I was sitting behind the register when I heard a far-off cry, “THEY HAVE SMOOTHIES!” Chittering tweens formed in front of our food truck. I turned to Andy, who's building burritos, “Fruit station, now! I need 40 ‘nanners!” I plugged in the smoothie machine. “Divert power from Food Prep. We are ‘Go’ for Smoothies.” Andy grabbed a few bananas and flipped a few switches inside the truck's breaker box. The line of hungry children extended into the horizon. I gripped the machine with both hands. And I prayed to it.
Bananas. Yogurt. Frozen Strawberries. Squeeze of lemon. The machine had a deafening whirr. Andy and I worked together like Henry Ford intended – mindlessly productive. For two hours, we sold one smoothie every 36 seconds. Wearied but not weakened, we emerged with victory in our hearts and yogurt in our hair.
I learned two things that day. I work best when I’m in the trenches, getting my hands dirty, alongside my teammates. And the horns on a giraffe's head are called ossicones. I mean, the smoothie thing wasn’t my whole day. I did other stuff.