It's weird. When it comes to holidays, images of snowmen, Santa Claus' and baby Jesus' usually conjure up feelings of warmth and love. So it's surprising that when a holiday that specializes in hearts and being in love, does the opposite.
It all started the Thursday before Valentines Day. I had woken up with a crink in my neck, Anna Nicole Smith was found dead in an embarrassing, cheesy hotel, and my good friend Martha, just informed me that she was moving away. Before I could even get all the details, I immediately told Martha I would take her out to lunch, for one last meal, one last conversation, one last goodbye. Of course, as luck would have it, I left my brand-new, black, Water Buffalo Double Billfold Coach wallet, from Las Vegas at home, so I couldn't take my friend out to lunch. I asked my co-worker and friend, Adrianna, if I could borrow a couple bills and to my surprise she opened the cash register.
ADRIANNA: Just write an I-O-U. I do it sometimes when I need to borrow some money.
ME: But doesn't that make us short at the end of the day?
ADRIANNA: Well, I put it back the next day. Alice understands if we need to borrow a few dollars. Just so long as you pay her back. It's almost like petty cash.
As it turns out, Alice actually did understand. Sorta. What she couldn't understand, though, is why I didn't ask her, personally. And neither did Adrianna, as she shook her head at me in disappointment. In hindsight, taking money out of the register, wasn't probably the best thing to do, despite the fact that Adrianna did it on a regular basis and that my old friend was moving away, who, as it turns out, wasn't really moving away per se, just leaving her job, downtown. But nonetheless, it happened.
And though I was clearly in no situation to point the finger, I couldn't understand why Adrianna didn't say anything to back up my actions. Wasn't there an unwritten rule in the workforce, that co-workers had to stand together, united against the oppressive and tyrannical figure that was our boss? Where was the love? I'll admit, my punishment was very lenient Alice forgot about the whole missing money issue within a matter of minutes, but still, not having the support of my co-worker and friend really bothered me. It bothered me even more, when a similar incident happened later on that day.
A customer came to the shop and bought an arrangement of orange gladiolas to be sent to one of the offices upstairs. It wasn’t until after she left that I realized the arrangement was being sent to Bry, the attorney my friend Hadassah was seeing. Otherwise known, as the other man playing the part in her theory of dating. But flowers from another woman? I had to tell her. After all, she was in the middle of a Pros and Cons list, debating whether or not she would go steady with Bry or Guy. This was a factor that had to be included. Because, as Adrianna said, "You're her friend. If the tables were turned and it were you, wouldn't you want to know?"
And I would, if I were in that situation, but, as it turns out, I cant. Or at least, I'm not supposed to. Somewhere down the floral business history line, some stupid florist came up with the rule that customer relations and business with a florist must be kept secret with the utmost trust. Alice explained to me, in front of a disapproving Adrianna, that what a customer does with flowers they purchase, is there own business and not ours. For example, if a guy came to buy flowers for his mistress, knowing full well we knew his wife, we could not tell the wife. No matter what. For a half second, I kinda wished Alice's husband was having an affair, so she could see that sometimes rules have to be broken. But the thing I wished the most was, that Adrianna would actually say something, instead of leaving me out to hang dry. She made me feel guilty for keeping the information to myself. And true, I probably would've still said something to Hadassah, regardless if Adrianna said anything at all, but the fact that she did and didn't say anything about it made me wonder if she was just out to get me. Or was I just being paranoid about the whole thing?
Three days and many, many pre-made Valentine arrangements later, Adrianna and I were at Alice's mother's house, in a garage that we had converted into a freezer. Alice and her friend, Jaz, had gone to pick up more red, pink, and white roses and carnations, leaving Adrianna and me behind with two Catholic school PTA mom's and two drag queens, to get ready for our biggest day of the year. Well, one drag queen and one belly dancer. Apparently, when it came to hiring volunteers to help us out with the mad Valentine rush, Alice wasn't picky. And I don't know if it was because so much time had passed that I had forgotten about Adrianna and her silent mouth, but that Sunday afternoon, made me wonder if maybe she really was jinxing me.
I was in the bathroom, blowing my nose with single-ply toilet paper, and I started to wonder what kind of people used single-ply. I mean, with all the technological advances they do to toilet paper, to make it seem more like a fluffy, cotton towel than anything else, you'd have to wonder what of people lived in that house. And the best way to find out? The medicine cabinet. Unfortunately, besides a couple of razors and a bottle of Children's Motrin, the only interesting thing I could find was a bottle of vicodin, filled with tiny pebbles. So I left, but not before flushing my used tissue down the toilet. But it didn't go down.
