Job titling

The couple strolls casually down the main tourist strip, hand in hand. Flashing lights and signs are everywhere, a multitude of attractions trying to lure visitors into museums, giftshops, haunted houses, restaurants, rides, and midways. The couple takes the whole scene in but doesn't fall prey to the gimmicks--they've been there before and are this time there to relax, enjoy each other's company, and people-watch.

The next picture window they come to looks into a huge candy store. The walls are lined with massive tubes filled with all sorts of sugary goodness. Cases sparkle and shine with an edible rainbow of colours; the lights reflect off of all of the sugar-coated treats. Tables and displays of chocolate line the floors; bags of sweets ready to be gifted with the area's local logo strikingly emblazoned on the packaging. However, it is the performance displayed front and centre stage in the window that the couple stop to watch.

On a thick marble table top, a man is pouring thick molten chocolate from a large vat. Dressed in white from head to toe including his apron, the man takes up a long handled paddle and as he walks around and around the table, he scoops and flips the chocolate, kneading in back into the centre of the marble. He is sure and swift; the oozing fudge continuously threatening to reach the edge and spill off, but he works fast and never lets that happen. The chocolate-soon-to-be-fudge looks smooth and delicious--he never spills a drop.

At the end of his kneading process, he deftly sweeps all of the fudge off the table into a long trough in a few strokes, then carries the trough away to further cool and then to be later cut and packaged.

The couple lingers a little longer, the woman's head having found a comfortable spot on the man's shoulder. A moment later, she stands up straight, ready to move on. She looks up him with a smile.

    "What?" he asks her.
    "Nothing." But her smile grows into a small chuckle.
    "No, really--what are you thinking?"
    "I was just thinking...what's that guy's job?" she laughs this time, shaking her head at herself.
    "What's that guy's job? Well, he's a...oh...!" He joins her in laughter.

Still giggling--especially after noticing another couple that had stopped to watch the window had overheard their conversation and were laughing themselves--they link arms and head off to the midway, ready to try their luck at bowling.