The War on Chocolate Ice Cream

A woman walked into the shop with her son, the bell on the door tinkling merrily as they entered.

"Welcome to Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe.  What kind of ice cream would you like today?" I asked brightly.

"Excuse me?" was her icy response.

"Welcome to Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe.  What kind..."

"I heard you perfectly clearly," she interrupted. "I simply couldn't believe that you are one of those 'politically correct' stores."

"I'm sorry, ma'am.  Politically correct?" I asked, puzzled.

"That 'what type of ice cream' nonsense.  Of course we want chocolate.  This is a chocolate ice cream country.  The majority of people living here want chocolate ice cream.  Why would your store perpetuate the war on chocolate ice cream?" she demanded.

"War on chocolate ice cream?"

"Absolutely.  This has always been a chocolate ice cream eating country. Why are we trying to change now?  Just offer us chocolate ice cream, without any rigamarole."

"But," I was completely confused, "my last customer ordered vanilla ice cream."

"Well, of course," she stated, speaking to me as if I were her young son, "There's always been the vanilla ice cream people.  I have a neighbor who prefers vanilla.  She's no trouble.  She doesn't get offended when someone offers her chocolate ice cream.  She politely declines."

"Um, well," I was still flustered. "But last week I had someone who wanted straw--"

"How dare you!" she hissed, covering her son's ears. "Just because Obama is a strawberry ice cream lover, that doesn't mean that we have to allow strawberry ice cream lovers in OUR town.  We don't want their kind here."

"I'm not sure that it matters what ice cream Obama..."

Her son squirmed out of her grip.

"Of course it matters," she stated angrily.  "The next thing you know, he'll be allowing strawberry ice cream loving refugees into our schools.  I don't want that kind of influence around Timmy.  I don't know what's worse.  The strawberries or the frozen yogurt group.  They don't even believe in ice cream.  Can you imagine?  If they have their way, we won't even be allowed to eat chocolate ice cream in our own homes!"

"I don't think anyone is trying to--"

"Of course they are!  Don't be so naive!  I'll be taking my business elsewhere.  Mark my words," she shook her finger in my face, "if you don't wise up and put the chocolate back in ice cream, you won't stay in business long!  Come along, Timmy."

She grabbed Timmy's hand and as they marched out of the shop, Timmy turned around and stuck his tongue out at me in a very un-chocolate ice cream loving manner.

I sighed and began wiping down the counter.  My next customer was a middle age business man carrying a briefcase.

""Welcome to Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe.  What kind of ice cream would you like today?"  I asked, possibly not as brightly as before.

"I'd like a scoop of chocolate on a cone, please," he requested.

"Coming right up."

I handed him his cone, and rang him up.  He paid, and placed his change in the tip jar.

"Enjoy your ice cream," I called out, as he left.

"Thank you," he called back, with a wave.

I was in the back, stocking shelves, when the bell tinkled again.  I came out to the counter to see a young mother with her daughter. The daughter was looking at the selection through the window of the cooler.

"Welcome to Ye Olde Ice Cream Shoppe.  What kind of ice cream would you like today?" I said, smiling at the little girl.  She waved at me shyly, then tugged on her mother's hand.

"Mommy, I can't decide what I want. I like chocolate AND vanilla!"

The mother looked at me warily.  I surreptitiously held up two fingers, my expression questioning.  The mother's face immediately relaxed into a grateful smile and she nodded.

I leaned down to talk to the little girl.  "How about a double scoop with both?"

She nodded eagerly, but then her face fell.  "I really like cones, but I'm a slow ice cream eater, so I guess I should get it in a bowl, so it doesn't melt and drip on me."

"How about this?" I suggested. "I'll put both scoops and the cone in a bowl for you."

"You can do that?" she asked, wide-eyed.

"Of course!  There's no rules to ice cream eating.  You can enjoy what you want, in whatever way works best for you!"

The little girl looked at her mother, who was nodding and smiling.

I made up her order, and she and her mom went and sat at a table to enjoy her treat.

"Thanks for the ice cream," the little girl said, as they left the store.

"Have a great day!" I waved as they left.

Happy holidays, and enjoy your holidays (and your ice cream) in whatever way works best for you!