Another box arrived at my door. My boss had sent it. This time it was long, skinny and pink. A brand name stretched along the top. It felt like holding a three dimensional logo.
Inside - four giant cookies. a form of cheerleading. I had been working overtime again. After going many months without succumbing to that treachery, there I was again. As if I had learned nothing.
The cookies were excessive. Two covered in a half inch of icing. Each just shy of 1,000 calories.
Out of curiosity, I found the company’s website. Macro shots of cookies danced across a signature pink background. It was perfectly instagrammable, pretending to have personality.
The “Our story” page featured a classic tale of humble beginnings & passion. Google revealed the truth. Started by a tech bro looking for a hole in the market. No former interest in baking.
It was a technology company that just happened to sell cookies.
So I downloaded their app.
It read like a game.
When you order, each cookie magically collects inside a pink box. If you want more, the box automatically expands to fill your desires. Who had masterminded this? It was so good, I almost couldn’t be mad.
Their cookies are made in “tech-driven” bakeries. Several Reddit threads discuss the nature of the job: impossible demand, corporate controlled cameras, double and sometimes triple overtime. In 2022, 11 stores were fined for violating child labor laws.
The cookies taste how all of this sounds. They eat like a highlight reel. Overly sweet and saturated. No real depth. Each flavor indistinguishable from the other.
But here’s the kicker. I still fucking ate them. I didn’t throw them out, at least not at first. Over the course of a few days, I kept returning to that pink trough, rationing off little triangles until each cookie resembled a pie chart, mapping my discontent.
Did the sugar rush make the overtime more palatable?
This all feels kind of dire.
Empty calories in, empty calories out. Excess and convenience at every turn, but never reaching satiety. The same ingredients regurgitated into illusions of choice, of freedom. In our food, in these jobs, in the same fucking Netflix shows. Fomo and urgency raising the stakes, co-opting our attention and taste.
I want out.
Anna Fusco says “I write to know myself because the world is hellbent on distracting me from her.”
In the midst of writing this piece I started painting. I’d never really done it before, but felt compelled to try. I wanted speed, to make marks quickly and move through ideas in one night. I was looking for ways to get free.
These images are what emerged. Each painted with this story in mind, beginning with the same color pink and letting the rest unfold.
I am learning to follow these inklings. They are teaching me to parse things. mine and not mine. stripping away manufactured desires.
There is no instant gratification, but the reveal is so much sweeter. I am finding real nourishment, tending to internal deficits created by depraved systems. I do not fit inside the pink box. I am not interested in oblivion. I want to build a life that sings.
one I can actually sink my teeth into.
Crumbl has over 900 stores across the U.S. and 18+ million followers on social media. Each week they release a new menu.
References:
- Our Story page
- “tech-driven bakery”
- Crumbl employee Reddit threads
- Child labor violation