Instead, more water came up, along with a small, round, quarter-size thing of...poop! It was Adrianna's! She had used the bathroom before me, and I guess all the toilet paper I used to make my own quilted, triple-ply, plugged the toilet or something because out popped a poop. Immediately I tried using a plunger, but during mid-pump, the orange rubber tore in half! I didn't know what to do, and neither did half my friends, who just laughed and laughed at my unlucky, misfortune when I called them, asking for help. I had no choice but just to wait for the water level to go down, which took a good thirty minutes and by that time it was hard to convince everybody, including the queens, that I wasn't doing what they thought I was doing, in the bathroom. And it was all Adrianna's fault. I had to get her back.
Valentines Day at a flower shop is the equivalent to being in the winner stall at the Kentucky Derby. From sun-up to sun-down, we were one busy little shop of flowers. People kept coming in, spending insane amounts of money, trying to buy the love and affection of their Valentine with roses, chocolates, cheesy Mylar balloons, basically anything with a heart. It was enough to make you sick, but it made me happy, because with all the hours I accumulated, I totally made bank on my paycheck. And though I had spent every waking moment of the past week, getting ready for this day, and was beyond exhausted, somewhere down the day, I was kinda happy that I was making other people happy with my flowers. Hell, I was probably gonna be responsible for the procreation of a whole new generation. It was actually turning out to be a good day.
And it got even better that night, after we closed. Alice wanted to take us all out for Chinese, and oddly enough, everyone accepted the invitation, but me. Guess I was the only one with real Valentine dinner plans. But on the way to my Valentine plans, I got a phone call from Alice, asking me if Adrianna had remembered to bring a dozen roses for her friend Anthony. She didn't. And since I was closer to the shop, Adrianna asked if I could just bring some roses. Which I did. But I brought a bouquet, instead of an arrangement, which did not please either Adrianna or Alice. But I didn't care. I finally got Adrianna back. And it was that satisfactory alone, that made working at a flower shop during Valentines all worth it. Of course, my Valentine date with Colette made it worth it too, but that's another story for another time.
It all started the Thursday before Valentines Day. I had woken up with a crink in my neck, Anna Nicole Smith was found dead in an embarrassing, cheesy hotel, and my good friend Martha, just informed me that she was moving away. Before I could even get all the details, I immediately told Martha I would take her out to lunch, for one last meal, one last conversation, one last goodbye. Of course, as luck would have it, I left my brand-new, black, Water Buffalo Double Billfold Coach wallet, from Las Vegas at home, so I couldn't take my friend out to lunch. I asked my co-worker and friend, Adrianna, if I could borrow a couple bills and to my surprise she opened the cash register.
ADRIANNA: Just write an I-O-U. I do it sometimes when I need to borrow some money.
ME: But doesn't that make us short at the end of the day?
ADRIANNA: Well, I put it back the next day. Alice understands if we need to borrow a few dollars. Just so long as you pay her back. It's almost like petty cash.
As it turns out, Alice actually did understand. Sorta. What she couldn't understand, though, is why I didn't ask her, personally. And neither did Adrianna, as she shook her head at me in disappointment. In hindsight, taking money out of the register, wasn't probably the best thing to do, despite the fact that Adrianna did it on a regular basis and that my old friend was moving away, who, as it turns out, wasn't really moving away per se, just leaving her job, downtown. But nonetheless, it happened.
And though I was clearly in no situation to point the finger, I couldn't understand why Adrianna didn't say anything to back up my actions. Wasn't there an unwritten rule in the workforce, that co-workers had to stand together, united against the oppressive and tyrannical figure that was our boss? Where was the love? I'll admit, my punishment was very lenient Alice forgot about the whole missing money issue within a matter of minutes, but still, not having the support of my co-worker and friend really bothered me. It bothered me even more, when a similar incident happened later on that day.
A customer came to the shop and bought an arrangement of orange gladiolas to be sent to one of the offices upstairs. It wasn’t until after she left that I realized the arrangement was being sent to Bry, the attorney my friend Hadassah was seeing. Otherwise known, as the other man playing the part in her theory of dating. But flowers from another woman? I had to tell her. After all, she was in the middle of a Pros and Cons list, debating whether or not she would go steady with Bry or Guy. This was a factor that had to be included. Because, as Adrianna said, "You're her friend. If the tables were turned and it were you, wouldn't you want to know?"
