The WinCo cake - not very interesting (as Rob would say)

For my parents' 40th Anniversary party, my mom had ordered a special cake. The day of the party, my dad and I went to pick it up at WinCo, a warehouse-type grocery outlet. When we arrived, there was no cake for us at the bakery. Party in two hours, no good. As a replacement, I asked the woman working in the bakery to decorate one of their standard sheet cakes with some simple words such as "Happy 40th Anniversary." She told me that they had a 48-hour advance notice requirement for cake decoration. To be fair, I think she may have thought I was requesting more decorating thatn just the words. Arggh...I explained very carefully that we HAD given them 48 hours' notice...we had in fact given them a WEEK'S notice...but since they hadn't had the notion to actually MAKE the cake, we were in a position of needing one on shorter notice. She agreed to have someone write the words on the cake and we waited while that was done. I should have been much nicer. No excuse, but that 48-hour notice thing really got me. Sort of a retail Twilight Zone moment.

Back at home: Explain the fiasco to my sister-in-law. Finish with, "That's the last time we order a cake from Winco!!!" Puzzled look from sis-in-law. "W-Winco?" she asks, expression changing from bewilderment to amused horror. "Your mom said the cake is at COSTCO!"

Oh, dear. Well, that would explain why WinCo hadn't miraculously had a Happy 40th Anniversary cake just sitting around in case we stopped in. Augh -- painfully remember my explanation of the "week's notice" concept through gritted teeth, irritation not hidden, to the poor bakery lady. Go to Costco to pick up Cake #2. Upon return, recount cake story to my mother. Mom feels very bad about how I've treated the bakery lady. Poor bakery lady, not at fault in any way, victim to our collective stupidity/lack of communication, and my rudeness to boot.

Mom insists that I call the bakery lady to apologize. OK, OK, I will, I say. Half-hour later, Mom asks if I've called yet. No. Mom dials phone and hands to me. Wonderful thing happens: I apologize profusely and explain the mix-up. Tell her that regardless of any sort of mix-up, I should never have been rude and am very sorry. She is unendingly gracious, accepts my apology, thanks ME profusly for calling back, and warm fuzzy feelings zing back and forth across the phone lines. We wish each other a great day and a happy life, and hang up somehow feeling like best of friends. The good feelings we have in connection with this incident are such a nice contrast to the not-so-good feelings we had before that I sense we are both actually sort of glad it happened, and that our faith in our fellow human is somehow restored or something.



Moral of the story: Never force your mother to order her own anniversary cake.