Plasticised words
How I failed miserably and what I did afterwards
I want to tell you a story about failure.
You can choose:
Listen to it in a spontaneous video
or
Read it like a written story
or do both :)
Friday - 23 of January ‘26
I can feel the stress rise through my baker's outfit as twenty-two eager eyes look at me.
Behind me: a wide, empty, magnetic wall.
In front of me: ten plasticised words and magnets.
A kind of puzzle I had never resolved before.
Even though I work in this bakery often, I wasn’t an expert in the bread-baking process. Now, I was supposed to explain this process to others.
The only thing I can do is improvise on the spot.
I’m sure this will be bullsh*t
—
Some hours earlier, I had arrived at the bakery like it was a usual workday. However, one thing was different: today will be the first time I will lead a bread-baking workshop.
I put some music in the background and started preparing. I moved fast, but because it was the first time I had ever done this, I had no clue whether I would be ready on time or not.
An hour and a half later, I looked with satisfaction at the organised tables, which were patiently waiting for the eight participants to arrive.
Embarassingly, I hadn’t looked at the outline of the workshop yet. Fortunately, I still had twenty-five minutes before the workshop would really start.
I was about to read the first sentences when I heard a knock on the door.
It is probably Michiel. He is my boss at the bakery, and he said he would arrive exactly at nine, the start of the workshop. I guessed that bringing his kids to school probably went faster than expected.
I opened the door…
Two young woman with a wide smile and a lot of enhusiasm were standing in the doorway.
No sign of Michiel.
I hoped they couldn’t see the surprise on my face. “He… Hello, Welcome!” I managed to say. The first participants had already arrived. Let’s be friendly and ask them what they want to drink.
—
(Twenty minutes left)
After some small talk, I kept thinking about the outline I still had to read, so I told the two participants to excuse me. I walked to the table where my outline was lying.
Another knock at the door….
Are you kidding me?
“What do you want to drink?” I asked the arriving couple, who were in their sixtie,s after welcoming them warmly.
Then I heard the word I had hoped not to hear, not only that morning, but on any day. The single word I dread and hate the most: coffee.
There was a coffee machine, but as a non-coffee drinker, I had never used one. I had no idea how to even start it, and Michiel still hadn’t arrived yet, so I asked if one of the participants could help.
Thankfully, one of the young women was willing to help. She made a lot of this weird-smelling, hot beverage in no time.
—
Minutes are flying by and I’m letting all the participants in.
(Zero minutes left)
I looked around and saw a lot of participants. Maybe a bit too much?… I counted them.
One… two… three.…. ten? TEN?!
There are two people too many! Should I kick them out? Who are the two extra ones anyway?
Michiel arrives and I ask him what to do. He says that we’ll just continue with all ten participants. I quickly gather the materials for the two extra people.
The workshop should have already started by now…
—
(Ten minutes too late)
I started the workshop without looking at the outline. It will be fine. I’ll make it work! I did my very best to hide the stress.
We started with a short round of sharing who we are and how much bread baking experience we already have. Almost all participants said they had never baked bread before or just used an automatic bread baking machine at home from time to time. Perfect, the stakes are low.
I haven’t heard yet from the last few participants:
“This morning we had a two-hour drive all the way from deep in the Belgian Ardennes”
“Last week, we followed a bread-baking workshop in Germany.”
“We had a bakery ourselves for many years.”
These participants clearly had a lot of experience and high expectations. Possibly more experience than me and certainly higher expectations.
Who am I to do this anyway?
There was no point in turning back anymore, so I dived into the workshop.
—
Now, I am standing with my back to the magnetic wall and the stress is completely taking over. I am halfway through, desperately trying to explain the process of bread baking.
I notice that the music I put on earlier is still playing in the background. Not too loud, but loud enough to disturb me.
A tiny magnet falls out of my hand, and I have to pick it up.
Some of the plasticised words are hanging on the wall already.
Some are still lying on the table.
One of them is still in my hand.
Where does this one need to go?
I don’t say anything for a long time.
The twenty-two eyes are still silently watching me in suspense.
…
I really don’t know where to put this card…
I am supposed to know! It is not that difficult.
But I feel like I am talking plasticised words.
Shiny from afar, but fake as plastic.
…
“The next step is the final rise”, says Michiel and deflates the silence.
I failed.
He continues to explain the remaining part of the bread baking process. I feel degraded and listen to his explanation while putting the last plasticised words on the wall.
—
The room is empty. The ovens are off. The sink is full of dirty dishes.
I ask Michiel what he thinks of the workshop.
“You did very well,” he answers, “you managed the last-minute situation with the two extra participants well. Only the explanation of the bread-baking process could be improved.”
I feel like he is being too nice with that answer. Probably to cheer me up a bit.
Curiosity takes control of me and I walk up the stairs, open the laptop and check the feedback that the participants gave me.
“5/5”
“5/5”
“I had a lot of fun today in this workshop.”
“5/5”
“We learned many things about baking.”
“5/5”
“5/5”
“5/5”
“They were very welcoming and nice.”
“5/5”
Did they really all give me 5/5? You have got to be kidding.
In my mind, I look back on the workshop. I start remembering all the parts that went well. The thirty perfectly baked breads, the clear answers to difficult questions and most importantly: the smiles on the faces of the participants.
I had completely forgotten about them.
…
Maybe I didn’t say that many plasticised words at all.
Shiny from afar, but fake flexible as plastic.
