Until the Ice Cream Man called, I thought I was a phony. Writing, after all, isn't like computer programming or shoe cobbling. Everyone can write, so my job is like being a professional talker or doodler, the latter of which, oddly enough, the New Yorker employs. But when the Ice Cream Man in Greenwich, N.Y., announced I'd won its Name That Ice Cream Flavor contest, I realized I indeed had a skill. My work, delivered under the pseudonym of a local resident, crushed the non-professional competition. I not only deserved my paycheck from TIME, but could probably make extra money naming...
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