"Is it Time to Finally Stop Making the Donuts?"
A Message from Dunkin Donut's Fred
NOTE FROM PAUL: As you know, I would like to offer my Substack to people who don’t have a voice on this platform. I recently met Fred, the Dunkin Donuts guy, and he asked if he could use my platform to clear up a few misconceptions and rumors. I was happy to oblige.
“Did we go to school together”
“Are you an actor”
This is my life
For those who aren’t familiar, back in the 80s, I let a documentary crew capture my routine as a donut maker at my place of business, Dunkin’ Donuts. As a film fan, I thought this would be an excellent chance to live out a lifelong dream. Sadly, what occurred was far from my dream and instead a nightmare.
I am a simple donut maker, and I was reduced to some mindless donut-making machine for America’s pleasure. If I knew this documentary crew was going to cut my life into 30-second commercials focusing on just my devotion to donuts. I never would have said, “yes”.
Gone was my focus on charity work, my relationship with my wife, my beautifully complex relationship with my my adopted children (I love you Janet and Janine and I see you now and I accept you both). Not to mention not a single mention of Alpaca farm. Instead, my entire legacy is summed up in four words: "Time to make the donuts."
You don’t know the weight of a catchphrase until it buries you.
Decades later, people still stop me on the street, chuckling as if I am some human cuckoo clock, popping out at dawn with a tray of glazed rings. They don’t ask about my hopes, my regrets, my thoughts on world affairs. Just donuts. Always donuts.
Do you know how many times I have been woken up in the middle of the night by drunk people shouting, “TIME TO MAKE THE DONUTS” outside my home? More than I can count. And that’s saying something because I can count very well—dough ratios, fryer timing, you name it.
I went to a funeral—a funeral—where the priest recognized me and whispered, “Was it time to make the donuts?”
I am haunted. Trapped in an endless loop of waking up before dawn, making the donuts, being recognized for making the donuts, and then eventually dying, presumably while making the donuts.
Well, I’m sorry, Dunkin’ Donuts, but it is time to stop making the donuts.
I am more than this. I am a man. A man with dreams, a man who once believed in something beyond a glazed ring of fried dough.
So go ahead. Enjoy your breakfast. But don’t ask me if it’s time to make it.
Because for me? It never will be again
*This substack was not my idea. Let me explain: I realized the most challenging part of a Substack is figuring out what to write about. So, I’m outsourcing it for you! Welcome to a new feature of my Substack, where I ask people for Title Suggestions for Substacks in my Chat, and then I write them. It’s a bit like improv but with Grammar errors. Thanks to Substack User Ryan for the Title.
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I worked at a stand-alone, 24-hour, Dunkin' Donuts when I was in high school - back when the women wore pink dresses, pantyhose and white shoes and and served sit-down customers (including lots of truckers) at a diner-type counter. Back when there were a zillion types of fresh donuts baked fresh every day and night - the display of which took up an entire wall behind us at the register. Also at the register - a case filled with special "fancies" created by the bakers. (When things weren't busy, one baker got his kicks making semi-risqué fancies that were not always displayable.) When the bakers were too busy, we kids made the Munchkins and filled, powdered & iced donuts. (I must've gained 15 lbs eating Munchkins.) The only other thing we sold that I can remember was decent soup heated from restaurant-sized cans.
Back then, we were known for our truly delicious coffee and fresh donuts. And the store smelled amazing.
Sadly, I never had the pleasure of meeting Fred, the head baker who appeared essentially against his will in the ubiquitous 30-second "Time To Make The Donuts" commercials. We learned he'd been duped (by unscrupulous producers) into believing he was being filmed for a documentary about his life's work - not commercials. I never had the opportunity to tell Fred how much I sympathized with his plight and prayed that his respite from the madness would arrive sooner rather than later. It is my one regret.
That explains why the took the "Donuts" out of Dunkin' Donuts' name.