The Gingerbread Guild of Merriment gathered in the warm glow of the town bakery. The ovens hummed like contented giants. Cinnamon hung in the air. Powdered sugar floated through the light like festive dandruff. The room smelled like hot chocolate and chocolate chip cookies.
At the front stood Mrs. Muffinwhip, the chairperson, loudly tapped her spoon on the counter, like Judge Judy. “Order, please. It is time to choose our annual holiday project.”
Several Guild members instinctively ducked, because in the corner sat a single charred gumdrop, the last surviving remnant of last year’s catastrophe. The twelve foot gingerbread Ferris wheel had been roughly the size of a monster truck tire, and for a brief moment in history it actually behaved like one.
That is, until, someone had forgotten to tighten the frosted screws, and the entire structure lifted off its platform and rolled down Maple Street. It hit a speed bump, gained momentum, and rumbled past Town Hall while residents screamed and dove into snowbanks. It finally stopped when it plowed directly into the mayor’s brand new snow mobile, which has never recovered emotionally. The mayor, not the snow mobile.
Mrs. Muffinwhip waved her spoon in the air, like she was casting spells over the committee members. “I propose a gingerbread carousel. It is classic, it is graceful, and it is unlikely to grow wheels and escape.”
The room murmured in strong approval.
Then Pumpernickel B. Read, the newest member, popped up so quickly his chair skidded backward and knocked a tray of snickerdoodles onto the floor.
Pumpernickel held a notebook shaped like a gingerbread man wearing reading glasses. “I propose something different. Before we vote, we should create a business case and identify the expected benefits. We need KPIs. We need a value assessment. Otherwise we are building for the sake of building and our next project may fly right into the next town like a flying saucer.”
The room froze.
Marzipan Picklefeather gasped so loudly she inhaled a cloud of powdered sugar. “My cousin is still afraid to walk near Maple Street. He hears jingling and dives behind shrubs.”
Mrs. Muffinwhip frowned. “Business cases are for corporations. Obviously, this is your first time living in a community of culinary confection art-eests. Our creations are the benefit.”
Pumpernickel smiled with the earnest intensity of someone who alphabetizes sprinkles. “Art is wonderful. But if we want to make a real difference, we need a project that delivers measurable value to Merriment’s families. Genuine value. Impact. Maybe even a bar chart that sparkles.”
Someone in the back raised a hand. “Can icing be a KPI? It stands for Kid Pastry Indulgence.”
“No,” Pumpernickel said, then added kindly, “but it might be a way to assess value.”
To settle the debate, Pumpernickel marched to the chalkboard and wrote the five steps in swirling letters. He added gumdrop bullet points and underlined key phrases with a candy cane.
- Identify the purpose
- Assess the value
- Define Key Performance Indicators
- Track the benefits
- Align with the Merriment holiday strategy
Mrs. Muffinwhip stared. “We have never aligned with anything. Unless you count aligning gumdrops in a pleasing spiral formation.”
Pumpernickel bent down, picked up a snickerdoodle from the floor, and brushed it off with complete confidence. “Then this year is our chance.” He chomped into it with the confidence of someone who believes floor cookies build character.
The room erupted at once. Someone waved a frosting chart like a legal document. Another member insisted glitter was a moral imperative. Someone else used gumdrops as voting tokens and then accidentally ate half the ballot.
After spirited debate and several emotional baked good outbursts, the Guild finally evaluated the three project options with slightly sticky rigor.
- The carousel, pretty, until the geese inevitably turn it into a winter housing development
- The cookie maze, fun but guaranteed to trigger sugar highs so intense they would send half the town sprinting into the already understaffed ER, which is still recovering from the ferris wheel incident
- A community gingerbread decorating night that raised money for the toy drive, brought families together, and delivered every measurable benefit
They voted. They voted again. They voted a third time because someone kept eating the tokens. Finally, the decorating night won.
Mrs. Muffinwhip sighed with pride and irritation mingled together. “Fine. We will use our artistic talents for the good of the community. But I insist on one glittery moment. I need this for my soul.”
Pumpernickel nodded. “Glitter usage can be reviewed for value contribution. Along with the Kid Pastry Indulgence.”
A handful of members cheered. A handful groaned. One whispered, “Here comes governance again.”
As they planned, the bakery filled with chaotic holiday joy. For the first time in Merriment history, the Gingerbread Guild chose a project that was strategic, beneficial, and extremely unlikely to roll into traffic.