Captain Creampuff and the Angry Letter To The Bank

Tuesday was just a typical day at the office.

First, I wrote a nice letter to the local bank and included it with my mail-in deposit.


Then I had lunch in the International District.


Then, I went down the street and picked up some snacks for my afternoon client meeting.

At a place called “Beard Papa’s”. That’s right. The name of the Cream Puff place was BEARD PAPA’S. What the hell, right?


My first impression was that the marketing team behind Beard Papa’s had decided that French pastries were synonymous with kindly sea captains. It made me wonder: are these pastries filled with creamed cod? Were they harvested from the sea floor? WHAT THE FUCK, JAPAN? WHO’S IN CHARGE OVER THERE?

Anywho, they were delicious. I got the standard vanilla kind (and green tea for my client). The woman who filled them right before my eyes was wearing a get-up not unlike the pour souls at Hot Dog On A Stick have to wear, but unlike the HDOS people, she looked incredibly proud to be wearing her yellow puff hat and yellow cravat. There was a bit of a language barrier, so I had to do a lot of pointing and smiling to get my stack of cream puffs in a cup. Also, she did a little mini-bow of gratitude at the end of our transaction. I bowed back. How culturally aware of me, right?


I had to find out what this place was all about, so I Googled Beard Papa when I got home. Weirder than buying French pastries from a Japanese woman dressed like an American hot dog vendor clown? The “Beard Papa Story”. Prepare to have your mind blown. Seriously, Japan. I will never understand you. Thanks for the cream puffs, though.