Let me introduce myself.

My name’s Elaine, and I have been working as part of the Three Brothers family for almost 4 years. I work at the Braeswood store, and I am majoring in Sales and Marketing. During the Christmas season I was folding pie boxes with Janice and talking with her about my future. When she learned what my major was she said, “Great! You can learn to do some of the things that I do.” So, that is how you find me talking to you over the counter and now through my own Three Brothers Bakery blog.

My journey here began when I was 17; so, I guess you could say I grew up in the business. Throughout my time here I have developed irreplaceable friendships with my coworkers. Amidst all of my experiences here, the most lasting impressions come from the conversations I have had with our loyal customers.

You see, at Three Brothers the employees and customers develop a unique relationship. Each employee has at least one regular (customer), and these regulars who start out as just customers become so much more. The customer’s let us into their lives and we get to know each other. Even after four years, it brightens my day each time I see one of my regulars walk through our doors. It may sound sappy, but our customers aren’t just customers, they’re part of the family and that’s the honest truth.

My first regular was a wonderful older man named Jim. Jim would only come in on Saturdays to purchase two French bread loafs; always sliced, with no holes (a reference to the cell structure of the bread). The first item on my agenda after opening the store was to set aside Jim’s order and tape a piece of paper to it that read, “Jim’s Bread”. Throughout the two-year period that Jim was my regular we became good friends, I even ran into him at the local supermarket.

When Jim picked up his order around noon, he always asked how my week had been, and thanked me for putting his order together before leaving. He even insisted on calling every Saturday morning around nine to put in his order, despite me telling him countless times that he didn’t need to go to the trouble. I suppose this was just his way of being polite, and it warmed my heart.

Then, one Saturday morning Jim never called. I thought to myself, “Ha! Finally, he knows that he doesn’t have to call after two years!” But this wasn’t the case. In fact, Jim had passed away. His son called and told me the horrible news, and informed me that he would still be coming to pick up the bread.

When Jim’s son came in we introduced ourselves and I offered my condolences. After chatting he tried to hand me a five dollar bill for the bread, but I couldn’t let him do that. I told him, “This one’s on me”. Then we had a short spirited debate over who would pay before he accepted my offer; like father like son I suppose. Amidst this we came to the conclusion that he would still pick up the bread every Sunday for his mother, like Jim had done and the ticket would still read “Jim’s Bread”.

To this day every Saturday morning I continue to set aside two French loafs, sliced with no holes.

Dedicated to Jim.