“We’re not putting in you in charge of making anything, of course,” Emily explained. “You’re just going to be helping out back here. A tall, thin man entered and nodded at me.
“This is Claude,” said Emily. “He’s one of our bakers. He’ll keep you right. Izzy should be working this shift with you, but she’s late again. I’ll be on the counter if you need me.” She gave me another smile and left me alone with the thoroughly humourless-looking Claude.
“Now,” said Claude, as Emily left, “Rules. This is not a snack bar, d’you hear? People often want to take away snacks, but we have rules. You can only eat what we can’t sell – stuff that’s going to go stale, cakes that have collapsed, stuff like that. No snacking off the workbenches, no licking the bowls. It’s not hygienic. Got it?” I nodded. This didn’t seem like it was going to be much fun.
Claude got me putting cream into some éclairs, which was fairly dull, until Izzy arrived. As she entered I looked up. Izzy was…
Copyright 2000 - 2024 21 x 20 Media All rights reserved. This site is property of 21 x 20 Media
All Writing.Com images are copyrighted and may not be copied / modified in any way. All other brand names & trademarks are owned by their respective companies.
Generated in 0.13 seconds at 8:04am on Dec 23, 2024 via server WEBX1.
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
More by this author