The day started pleasantly enough. I did all the usual mundane things: made coffee, fed the pets, put on my latest audible book and drove to work.
That was when it all went haywire. And it was for one reason only: I volunteered.
This is a true story. Here’s how it all went down.
Donut Mission Impossible
There’s truth in the old adage “No good deed goes unpunished.” Doing good deeds actually invites punishment. In fact 81% of scientists have studied this, and 94% agree that you’re 79.5% more likely to have a traffic accident or other mishap while on the way to, or while involved in, a do-good volunteer activity than you are on 95% of your other endeavors. And from my personal experience they are 99% correct.
And yet I’m a chronic volunteer. I can’t not do it. I’m like an open invitation to the punish-the-volunteers gods. “Guys! Here I am volunteering again! Bring it on!”
I had volunteered to bring donuts to a work event. We have a really awesome independent donut shop near our office. It’s a total donut wonderland. You can get maple glazed cinnamon rolls, maple bacon long johns, fried cinnamon rolls, donuts topped with gummy worms, chocolate filled chocolate donuts, cookies and cream donuts, s’mores donuts…. Wait, what were we talking about?
The important thing was that it was for a certain group at a certain company work site. The Person-in-the-know loved the idea, and said he was going to organize a whole Donut Reception thing for the People to help them deal with some News about the “C word” (change).
But I needed a head count. So I emailed the Person-in-the-know for that pertinent detail. You don’t want to bring 100 donuts when there are 25 people. Neither do you want to bring 50 donuts for 200. Getting a head count was key, and I really had no idea what sort of numbers we were talking.
The Person-in-the-know is a very busy person. He finally got back to me at approximately 2-late-o’clock. But the jungle drums of disaster had not started thrumming yet. At this point I was blissfully unaware of the string of mishaps to come.
The Person-in-the-know told me we would need 12-dozen donuts to accommodate the People, and they would have to arrive at approximately oh-dark-thirty the next morning.
Donut Purchasing Attempt #1
So I called Donut Wonderland (name changed to protect the guilty) to place my order.
I got voice their mail. “Thank you for calling Donut Wonderland. If you are calling during business hours, we are either busy or don’t feel like answering… blah blah blah… we have taken all the orders we can take for National Donut Day… blah blah blah….” Seriously, the message went on for an agonizing four minutes, ending with “please leave a message and we’ll try our best to get back to you within 72 hours.”
My order had nothing to do with National Donut Day. It was for a doomed do-good mission on a completely different day — the very next day, to be exact. And I was now acutely aware that I was on a short timeline. Swallowing my slight irritation at having to listen to a four-minute message, only to learn that they weren’t likely to get back to me in this actual decade, I hung up.
I waited a few minutes and called back, hoping I would get a real person. Nope.
“Thank you for calling Donut Wonderland… If you are calling….”
It was 3:30 in the afternoon. How busy can it be at a donut shop? I got in my car and drove over there. It wasn’t busy at all. I blinked pleasantly at the college student in a way that was intended to say “Why don’t you answer your phone?”
I’m not sure if she understood my meaningful look. She smiled pleasantly back.
“I’d like to place an order for 12 dozen donuts, please. For tomorrow morning. I’ve been trying to call, but I just keep getting a voicemail, which is the approximate length of War and Peace on Audible, as read by Leo Tolstoy. From the grave.”
“Sure! What would you like?”
I spent the next five minutes carefully choosing an assortment of donuts. She wrote it all down. I was feeling good about my mission.
Then she said, “Just one moment.” She disappeared into the back where minutes before a man in a white uniform had taken a rolling rack of donut trays. She returned with an unsmiling sort of smile. That was when I first heard the jungle drums.
“I’m sorry. I spoke with the baker. We can’t take any additional orders today.”
“What? But….”
“I’m sorry.”
Donut Purchasing Attempt #2
My mind began racing. Where else in the Twin Cities can you get 12 dozen donuts on short notice? We don’t have many donut shops here. Krispy Kreme is gone and for some bizarre reason Dunkin Donuts was banned from Minnesota in the Prohibition era. No one knows why. If we want Dunkin Donuts, we have to catch a plane to Chicago, where they have them on every street corner.
Fortunately, flights to Chicago are cheap and you can grab one on short notice. Yes, I considered it. No, I didn’t do it, but only because I knew I couldn’t fit 144 donuts in a carry-on.
At that point I remembered that all major grocery stores around here stock at least a few donuts. Perhaps if I drove around to all the grocery stores I knew of, I could assemble 144 day-old crullers by the next morning.
Then it occurred to me I could possibly call one of the stores and place an order. Maybe one of the big chain stores could handle an order for 12 dozen donuts.
I was now running a Donut Reconnaissance Mission out of my car. I called the number that popped up in my phone for my local Favorite Grocery Chain.
That was when the next Bad Thing happened. My call didn’t go through. Instead I received one of those automated operator messages saying that number is no longer in service. This was ridiculous, because I had been in that store the previous day. It was definitely in business.
I tried again. Same thing. I gave up.
Donut Purchasing Attempt #3
Next, I called another store from that same Favorite Grocery Chain. It was just a little further away.
I felt sure my luck was changing at this point. Not only did they answer, but they put me through to the bakery line immediately, and someone picked right up. Yes!
My elation over this mini-success was short-lived.
Unfortunately, although the baker was very kind, her first language was not English, and we had a bit of a communication barrier. I asked her if it was still possible to place a large donut order for the following morning. She clearly did not understand my question, because she said “You want to order a large donut?”
