This is the first of seven posts in a series titled, "It Happened at Moishe's." The series is written by Manuela Zoninsein, specially for PresenTense Online.

Monday: The Fresh and Honest Truth

Don’t expect the syrupy enticements of Sara Lee commercials, or Starbucks’ promise that your server’s compensation package will result in patient and quality treatment, or the “have it your way” of Burger King entitling you, the customer, to an opinion that will always be considered right. Not here. 

At Moishe’s, we will tell you when you’re wrong.

We’ll tell you when the braided challah bread you want to buy isn’t as fresh as the square challah to its left. You want your marble cake frosted with a personalized greeting? Well, you’ll need to give us 24-hour notice. The black-and-white cookies currently in the store may have been baked the day before, so we’ll dissuade you from those and redirect you to the hamentaschen—prune, not poppy—which were baked fresh the same morning.

Honesty, at your service.

The upside is that you always know you’re getting the freshest products. Even if those chocolate cigars you wanted weren’t the freshest, it’s likely the apple turnovers, or another goodie, is still warm from the oven. Your beloved whole grain bread is sold out, but Wednesday morning we’ll have a new stock. Those chocolate chip cookies may be yesterday’s, but wait another 10 minutes…and you’ll get a fresh batch of almond horns. 

Even employees like me have been on the receiving end of rebuke, like the multiple times I underestimated the size of the box needed to fit an order (who knew Linzer tarts were so wide?). Or when I acquiesced and sold a customer a half-loaf of pumpernickel bread even though Moishe’s doesn’t traditionally sell partial quantities. Didn’t I know that Mrs. So-and-So likes her pound cake cut the long, rectangular way and not in a square? And that Mr. So-and-So always takes his coffee black?

I suppose the blow of such censure is somewhat softened by the surrounding sugared doughballs, but more importantly, it’s my familiarity with the Jewish tradition of debate which lets me giggle to myself as though I’m part of a secret alliance. Everyone who enters the store, New Yawker or not, is encouraged to disagree and speak bluntly at Moishe’s—whether discussing the day’s freshest bread or the newest world affair. 

The lofty American promise of customer satisfaction has become generic, watered-down, and forced in our world. When those ideals are mandated from above in a corporate structure, the quaint and cute and personable client-to-counter-worker interactions once inspired by small-town charms and local chatter in a service setting are, quite simply, inauthentic.

But you can still expect honest-to-goodness treatment at Moishe’s. And no, we don’t have Splenda. (Have sugar instead; it's better for you anyway. Honestly.)