And I would, if I were in that situation, but, as it turns out, I cant. Or at least, I'm not supposed to. Somewhere down the floral business history line, some stupid florist came up with the rule that customer relations and business with a florist must be kept secret with the utmost trust. Alice explained to me, in front of a disapproving Adrianna, that what a customer does with flowers they purchase, is there own business and not ours. For example, if a guy came to buy flowers for his mistress, knowing full well we knew his wife, we could not tell the wife. No matter what. For a half second, I kinda wished Alice's husband was having an affair, so she could see that sometimes rules have to be broken. But the thing I wished the most was, that Adrianna would actually say something, instead of leaving me out to hang dry. She made me feel guilty for keeping the information to myself. And true, I probably would've still said something to Hadassah, regardless if Adrianna said anything at all, but the fact that she did and didn't say anything about it made me wonder if she was just out to get me. Or was I just being paranoid about the whole thing?
Three days and many, many pre-made Valentine arrangements later, Adrianna and I were at Alice's mother's house, in a garage that we had converted into a freezer. Alice and her friend, Jaz, had gone to pick up more red, pink, and white roses and carnations, leaving Adrianna and me behind with two Catholic school PTA mom's and two drag queens, to get ready for our biggest day of the year. Well, one drag queen and one belly dancer. Apparently, when it came to hiring volunteers to help us out with the mad Valentine rush, Alice wasn't picky. And I don't know if it was because so much time had passed that I had forgotten about Adrianna and her silent mouth, but that Sunday afternoon, made me wonder if maybe she really was jinxing me.
I was in the bathroom, blowing my nose with single-ply toilet paper, and I started to wonder what kind of people used single-ply. I mean, with all the technological advances they do to toilet paper, to make it seem more like a fluffy, cotton towel than anything else, you'd have to wonder what of people lived in that house. And the best way to find out? The medicine cabinet. Unfortunately, besides a couple of razors and a bottle of Children's Motrin, the only interesting thing I could find was a bottle of vicodin, filled with tiny pebbles. So I left, but not before flushing my used tissue down the toilet. But it didn't go down.
Instead, more water came up, along with a small, round, quarter-size thing of...poop! It was Adrianna's! She had used the bathroom before me, and I guess all the toilet paper I used to make my own quilted, triple-ply, plugged the toilet or something because out popped a poop. Immediately I tried using a plunger, but during mid-pump, the orange rubber tore in half! I didn't know what to do, and neither did half my friends, who just laughed and laughed at my unlucky, misfortune when I called them, asking for help. I had no choice but just to wait for the water level to go down, which took a good thirty minutes and by that time it was hard to convince everybody, including the queens, that I wasn't doing what they thought I was doing, in the bathroom. And it was all Adrianna's fault. I had to get her back.
Valentines Day at a flower shop is the equivalent to being in the winner stall at the Kentucky Derby. From sun-up to sun-down, we were one busy little shop of flowers. People kept coming in, spending insane amounts of money, trying to buy the love and affection of their Valentine with roses, chocolates, cheesy Mylar balloons, basically anything with a heart. It was enough to make you sick, but it made me happy, because with all the hours I accumulated, I totally made bank on my paycheck. And though I had spent every waking moment of the past week, getting ready for this day, and was beyond exhausted, somewhere down the day, I was kinda happy that I was making other people happy with my flowers. Hell, I was probably gonna be responsible for the procreation of a whole new generation. It was actually turning out to be a good day.
And it got even better that night, after we closed. Alice wanted to take us all out for Chinese, and oddly enough, everyone accepted the invitation, but me. Guess I was the only one with real Valentine dinner plans. But on the way to my Valentine plans, I got a phone call from Alice, asking me if Adrianna had remembered to bring a dozen roses for her friend Anthony. She didn't. And since I was closer to the shop, Adrianna asked if I could just bring some roses. Which I did. But I brought a bouquet, instead of an arrangement, which did not please either Adrianna or Alice. But I didn't care. I finally got Adrianna back. And it was that satisfactory alone, that made working at a flower shop during Valentines all worth it. Of course, my Valentine date with Colette made it worth it too, but that's another story for another time.
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