still fully wet.

Setting up was a nightmare. Most of the frosting wasn’t dated, which was something I would have gotten my ass reamed if I did. None of the opened whipped frosting was properly sealed. At first, I could only find one cake scraper only to find later they were in the box where all the instruction cards explaining how each cake design is decorated were supposed to be. The counter space was cluttered with cake turntables and other cake decorating supplies.  What the Hell happened in the year and a half since I was booted out?

I haven’t decorated anything in almost a year, but I found that even with my rusty decorating my cake was still better than the cake decorated by someone who actually works in the department.

While I was decorating the cake, a customer came up wanting to order a cake for two days from then. I awkwardly went through the cake ordering process with a customer who changed their mind on what they wanted every few seconds and I had a ton of extra decorating notes on the order. I thought I was going to have to leave this slightly complicated order with whoever was going to be decorating the cakes the next day, but somehow I got roped into doing that as well.

And it came out so beautiful.

I must admit the whole experience made me feel pretty smug. I felt like that gorgeous cake I made was a reminder of how much my old manager fucked up when he set me up to have me thrown from my position–one last “Fuck you” to a department that severely undervalued my worth.

The next day, I was back to my regular job of cashiering when an older woman asked me if I used to do the “beautiful cupcakes”. When I confirmed I did, she turned to her friend and gushed how what an amazing cake decorator I used to be and how I made these gorgeous cupcakes for her.

“You were so good! What made you stop doing it?” she asked.

“Well…its a long story.”

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