The Cake Ain’t A Lie, But I Can’t Eat It

Back many years ago, I spent a few months working in a clinic where the admin staff were very into birthdays. Once or twice a month, they would circulate a card for everyone to sign and ask for a small donation. On the birthday, the staff person would be asked to come into a meeting room and, surprise! Coworkers and cake.

Admin #1: “[My Name], would you like some cake?”

Me: “Oh, no, thank you.”

Admin #2: “Why not?”

Me: “I’m allergic to dairy, but thank you for offering; it does look good.”

They would keep pushing (“just a small piece”) but not too much, and then they’d let me be. This happened at every birthday for a while and then dwindled to a polite single offer where I’d remind them of my allergy and that was that.  

I learned that they always bought the same brand of packaged cake, so I went to the supermarket and read all the ingredients of the various flavors and styles, hoping to find something dairy-free, but this was pre-Internet and before there were things like vegan cakes at regular markets or even much choice at all. This was pretty much the only brand.

Six months later, it was time for my birthday. I was not surprised to find myself called to a room magically filled with people. I got a lovely card and good wishes. And then, there was cake. I was sure that, for my birthday, they’d get me something I could eat. 

Me: “That cake looks so good. Is it homemade?”

Admin #1: *Laughing* “No, it’s [Famous Brand].”

[Admin #2] handed me a piece.

Me: “No, thank you. I’m allergic.”

Admin #2: “Right.” *Smiles and hands the piece to someone else*

They weren’t being mean (allergies weren’t common back then), but it was obvious my birthday wasn’t the point. That’s when I figured out that this entire ritual wasn’t about anyone’s birthday (though it was sweet and it brought the staff together in a way). It was, in fact, all about the cake.