My trainer turned on his truck's music speaker to signal our arrival, and it blasted the iconic Ice Cream Man song: "The Entertainer."

"Basically you want to drive as slow as possible," said Carl. "If you go too fast, people won't have time to catch you, and you won't sell any ice cream."

It only took about six houses of driving before a young mother came out of her front door and waved us down.

"I'll do the first one, and then you can try it out," Carl told me before the woman reached the truck. "Just make sure you greet them and ask politely what you can get for them."

"I'd like a Chocolate Éclair bar, please."

"Sure, that'll be a dollar fifty." Carl took the woman's money and then turned around to retrieve the ice cream bar. He reached into the freezer, and a look of dismay came over his face.

"Dammit," he said to me under his breath. "Something's wrong with my freezer. The ice cream is soft. We're gonna have to go back." He refunded the woman's money and apologized for the inconvenience. I couldn't believe that Carl broke his number one rule! As we returned to the highway exit, Carl let loose his frustrations.

"I don't know what the fuck happened! What a waste of time. I'm not making any money today."

Then a moment later, he calmed down and asked, "Do you want to drive?"

"No, that's okay," I replied.

"Yeah, this thing is pretty hard to handle on the highway anyways."

We drove back to the store in Center Line, but it was already almost 3 pm and Carl didn't know how long it would take to fix the truck. He said I could come out with him in another truck, but I declined. Amanda said that I would be sharing a truck with another part-time driver, and we decided on Tuesday and Thursday for my route days. I would start the upcoming Thursday. Amanda said that most drivers came in around noon, left the parking lot by 1:00 pm, and stayed out until at least 9:00.

So my entire job training consisted of some preparatory work with Carl and a single incomplete ice cream sale. I hadn't even driven a truck when they sent me out alone in one. Luckily the trucks had automatic transmission, since I didn't know how to operate a manual. The truck I got to use was in better shape than Carl's, too. It was the more traditional yellow color, and didn't look at all like a postal service vehicle. Seeing all the menu images on the side of the truck instantly reminded me of when I was a child, locked in front of the dazzling board, drooling over all the possible choices.

I told my family that I had been hired, even though the nature of the hire had been so unconventional and informal. My eight-year-old sister was the most excited. She and my mom made me promise that I would come sell to them at least once, even though doing so would mean deviating at least six miles from my route in Sterling Heights.

***

I showed up on Thursday and Amanda gave me the keys to a truck and a map of my route. It consisted of about twelve square miles, south to 14 Mile, north to 20 Mile, west to Dequindre, and east to Mound. I completed the inventory very slowly, realizing that it would take some practice before I could do it confidently. I sorted the ice cream and turned on my truck, then waited a moment to look at the map. All the streets seemed to form an enormous maze, but with no start or finish. Because of my innate desire to apply logical reasoning, I wanted to figure out the best method of covering all the streets. "I'll start near the top," I told myself.

I left the truck lot around 1 pm and headed up Mound towards 19 Mile. I drove slowly at first, trying to get accustomed to the acceleration, brakes, and steering. The truck was noisy, and the mirrors rattled while I drove. For a while, I didn't want to go over 40 mph, fearing that the wheels would pop off or the breaks would fail. Then, sometimes, while stopped at traffic lights, I got the feeling that the engine would die and I'd be unable to start it again, but instead would have to wait, humiliated, for a tow truck to come, while everyone shot me looks of scorn as they fought to pass on the left.

I reached a subdivision and pulled over for a moment to get my composure. "Ok," I thought. "Here we go."

I flipped on the truck's music speaker, eased the transmission into drive, and started idling down the street. I realized I'd have to brake even while idling, to go as slow as Carl had instructed. I had no idea at the time that I was embarking upon a long line of random encounters, awkward moments, and generally strange occurrences. For now, I was just waiting for something to happen.

Finally, after a long and torturous five minutes, two women and a few of their children emerged from a house and came down to the street. I put the truck in park and decreased the music volume. I didn't turn it off completely, because, as Carl had told me, you still want others to be able to hear the truck. Then I moved to the service window and waited for my customers.

"Hi, what can I get for you?"

They returned my "hi," but then didn't say anything else for a while. I waited patiently for them to make a decision, but eventually one of the moms felt bad for taking so long. "Sorry," she said. "Don't worry. We'll spend a lot of money."

I smiled and told her it was no problem. I wanted to say, "I'm just happy I found a customer," but I didn't want to seem inexperienced. They continued to discuss the purchase, and then the same mom relayed the choices.

"Okay, we'll have one Bomb Pop, one Screwball, one Power Puff Girl, and...I'll have an Ice Cream Sandwich."

"Sure," I said. I turned around and searched for the items in my cooler, then set the ice cream on the little shelf below the serving window. I felt a small panic when I realized I had to add up the item costs in my head. "Come on," I thought. "You can do this. You've taken Calculus." That kind of mental math might sound like a cinch, but it isn't -- particularly with hungry eyes staring you down. A Bomb Pop and Screwball are $1.50 each, Power Puff Girl is $1.75, and an Ice Cream Sandwich is $2.00. That makes $6.75.

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