The Birth of Our Mail Order Business

Back in about 1997 we had our offices in the basement of the little corner bakery in West Roxbury. We were jammed to the gills, shoulder to shoulder with each other and with paper inventory and our motley collection of derelict desks and doors on top of file cabinets. There was a rickety curving stair way in and one window. We were totally maxed out of both gas and electric so we didn’t have any heat.  If we plugged in an electric heater the fuses would blow.  A gas heater would slow down the ovens. We wore gloves with the finger tips cut off.  There were about five of us I think. We were also out of space upstairs so my partner Suzanne (THE BAKER) would do elaborate cake decorating projects downstairs.

I had this brainy idea that we’d get some scrap carpeting and lay down a couple inches of it on the concrete floor to dry to keep the cold down. 

About the same time, just heading in to Thanksgiving, I picked up the phone and this pleasant person on the other end said “Hi, I’m David Hoffman calling from Universal Studios in Hollywood. I was lost last summer in your neighborhood and stopped in for directions.  I got the directions and bought a Gingerbread Cake. I took it to my hosts in Boston and we all thought it was the best thing we’d ever had. Back in LA I’ve been asked to do a show on the best mail order food for the holidays. It’s a national show on the Home and Family channel.  So do you do mail order?”

Originally we were just selling to the retail trade and didn’t deal directly with customers.  But people used to walk by and smell the bakery then knock on our door asking if they could buy something.  We’d have to stop what we were doing and run out. Eventually we got an old jewelry case and one of those old fashioned registers that goes “bing!” when you hit the cash key.  The bakers would stop mixing and run over and sell a cup of coffee and a slice of cake – or someone would run up from the basement. I used to ask people for their names and addresses.  This was pre email.  But I’m a data hound and thought we’d eventually make use of the list.  In fact I had sent out a couple little Xeroxed flyers.  So technically we were in the mail order business. Right?

So without a moment’s hesitation I said, “Yes.  We do mail order.”

“Terrific!  Then you just need to send us some samples that we can taste on the show next week.  Oh, and I need your 800 number. You do have an 800 number right?”

I did hesitate for a split second while I thought about how hard it might or might not be to get an 800 number. It had not yet even crossed my mind to have one.  But I thought it just couldn’t be that hard.  It was 1997.  So I said, “Yes, I was just in the process of getting one up and running. Would have the actual number the next day.”

I actually did have 888-699-DEER working by the next day. So I made an honest woman out of myself.  We shipped off the product and went back to our regular routine.

The next week the scrap carpeting arrived. We had to bring it in through the one window since the stairs were too narrow with too sharp a turn to get it down.  It was in a huge pile in the middle of the floor, which meant that you couldn’t even roll your chair back from the desk because we didn’t have that much clearance from one side to the other. I hadn’t actually done any thinking about how we’d get it rolled out. There was no place to move the desks and files to.  We started the ridiculous process of jimmying the carpet, inch by inch, under the furniture.  It was fairly impossible but we were thinking about warmth!

Then all at once all five of our lines lit up at the same instant. We looked around at each other and said, “Oh my god the Home and Family Channel!”  Each of us scrambled to a phone and started taking names and addresses. I climbed over the pile to reach my desk, straddling the carpet mountain.  We all stayed in those positions for about three hours. I was trying to get a call out to my kids to tell them I’d be late.  Every time I picked up a line a person would be there. No kidding.  It was like something out of I love Lucy (which I grew up on by the way).  Lucille Ball is one of my heroines.  She made an indelible mark on my approach to absurdity – which I embrace!

We didn’t have ear pieces or data bases or even forms to fill out. We were frantically writing names and addresses on scraps of paper and promising to call back, send info, etc.  Eventually is slowed down a tad and we all breathed. But it kept up at a steady pace. And then a few hours later, Bam!! It happened again.  All five lines, all at once. We looked around at each other, battle weary and thrilled. “California!”

And so our mail order business was born.