I'm always happy when Joe steps out from behind the table to come through the Window Over the Sink to visit. His stories are always special, and this one is even more so. Thanks for coming, Joe. Take it away.
There are days I travel to neighboring cities and meetfriends in designated areas to deliver donuts. It isn't a highly lucrativeadventure for me... Well, not monetarily. I sell them for just $10 a dozen, amout of the bakery for a couple hours, so I have to pay someone to hold down thefort, and try to stay under 25 orders so I don't disrupt the normal routine ofmy co-workers ("co-workers" is a rather generous title as far as myinclusion in the "co" part). The real compensation comes in the formof interactions with the wonderful people with whom I'm blessed to communicate.Many share with me where they are taking their donuts while wearing smiles fromear to ear.
I met a Mr. Smith, who was stationed in the same area ofPanama that I was. I met a man from Chicago who moved here decades ago for ajob. His accent is now only slightly prevalent, but completely resurfaces whenthe topic touches on one of his passions...like paczkis. I've met businessowners, young parents, teachers, radio hosts, and even someone I knew in Peruwhen I first arrived in Indiana. It is not only fun—I like to feel that I amspreading good will.
My last delivery location was Pizza Quik in Rochester (oneof my favorites because, ironically, I love Dunkin and never leave their citywithout gifting them a dozen donuts), and since this venue traditionally fillsup quickly, I was keeping my eyes on the number of orders coming in.
"Ding." Myphone alerted me of an incoming message. The communique was from a wonderfullady I had met through Facebook a few months ago. Though certainly not one ofmy fortes, I happened to remember her name because of its unique spelling andthe kind words she had shared with me. She wanted to place an order of 33 dozendonuts for the Rochester delivery. She was pressed for time, and promised totell me more about the program she wanted to bless at a later time. The wholetime were typing, something nagged at me. Something I should remember... ButI'm old and have accepted the fact that I forget a lot of things, so paid nofurther mind to it. Because this order put us well over the number of donuts Iusually deliver, I posted that Rochester had filled up, and would be taking nomore requests for donuts.
The evening before the delivery, I was doing something closeto nothing (name that tune), when... "Ding." My friend messaged meagain. I assumed she simply wanted to confirm, or maybe to share with me moreabout the establishment for which she was buying donuts. Her message read,"I think I've made a terrible mistake. Please call me." She followedthat plea with her phone number. Her phone number had an area code I didn'trecognize. When I called and heard the intonation in her voice, I immediatelyremembered that thing that had been nagging me... My friend does indeed live inRochester... ...Rochester, New York. Our previous communication a few monthsback, was about getting my books. That's how I knew she was on the east coast…andthat was that tidbit of information my old brain wasn't willing to release tome when she requested the 33 dozen.
She felt horrible, as I tried not to laugh...I failed. Afterall, I thought, what an honor to have someone from so far away follow my bakeryand all of my shenanigans! It was too late for me to get hold of the bakery tocancel the order, as my team would already have started production. What madethis situation even easier to swallow was that my friend from Rochester, NewYork, offered to pay for the entire order and told me to donate them.
"That is awfully sweet," I replied, "but whatare you going to do for donuts?"
She said they were scouring the city for donuts, and theprices ran $20-$30 a dozen. So, she was not only willing to spend between$660-$990 to get the donuts she needed, but she was going to pay me $330 fordonuts she would donate to people several states from her, that she didn't evenknow! The donuts she was donating in New York were for a group of kids, ages12-18, that give up their spring breaks to fix up homes in rundown areas oftheir town. It's called the Flower City Work Camp, and my friend's husband hasbeen leading this group for 35 years. The number of volunteers has multipliedsignificantly over the years. Each volunteer works eight hours, Monday throughThursday. They eat and sleep at a parish near the neighborhood they're working.Materials are purchased by the churches and the volunteers themselves. OnFriday, the last day of their break, the volunteers will share what they haveseen and learned. It can get very emotional.
I was so touched by the kindness of the program and everyoneinvolved that I was left at a loss for words...not a common occurrence for meas you all well know. As she was asking for my address to send a check for thedonuts she had mistakenly ordered from me, I was making a request on Facebookto anyone in the administration of Rochester (Indiana) schools. Before my NewYork friend could finish her twelfth consecutive apology, I arranged to haveall 33 dozen taken to the school, where they would be distributed to all schoolemployees. When I told my friend, she was so happy, but still wanted to pay forthem...
"Absolutely not, Danise," I replied. As I statedearlier, my compensation comes in the form of interactions with the wonderfulpeople with whom I'm blessed to communicate. I had the pleasure ofcommunicating with my friend from New York, I was able to feel the love fromthe Rochester (Indiana) school district, and I learned about a wonderfulprogram in Rochester, New York, where the younger generation is giving to thosein need... I believe I've been more than compensated.
