I ran into a local kosher bakery to pick up a birthday cake for my son.
The display was lined with cakes. I pointed to one. The woman behind the counter asked what name to put on top. “Eliyahu,” I said.
A few minutes later the box came back out, angled just enough to check the name. Then the lid closed.
I smiled.
The name was perfect.
The color wasn’t.
The job isn’t cake.
It’s knowing who you’re serving.
Everything can be right- and still be wrong for the customer.
