The Cold Stone Heart of Cold Stone Creamery

By the time Newton's Cold Stone Creamery opened, the manager who hired me had been fired. The franchise owner and interim manager — let's call him the Ice Man — would not reveal the circumstances of Kate's termination; "She's just gone," he would say, silencing any mention of her name as if she were a desaparecido in the Ice Cream Revolution. Thus I entered the job fearing that if I served up too large a portion or didn't sufficiently crisp a waffle cone, I too would disappear. After spending a summer working for the Ice Man, it became clear that Kate's laid-back ways — more "Do your best, dude" than Cold Stone's Core Value to "Be the best... Be #1" — would be more at home at J.P. Licks, the classic, locally-owned ice cream store across the street.

Cold Stone Creamery has grown from a single store in Tempe, Ariz. to a chain of more than 1,000 locations with plans to expand to the Middle East. It is at the forefront of a new trend in ice cream stores in which the customer can choose custom toppings to be hand mixed into the ice cream right before their eyes. The focus is not on the ice cream itself, but the whole experience — or, as Cold Stone calls it, "The Ultimate Ice Cream Experience," which the Ice Man painstakingly attempted to create. Originally a computer programmer, he interacted with us as if we were boxes of electronics. If he could just plug in the right company-mandated formula, the same successful outcome would be achieved with each order. Such a person "should not have gone into the ultimate people business," offered one employee. But the Ice Man watched over us with a stern eye to make sure we followed the company's mandated approach. Here is the script employees were instructed to use, complete with tricks that emphasize the "profit" in the Core Value to "Profit by making people happy." (If I go missing, look for me in the basement of the Cold Stone headquarters with .22 slugs mixed-in to my corpse).

"Hello there! Welcome to Cold Stone! Which of these is your favorite flavor?" (Swing arm over the flavors so customers won't name a flavor that Cold Stone doesn't offer.)

They might reply, "Choc — " (By the time the first syllable of the flavor escapes their lips, have a sample spoonful ready even if they don't want it. As they taste it, say "Our chocolate is made fresh every day." But not exactly. While every flavor is made fresh daily, each generally then spends time in two freezers, sometimes for days, before making its way out to the display case and into the customer's mouth.)

"Do you have cookie dough?" a customer might ask.

"We don't have cookie dough ice cream, but would you like 'Cookie Doughn't You Want Some'? It's our French Vanilla with cookie dough, chocolate chips, fudge and caramel mixed in right here." (The base ice cream flavors are simple, but customers can choose their own mix-ins or go for a "Signature Creation," usually an amped-up version of a familiar flavor.)

If they consent: "Will that be a Love It or a Gotta Have it?" (Omit the smallest Like It size to give the sense that the more expensive choices are their only options.)

"Uh, can I do small?"

"Like It? Sure!" ("Pull out" the ice cream using two spades instead of the usual scoop — when the ice cream has just come out of the freezer, this task sends you down the express lane to the carpal tunnel — and transport it to Cold Stone's namesake, a granite slab kept at a constant five degrees Fahrenheit on which you mix in the candies, nuts, sauces and occasional fruits to the customer's liking.)

Once the mixing is complete — and the ice cream should not spend more than seven seconds on the stone — ask, "Would you like that in a waffle cone or a waffle bowl?" (Drop pitch of voice on "bowl" to imply that the free third option of a Styrofoam cup does not exist.)

One former coworker recalls slinging the lines so often that he would get into a "serving trance," an ice-cream autopilot that could make the hours fly by. I had felt it, too. There were times when my adherence to the Ice Man's script kept me from interacting with customers as one human to another. When a Rastafarian politely asked me to keep it under five dollars, I couldn't help but ask if he wanted a larger size, if he wanted a waffle bowl, if he wanted extra mix-ins, until the order was well over five dollars. I'm sorry, friend, but what could I do? The Ice Man had been right behind me.

There was an optional final line for those who really wanted to "Be the best... Be #1." They could wrap it up with some flair by saying, "Take a bite. Now, isn't that best ice cream you've ever had?"

Far from it. Just because Cold Stone ice cream has premium butterfat content doesn't mean it tastes good. It is smoother and creamier than the airier stuff you'd buy at a supermarket. But once you put the word "butterfat" on the table, you realize that's what this ice cream tastes like: cold, fatty butter. The flavors are too rich and sweet even before the mix-ins. Imagine taking the cake batter ice cream and adding cookie dough, fudge and a generous dollop of whipped cream to make "All Lovin', No Oven." The full creation is so heavy and overwhelmingly sweet that eating it makes you feel not only guilty but often sick. Kudos to anyone who carries out the Cold Stone diet of "Ice cream for breakfast, a smoothie for lunch and a sensible cake for dinner? — Who says you can't eat this amazing ice cream for all three meals?" (In all seriousness, do not attempt this.) Cold Stone claims to also serve lower-fat options, but the "no fat added" Sinless Sweet Cream has the consistency of Italian ice. It's hard to imagine anyone coming back after the novelty of the custom mixing has worn off.

That novelty can lead to problems. A creation's quality all depends on the server. If the ice cream spends too long on the stone, it can be a sloppy melted mess. It doesn't help that the Cold Stone crew sing when they receive tips — classic songs bastardized to include lyrics about mix-ins, ice cream and The Stone — forcing a halt in the production of your creation when time is crucial to a firm cup. No matter how hard they are belted out, verses like "Sprinkle, sprinkle, candy bar/these are what our mix-ins are" and "I got ice cream on a cloudy day/when it's cold outside, I got sorbet" will not refreeze your creation.

It has been three years since I left Cold Stone and I don't plan to return. Of all my old coworkers, only Cas remains there. Apparently, things have changed. Under hazy circumstances, the Ice Man eventually disappeared. Said Cas, "Whether or not the corporate guys actually took the store away from him or whether he decided to sell, he felt he was ready to return to computer programming." Instead of using the mandated lines, Cas reports, "the new management has always disapproved of actual deception, though naturally they do encourage us to encourage the customers and all that. I think the main thing they look for is confidence. It makes me feel slightly less evil for working for them." So the work environment has improved. But what of the ice cream? After every shift, Cas still trades his complimentary Like It-sized creation for a can of Pepsi.