Sparkling Clean!

 My name is Nicole. I am known to be the neat freak in my family. I guess you could say I’m the OC of the Terrier Bakery. Making things sparkle and knowing that my surroundings are clean gives me a feeling of great satisfaction.  The running water over my hands feels warm and refreshing; the dish soap creates a bubbly mess inside the pan. I then produce more bubbly suds over the bowls and utensils. They look as if they are polished from the bubbles when the warm water runs over them. Then the Clorox takes over, renewing the sink as if it was new. Clorox fights the war against all the harmful bacteria that likes to fester and grow on specific surfaces. Clorox provides a clean shiny surface.  In the meantime, oxygen is giving bowls a little time to relax and relieve their exhilarating shower. After the Clorox has finished up the final touches, the bowls and utensils are then ready to go back home. Glistening like new, equipped for the next batch of cinnamon rolls.

Bakery Baller; First Edition

     Nine A.M., Thursday morning: my annoying Android Rooster alarm blares me awake. I sluggishly roll over, thank the Man upstairs, and grab my phone. “It's Thursday...,” I say to myself, “time to do what I do best.”

     After a quick shower, I scour through my drawers, trying to find my least wrinkled shirt and jean combo. I gear up, preparing myself to fight my arch-nemesis, Midday Hunger, in the city of Hiram. I don my identity: a blue baseball cap embroidered with “Terrier Bakery” above its bill. I protect the appetites of weary college students, vigilantly watching for any possible blood sugar dips and serving justice to the distribution of artisan goods.

                                                          I am The Bakery Baller.

Social Psycho

Hiram College is like a town with round bales of hay rolling past. During the weekdays it’s full of classes and homework. Weekends though, now that’s another Story! Most free time is spent with friends or on the internet. The internet has to be the best invention to mankind. It connects you to friends and celebrities where could you go wrong? The internet is how I, Pratelle, get the word out about the Terrier Bakery. I tweet and send out Facebook statuses, to let people know when the Terrier Bakery is open, and what days as well. I love my role in the terrier bakery because I get to do what I love to do but also help get the word out about the bakery. Social networks and blogs have become something like my life. I have a twitter with over six thousands followers, over one thousands followers on facebook, over one thousand followers on instagram, and over four hundred followers on tumblr. Social networks are kind of a place that I go to express myself and vent. Everyone has their way of expressing themselves. How Do you express yourself?!

Muffin wizards

An overcrowded classroom is filled with weary students, black bags under their eyes. They have more than likely just rolled out of bed to make it to this early class, likely not showering to make it. (Which would explain that weird smell in the air.)

           

The wonderful teacher at the front of the class, so perky and alert, is ready to teach.

            

But, the students are half-asleep—me most of all. I watch my drool drip down onto the table. To run this bakery, my team and I work hard. I am a part of the Marketing Team, which means that I update our Facebook page and take picures of our delectable food. I’m in advertisement.  My team and I have to hang flyers in all the dorms and scour the campus for places where the students might see them. My teammate is constantly updating Twitter—telling the campus where we are, when and what we are selling.

           

The two other teams and mine fight for spacing in this over-crowded classroom, vigorously working to make this a success. Ideas being thrown from the left, from the right, trying to discuss the overall plan. I’m thinking too hard; between the writing assignments and articles I have to read, planning can be overwhelming. I might pass out with so little food in my stomach. Tired and hungry, I stare at the dining hall. I catch John staring at the dining hall out of the corner of my eye. It seems to be conveniently located right across the way, just for us to see.

           

Before that though, we must wait for the class to be over. And, even before that, we must get our job done. I want to make the whole campus aware of the Terrier Bakery. 

Perspective Change

I had a scurrying mouse’s view of my mother’s freshly baked dessert.  Her scrumptious Chocolate Crinkle cookies, covered in a white snow, were my first guilty pleasure.  Standing on my tippy toes, I desperately wanted a taste of my mother’s freshly baked cookies.  I was a fingertip away as I felt a pair of eyes focus on me.  When a white flash blinded my vision of this forbidden treat, I hopped away from the counter.   Trembling, I slowly turned towards my mother, expecting to receive a scolding. Holding a camera in her hand, she pulled me aside saying, “Make room for the bar stool, Cookie Monster!”  Pleased to see her smiling, I knew she was ready to capture me saying “Cheese!”  I climbed up onto the bar stool, now with a bird’s eye view of those delicious delights and a big smile on my face.

            I had a similar trembling feeling as I strolled into the Terrier Bakery for the first time.  I never imagined that one day I would be working in a bakery.  I had a stomach full of butterflies, like a girl during her first day at a new school. I knew that making cookies would not be like an afternoon in mom’s kitchen.  It would be a meticulous, busy and collaborative endeavor, but I was ready to charge the mountain.  I was placed in charge of helping to prepare buckets of cookie dough, followed by hours of baking and delivering the finished products. Despite my initial trepidation regarding the work and time commitment, it has been a very rewarding experience.  The bakery has become its own separate classroom; teaching you how to run a business; manage your time; improvise; and properly bake cookies.  Despite all of the work, I still enjoy my, Emily Gilmore’s, bird’s eye view.

Perfectionism Personified

I am Miracle, and if I was to be terribly arrogant, I would say that I am the Bakery’s own miracle, but this feigned audacity is a mere facet of my personality, of myself, of who I truly am. 
Who am I? 
I am the quiet hums of Berlioz as I make my way to yet another meeting, another interview, another obligation to dress professionally. I am pencil skirts and corporate pants and candy red patent leather pumps. I am the attempt to sound eloquent. Sometimes I am successful. 
Who am I? 
I am the nervous jitters somewhere deep and dark and private, the fear of failure that is heavily drilled into so many, and I am the nervous tic in the first room, in the waiting room. I am the right leg that ceaselessly bounces. I am the nails bitten down to nothing. 
Who am I? 
I am the make-believe clichéd “glue that holds it together”, and I am note pads of indecipherable secretary-style comments, and I am the bullet points of feedback to the instructor. I am corrected spelling and properly placed punctuation. I am both the overflowing schedule and the intense determination to get it done. 
I am perfectionism personified.

A Reminder of My Childhood

Hi there! My name is Rachel Buchleitner, I’m a freshman here at Hiram College and I help run the Terrier Bakery. I remember being young and being in my grandmother’s kitchen, hearing the scratching of a whisk against a metal bowl or the clanging of silverware being thrown into the sink. Those sounds have always reminded me of my childhood at home. As I hear these familiar sounds again in our very own bakery all I can feel is a sense of nostalgia. I hear the deafening roar of the mixers combining ingredients and the water running, cleaning the pans, bowls, measuring cups and spoons that had just been used. I smell the fresh scent of dough expanding and forming a crispy encasing for itself in the oven. I see ingredients and dishes and products flying around in this fast paced environment. I feel the heat of the oven rush into my face as I go to snatch a tray of cinnamon rolls from its interior. I taste the succulent mistakes that pop up around the kitchen every so often. I have walked back into my childhood when I cross the threshold of this kingdom. I walk into this kingdom and I’m home.