Am I going nuts or is that you?

So this was freaky weird. I looked at the clock, and it said 3:43. I looked again what surely seemed to be a minute later and the clock still said 3:43. I gazed upon the timepiece for what seemed to be a lifetime, and it remained at 3:43. I concluded the clock had become frozen. I couldn't resist one last look only seconds later - imagine my suprise when I saw that not only was 3:43 done and over, but the clock had seemingly given 3:44 a miss and gone straight to 3:45. I'm now scared of my obviously possessed clock.

It also occurs to me that perhaps 4 in the morning is not the wisest time to be shopping on Ebay. Too bad, that.

A New Post?

So it seems.

There really are people like that out there

I've been thinking lately about my days spent at the flower shop. People have the mistaken impression that what florists do all day is make daisy chains or something. Would that this were true. Mose of the time, a flower shop employee is dealing with the lunatic demands of the nouveau riche; all the while knowing that, no matter what, there will be nasty complaint calls to deal with. Some of our customers had extremely vivid imaginations and would conjure up, not only the most ghastly ideas for floral arrangements, but extreme conspiracy theories about how we were trying to make them look bad.

The best complaint call I ever had was in reference to an order I had only taken under duress (at Valentine's, no less). A man of dubious charm decided that nothing would do but to send a bud vase with a dead red rose, a dead white rose, and a perfect pink rose. He had dreamed up some sappy symbolism about how he and his girlfriend were, separately, like the dead roses, in that they were imperfect. But, and this is where the sap levels rise dangerously, put together they made a perfect combination, i.e. the pink rose. It was all really stupid and I told him so. I argued and argued that we, as a professional florist, could not send dead flowers intentionally. He demanded to speak to the owner, and finally after a valiant battle, said owner relented.

Well, the moron didn't convey his hidden meaning in his card message. The girlfriend called and was furious. She was, she said, the laughingstock of the office (question: who laughs at someone who gets dead roses? Who is really that cruel? Most likely, the coworkers didn't care or notice. but I digress). Only after several minutes of screaming, sobbing, and angry recriminations and threats was I able to get a word in edgewise. I explained her idiot boyfriend's thought process and then had to deal with the enraptured gushings and bleating sobs of a thoroughly snowed woman. She thought that her boyfriend was about the sweetest thing ever and couldn't believe how thoughtful and creative he was. She seemed pleased by my observation that they seemed perfect for each other (thank goodness she missed the sarcasm!), and no doubt thinks of the shop fondly.

I miss the wackos.