When I put in my two week’s notice Michelle told me she wanted me to blog one more time before I left.  I’ve been racking my brain for a week-and-a-half trying to think of another G. Harvest adventure.  I thought about the afternoon when I was sitting on the beach in Pattaya, Thailand while homesick and how I could translate that longing for home into G. Harvest coming up with our recipe for Oatmeal cookies while sitting on the same beach.  I thought about something with the Russian Mafia and the Trans-Siberian Railway.  But none of the story arcs were there… they were just flat.  So, sorry Michelle, but you’re just going to get a sentimental blog post instead.

I’ve worked at Great Harvest for almost six years.  I started the week after our first Thanksgiving.  I was a typical Cajun when I started which means that I ate rice as my preferred starch and bread was reserved for poboys and sandwiches.  I learned a lot more about life in the over 200,000 loaves that I’ve helped make than I ever expected and I’m not the only one: there is a book that has been written about Great Harvest’s unique approach to doing business.

For starters I learned to care about what I put in my mouth.  It’s amazingly easy to learn about the food you eat if you just take the time to pick up a book or two... or ask a Great Harvest employee.  After hearing J.P. & Michelle talk about the health benefits of our whole grain bread and after lots of books and articles, I still feel totally comfortable eating our bread and feeding it to my kids.

I also learned to care about the people around me.  I learned that from J.P. & Michelle as well as from my coworkers more than from the Great Harvest franchise.  My bosses and coworkers have graciously forgiven me when my perfectionism and temper have gotten the best of me.  In an interview I had a few months ago I called Great Harvest my MBA program because I’ve learned more about people through standing around a table kneading dough than I ever did in a business class or a cube farm.

I learned about living life and not just existing.  I’ve worked with people who played music professionally or tried really hard to make a living out of it and didn’t regret trying.  I worked alongside a woman who hiked the Appalachian Trail (and inspired G. Harvest’s Chocolate Brownie Bread story).  I’ve worked with one guy who built his own house and another who left Key West with one bag of books, one bag of clothes, and no plan for what to do when he arrived in Arizona (it worked out).  I’ve worked with so many women who love their families deeply and remind me to enjoy my kids while they are young and not just moan about seven straight years of diaper changing and butt wiping.  These men and women have inspired me to take risks and write life’s story with bold strokes.

J.P. has a shirt that says “creating community one loaf at a time”.  They’ve done it.  Over the last two weeks I’ve been telling some of our regular customers goodbye and I’ve been surprised by the looks of concern and regret on their faces.  It means a lot to me that their baker means as much to them as they have meant to me.  The good news is that you guys are still in good hands with all of the other people who work here… they know how to split the Morning Sampler just like you want and that you don’t like red onion and tomato on your sandwich!

When an employee leaves Great Harvest they get to write on the inside wall of the oven.  We jokingly call it the Wall of Shame but, secretly, I like to open it from time to time and remember my former coworkers.  There are a lot of great stories attached to those people.  Over the last couple of weeks I’ve thought about what I would add to the wall.  As soon as I hit the "save" button on this blog post I'm off to write it:

Dear Great Harvest,

I’ve lived on two continents and worked in jobs varying from Radio DJ to Pastor, Teacher to Event Coordinator.  You have taught me more about life than every job beforehand and probably more than any job that will follow.  You’ve fed my family and my soul for over five years.

Thank you.

Dallas Begnaud

And for those of you who’ve read the blog or put up with my obnoxious personality in the bakery, thank you, too.