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TEGAN “BABY” JOSEPHINE INGRAM
THE INTERVIEW
It was a balmy day with a slightly overcast tint to the ominous-looking sky. It might rain, or it might snow if the temperature dropped just a little more. When I left the house this morning, I threw on a cropped leather jacket with my ripped jeans. A pair of thigh-high leather boots would ensure that I would not get cold, but my yellow and pink, body-hugging, short-sleeved couture blouse would ensure that I would not get too hot.
The sound of table saws and circular saws ripped the air and created harmonious music in my soul. Others might have found the sound disconcerting, but not me. It was music to my ears and the sound of progress and accomplishment. The aromatic scent of sawdust blended with the fragrance of my Jimmy Choo perfume nicely.
I smiled at the dark-skinned man with the chiseled features and sharp gray eyes that saw everything and missed nothing. He ran a hand over his bald head again, and I had noticed it was a nervous habit that he held.
“Sorry about that.” I apologized when the saws got a little bit too loud and drowned out my voice. I was a soft-spoken woman, and it was easy to miss the words that I said on a good day, let alone with loud noises all around. Because my gentle spirit and harmonious nature drew people in, I never felt the need to shout or be loud.
“It’s okay.”
“I thought about holding interviews at the coffee shop down the block, but I preferred to have them here so that my applicants could get a feel of my vibe. It also allows me to see how you fit into the environment, even though it is still under construction.”
He smiled and bobbed his head. “I like that. Harmony.”
“Exactly. So, Javar,why did you pursue baking?”
“It has always been my first love, and it was the way I connected with my father. He was a professional baker, and you would think that he would get tired of it on the weekends or after work.” He chuckled and shook his head with a nostalgic look in his eyes before he finished. “He never did. He used it as his way to forge a connection with his kids, especially at the holidays. My siblings do it during the holidays, but I do it always to stay connected with him.”
My heart filled with compassion and sympathy. “If you don’t mind me asking, is he deceased?”
“No, but as I stated before, I’ve been in prison for the last two years, and it was my way of remaining connected with him when I couldn’t physically be with him. It’s our expression of love and communication with each other without words.”
My heart squeezed just a tiny bit as I smiled back at him. His words touched my heart, because I understood the meaning of connection through baking. For me, it was my paternal grandmother, Cindy.
“I love that for you, and yes, I did see your record when your background check came through.”
“Yet, you still gave me the honor of an interview.”
“You’re gifted, and your résumé speaks for itself, Javar. I’m creating something different at Baby Got Buns, so I don’t move the way the world says I should move. What goes into producing an even bake?” I asked, moving forward with the interview.
I listened to his responses vaguely, but I was more focused on the energy between us. I had worked with a world-renowned chef before, stood in the kitchen elbow deep with some award-winning pastry chefs and bakers. The magic didn’t happen by skill and résumé alone; it was about the connection and chemistry of the staff.
My experience with my last job made me vow never to work with a team of people that I didn’t vibe with. Some skills could be taught, but connection and respect could never be faked, and chemistry couldn’t be performed. It either was, or it wasn’t, and there were no two ways about it.
“Do you have any experience with gluten-free or vegan diets?” I asked, glancing at the list of questions I had lazily scribbled on a napkin. I knew that it would be a relaxed interview process, but I knew that I still had to have some questions to ask pertaining to the job.
He answered that question just as my best friend, Palmer, stepped through the door, looking so cute in her baby-blue velour Gucci jogging suit. She’d paired it with a pair of high-heeled boots, and the outfit highlighted her curves. Her naturally curly hair had been pulled up into a high ponytail, and her hazelnut-brown face was beat. She was so beautiful.
I held up a finger to let her know that I would be with her soon, and she moved on to flirt with a construction worker, as was her habit. Within five minutes, I wrapped up my interview with Javar.
When I stood to shake his hand, he smiled politely at me, but I saw the resignation in his eyes. He struggled not to shut off and disconnect from me, and I knew that it was because of his record. The man had become accustomed to rejection, and I was not about to add to that list. I really liked him, and we got along well.
I didn’t grow up in the hood, but my father had, and I wasn’t a stranger to the struggles that it brought. He often told stories of my uncles, some cousins, and other family friends who had spent time in prison and the impact it had on their lives afterward.
I smiled at Javar and shook his hand heartily. “Thank you for interviewing with me, Javar. Welcome to Baby Got Buns.”
“I’m sorry? I don’t understand.” He shook his head in confusion.
“You, sir, are my newest baker and my first official hire; that’s if you want the job.”
His eyebrows rose in comical fashion, his jaw dropped, and a smile broke out on his face. For the first time since the entire interview, I saw his shoulders visibly relax, and I felt the vibrant energy that I sensed underneath his humble demeanor, come through in waves.
“Are you serious, Ms. Tegan?”
