Never Satisfied

George Washington- The Election

Alexander Hamilton was working on my campaign every day. I hadn't asked him once. I'm not kidding you. He made two hundred posters in two days, and hung them all up without my even suggesting.
I had asked him to meet me at quarter-past three at my locker on Wednesday. He was there earlier than me, but I mean, what did you expect?
"You wanted to meet me?" Alexander asked, standing up straight, his full attention on me.
"Yes, there's something that I have to ask of you," I responded.
"Yes?" He looked eager to do the task.
"I need you to raise some more money for the campaign. There are some t-shirts that Thomas Jefferson designed that need to be made. I was wondering if you wanted to run a bake sale."
"A bake sale? Are you sure you don't want, um, something more..." he trailed off.
"Extravagant? Alexander, I appreciate your dedication, but sometimes you don't need to write a play about politics for your campaign," I said seriously. "Anybody will buy a brownie, not everyone will watch a musical."
"That's not how I'd do it," he retorted, "I'd write a musical. I think I'd call it: Hamilton."
"That would be your choice, but please see if anybody will make some things. I know for a fact that Eliza Schuyler makes a really sweet cinnamon roll."
Alexander nodded. "Oh, I've had her cinnamon rolls. The taste is... What would I call it? Pure. Do you know what I'm saying?"
"I know exactly what you're saying. They're almost too good for this world. See who will sign up. I have a list of what I want made. You can price things. Post the sign up sheets around the school," I commanded.
"Okay! What day should the bake sale be on?" he asked.
"On the twentieth. That's three days after the people in France come back and two weeks from tomorrow."
"I can do them here and have the, ready in an hour, at most! Do you-"
"Go home, Alexander. Finish the sheets by tomorrow. I'll check them and we'll have them up on Thursday. Good luck."