Breakfast at All-Size Inn

Breakfast at All-Size Inn

Jasmine had worked at six motels, hotels, inns, and bed-and-breakfasts in her career. Breakfast had always been easy: you put out the stuff and people came and ate the stuff and if the stuff ran low, you refilled the stuff.

It was a bit different at All-Size Inn. Not only did the guests pay her weekly salary for a night there, but it was a very customized experience. The motto at All-Size Inn was “All Are Welcome” and the managers took it seriously.

Jasmine got to the kitchen every day at 4:00am. The place looked like a collision between a laboratory and a foundry. One side had microscopes and miniature craft tools while the other side had industrial machines with troughs running into them from vats high up near the ceiling.

She started with the smalls, as she thought of them, although the staff were forbidden to refer to any guest just by their size. Calling a guest small or large would get you a reprimand and using words like “midget” or “giant” were instant tickets to the unemployment office. Every guest was a person first, even if they ranged in size from six inches high to almost fifty feet.

Jasmine sat in front of one of the microscopes and put a piece of strawberry under it. Using scalpel and tweezers, she carved off slices of the strawberry and arranged them on a plate the size of her pinky fingernail along with an assortment of other fruits. Next, she sliced several fish eggs open and poured them into a tiny pan for scrambled eggs. By the time, she had made toast from a loaf that would have seemed small to an ant and put it all on a covered tray so it wouldn’t blow away, her fingers were starting to cramp. She set the whole thing into a covered electric train which brought it over to the smaller side of the inn where the guests were just waking up.

Jasmine worked her way up. The portions got larger, as did the plates that she put them on. Finally, she reached the breakfast for the largest of the guests. Jasmine climbed up into a crane and consulted the order sheet. Orange juice, coffee, and croissants. At least it was better than the couple two weeks ago that had ordered Eggs Benedict every morning.

With the crane, Jasmine lifted five large sacks of roasted coffee beans and dumped them into the grinder. Once it was ground, she pushed a button to pour it into the filter, then started the water dripping into the swimming pool–sized coffee pot.

Next, she opened the gate to the orange hopper and the oranges poured down into the juicer. The inn got a truckload of oranges delivered from Spain every day so they knew they were fresh. Jasmine changed controls to a huge robotic hand that picked up two glasses almost taller than she was and set them under the juicer’s spout. Once the glasses were filled with freshly-squeezed orange juice, she pushed a button to empty the peels and pulp onto a conveyor belt that took it out to a lot where local farmers came and got it to put on their crops. It smelled a lot better than your average fertilizer, too.

The last thing were the croissants. Since making pastries the size of a dining room table required a very specific type of skill, these had to be delivered from outside. There was a bakery nearby that make them for All-Size Inn. It was called Pastries for Life but the locals generally called it Pastries You Can Live In. Just one doughnut from there was enough for a whole morning meeting at a large company, even if all divisions were invited.

Jasmine got a text saying the croissant truck had arrived. She opened the bay door and a tractor trailer backed up to the door. Out slid a specially-made Tupperware container with two fresh croissants in it. Jasmine popped off the top with the robotic arm and gently lifted the croissants onto a plate the size of her living room. A few stalks of bamboo on the side served as a garnish.

The coffee had finished brewing. She filled the gigantic mugs and using the robotic arm, moved all of the breakfast items into an elevator that lifted it up larger hotel rooms.

And then she was done. Jasmine climbed down from the crane and poured herself a much smaller cup of coffee. Now she could take a break and spend the rest of the day doing the dishes and preparing for tomorrow’s breakfast. It wasn’t always easy but she couldn’t complain. At least she wasn’t part of the housekeeping staff.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. I hope you put Jasmine along with all the others, in a little book. They are so wonderful David. Tiny pulp jewels. 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That’s an idea. I’ll think about it.

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Make a note or you might forget.


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