It’s Not About The Cupcake

It’s Not About The Cupcake

I was recently having lunch with a friend who has been going through some serious personal trials. He was talking about how his reactions to various situations are more understandable to him now that he is in Psychotherapy. I shared with my friend that I totally agree with this observation and that I too am able to analyze my reactions to things from a much different angle than pre-therapy me. Putting this newfound self-scrutiny into action is a totally different story. As we talked, I brought up a saying that I like to use, “It’s not about the cupcake.” I love this adage because upon explanation of its meaning, most people incorporate it into their own common usage. It also fully describes those times when people obviously have no ability to self-reflect on their own behavior.

The cupcake in the back was called the "Tantrum Tamer." It was our biggest seller.

I coined the term when we owned Lulu’s Cupcakes. Anyone who has worked in the hospitality industry will tell you how awful hungry people can be. What I saw at the cupcake shop was different. During any given month, at least one customer would fly out of control about their dislike of our offerings. What made the situation more odd was that these were not the people putting in huge corporate or wedding orders. These emotionally unstable confectionary consumers were the people who bought a single cake or even stranger had not purchased anything. The angry complaints ranged from, “What are you thinking, not offering a red velvet cake!?! That’s just stupid!” to, “My cupcake was dry and it ruined my entire day!” Foul language and yelling was not uncommon even after an apology and an offer for a replacement or refund. During this time it was hard for me to not take it personally. I also had not realized my own triggers that could (and still can) lead me to the, “it’s not about the cupcake” edge. 

One day, while working my Speech Therapy job, an administrator said to me after an intense meeting with a very upset parent, “The parent isn’t really angry about the Special Education services. They are distraught about having a disabled child and everything that goes along with that.” It hit me. The cupcake customers were not really angry about their disappointing dessert. They probably had other shit going on in their lives; perhaps really bad shit. The cupcake and the shop owner or employees were easy targets for their discharge of emotions.

Over the course of the last couple of years I have remembered incidents from my own life that embody my invented proverb.  A perfect albeit tragic example was after my father’s death when my mother found my dad’s toupee and placed it on her face and jumped around wildly, screaming, “This is my fucking facelift!? Damn it! Lloyd (my father) was so worried about his Goddamn hair and here I am left with this fucking toupee and I could have used the money for a facelift!” Um, it wasn’t about the hairpiece. It’s not about the cupcake. My guess is that my mother was slightly grieving the loss of her spouse but was stressed and pissed that she was left an inheritance of debt totaling over $100,000 (this was in 1989).

I am embarrassed to think that one of the reasons that I enjoy my saying so much is because I am probably the guiltiest of projecting my anger onto unsuspecting recipients. Giving people the cupcake treatment, so to speak. I have a history of losing it on bankers, tire shop employees, fellow volunteers, and I am sorry to confess, once on a fast food worker, the later happening in High School when I was under pressure to get back to campus after lunch. My outbursts were the most severe and undeserved when I was younger and felt hyper vigilant of my place in society. I was an angry young adult with a definite “screw you” chip on my shoulder. I was ready to find and point out perceived or real injustices and proceed to verbally slam the person delivering these wrongs. In retrospect it really wasn’t about the multiple overdraft fees, the poorly installed tires, the bitchy philanthropic cliques or the slowly prepared taco. It wasn’t about the cupcake.

As my friend and I finished lunch it dawned on me how far I have come. Although at times I still react in a cupcake rage, I am usually able to redirect myself and define my underlying problem. Am I tired? Stressed? Does this person/event trigger a childhood or familial memory? As I said initially, I am able to more readily analyze my reactions and as they say awareness is the first step. I am still working on putting these tools to work for me. My friend and I agreed that everyone should be in therapy at least once in his or her life if for no other reason than to identify times when it isn’t about the cupcake. So, next time you flip about your barista improperly frothing your latte, a slow loading cell phone application or a delayed flight, remind yourself: It’s not about the cupcake!