I told her I would come in to the store to talk in person where I could use hand gestures and/or diagrams.
Donut Purchasing Attempt #4
At this point I took a half of a deep cleansing breath, and by that I mean I took a very shallow breath, which did nothing for my rising stress level. I reflected on the fact that I had promised Donut Wonderland donuts, and now the best I was going to rummage up was sad, day-old crystallized sugar bombs.
As I began driving to the store (picture Eeyore the sad donkey behind the wheel), I called the admin at work. She was a genius at ordering treats and immediately had ideas for me. She got me connected with a local restaurant that serves specialty desserts, such as gourmet cookies, slices of chocolate layer cake, and designer cupcakes.
I called the restaurant, which I shall call “Yummy Inc.” The very kind and accommodating baker said they would be happy to put together an order for 144 such treats, at an average cost of $3.50 each. I did the math. If I went this route, my good deed was going to cost me over $500.
“Okay, no. But thank you.”
Donut Purchasing Attempt #5
I suddenly remembered hearing murmurings circulating around the rumor mill that one day Dunkin Donuts would be returning to the Twin Cities. Perhaps now that Prohibition has been over for 80 years, it would actually happen.
In the off chance that the rumors were true, I did a search for Dunkin Donuts in the Twin Cities, and voila! We actually now have a Dunkin Donuts in Minnesota, and to my surprise, the store was only 30 minutes away, as the crow flies.
I called and someone picked right up. “Dunkin Donuts. May I help you?”
I’m pretty sure I spoke while simultaneously holding my breath. “Is it too late to order 12 dozen donuts for tomorrow morning?”
“Sure, no problem. I just need to put you on hold for a minute.”
It was like an oasis in the desert! Was it merely a mirage?
Moments passed. Then eons. A full 20 minutes later, I realized she was never coming back. I hung up and tried again. Their pleasantly succinct voicemail said they could not take orders over the phone, but that I could leave a voicemail and get a call back.
This adventure was officially surreal. I contemplated what would be involved in baking and decorating 12 dozen donuts myself. I had actually worked at a Dunkin Donuts back in college. I knew things.
I also contemplated driving the 30 minutes to the store to place the order. But it was now rush hour, which meant the 30 minutes would be more like 45, and then I’d have to drive back. An hour and a half just to place a donut order? And then I’d have to repeat the process over rush hour first thing the next morning.
I tried calling again every 10 minutes until the person I had originally spoken with answered the phone again, apologized profusely over the forever-hold situation with the explanation that they were slammed, and took my order. “That will be ready for you by 7:30 tomorrow morning. Thank you! See you then!”
Okay, that was weird.
Do you ever have things suddenly go too well? I looked at the phone number I had dialed to make sure it was actually a Minnesota number, and checked Google maps to make sure the store really existed in a Minnesota zip code. All looked good. My order was in. It had only taken me two hours to make it happen.
The volume of the jungle drums fell to a dull thudding, like far-off thunder.
Donut Purchasing Attempt #6
The next morning, it was time to pick up the actual order. I left early, uncertain how long it would take me to travel to the rather remote destination in rush hour traffic.
It took longer than expected, but I was still doing okay. I stood in a rather long line before I got to the front to pick up my donut order. The clerk confirmed that it was ready for pickup (hallelujah!) and gave me the total. I reached into my purse for my wallet.
It wasn’t there.
I dug down, because… what the??
It really wasn’t there. I had no way to pay for the donuts.
I looked rather pleadingly at the clerk and asked if I could possibly take the donuts now, but call in with my credit card number later. Even as I asked this question, I realized it was ridiculous. I knew the answer, and no one in their right mind would expect any other outcome.
The clerk said no, of course. She was very pleasant about it, but quite firm in her answer. There was a long line behind me, and I’m pretty sure I heard the gnashing of teeth. The clerk asked if I could kindly step out of line while I figured things out.
That’s when I thought of my husband, the person who has gotten me out of countless jams, has the patience of a saint, and is almost always available. I called him as I again shuffled from the back of the line to the front. He was in the middle of a doctor’s appointment with one of the kids. “Can I call you back in about 15 minutes?”
I quickly explained that I was having a bit of a donut emergency? And in 15 minutes it would be too late? “I just need your credit card number, expiration date, security code… and possibly your social security number and a notarized affidavit. Please. I need to buy 144 donuts right this minute, and I seem to have left my wallet at home.”
You wouldn’t think it was possible to hear someone rolling their eyes. But it turns out you can.
The clerk allowed me to enter the information into a little POS system. It took me two tries, not to mention the trying of my husband’s patience, and the clerk’s. Also, a newly formed line of people behind me were violently gnashing their teeth. But at last it was done.
I walked out to the car with my bags of boxes of donuts and began the 45 minute drive to work. Unbelievably, I was only 15 minutes late.
Thank you to @diebitch for the nomination to participate in Comedy Open Mic again. Her mention of donuts in her COM entry, Mother Out-Laws – Murderous Intent, reminded me of this bizarre recent donut adventure, and that I had fully intended to write it up. I’m mostly a fiction writer, but now and again I get the call to write a COM post, and I can’t resist. Thanks for reading.
Oh, and if you’re wondering why I chose to use the “D-O-N-U-T” spelling, vs. “D-O-U-G-H-N-U-T,” the answer is “because.” You can read a Time magazine article about this delicious debate, if you wish.
I nominate @negativer and @preparedwombat for upcoming Comedy Open Mic posts.
