It was odd for me to work during the week, but I was asked if I could help Mindy out at the shop on Tuesday. Running extremely late (probably the latest yet), my commute should have only taken six minutes; however, timing and traffic made it more like twenty.
Due to my late departure from home, I unexpectedly ran into the local elementary school's dismissal of the children. I not only had to slow down to turtle-mode but I also stopped to let the long convoy of buses out; it was the right thing to do to keep them on schedule.
Then I waited at the red light. As the light finally turned green, I had to wait for the car in front of me to turn left. I got through the light only to get stopped by one of the school buses (that I let out, by the way) that was unloading kids from school. The wait seemed forever and I was getting a little impatient because there were no kids getting off of the bus. But then sure enough, this little girl with obvious physical handicaps (thick metal leg braces and two canes) came out from the front of the bus and slowly walked across the street with her mom. Bless her heart...curse mine.
The flow of traffic started moving again, but only about a hundred yards due to the red light at the square.
After the light cycled and turned green again I was only minutes away now, as long as no further obstacles hindered me from getting to work. After I parked the car, I high-tailed it up the back steps and into work, hoping Mindy wouldn't notice just how late I was.
As I scurried past the dressing rooms I took note that they were empty, so chances that Mindy wasn't busy(and didn't need my help right away) were pretty good. The store was quiet except I heard Mindy's voice and I assumed she was talking on the phone. However, I discovered she wasn't alone when I walked in on her and a customer.
It wasn't an awkward interruption. The conversation looked like it was coming to an end, any way. I walked in to hear the girl thanking Mindy for listening to her. She said that she really needed someone to talk to; someone who would understand. I, not even knowing what the conversation was about, smiled and announced that Mindy was the perfect person for that. She really was.
As the girl left, I caught a good glimpse of her face. Pale, flat...lifeless. And sad. Very sad. The front door chimed as she walked out and back into the world. Mindy let out a big sigh and proceeded to tell me about her encounter with this girl. The girl's name was Carrie and she had come in to see if we bought wedding dresses. She told Mindy that her fiance had walked out on her and her two children so she didn't need the dress anymore. She shared with Mindy a very sad and tragic story that she obviously felt comfortable telling Mindy.
Mindy recounted to me the events of this girl's life; sexually abused by her father until she was fifteen, her mother blaming her for it all. Her brother is in prison for attempting to kill their father for what he did to his sister. Then more molestation by other men, one being the stepdad she now lives with along with her two kids. The pain digs deeper with the knowledge that her 10 month old daughter has a rare blood disease that will eventually kill her.
She told Mindy that she did have a case worker who strongly suggested that she move out of her current living situation and into one of the women and children shelters in Harrisburg. She then confessed that she didn't know what to do; she felt like their was no hope for her. She even had begun to explore religion and faith, searching for answers.
And that opened the door for Mindy to share her story. Mindy had told me that as Carrie was sharing her life with her, she was having difficulty finding words to say to this poor soul. All she could do was listen. Let me tell you something about Mindy. She never...EVER...is at a loss for words. But when Carrie had revealed that she was open to hearing about faith, Mindy said that she suddenly felt empowered...led... to open up and share her own story of her time in darkness.
Rewind to two weeks ago. Apparently, Miss Mindy openly and boldly prayed for God to bring into her life hurting people who needed someone to listen to them. She then could share with them her own life experience and how she is the way she is because of what God had done for her. She wanted the opportunity to share hope with the hopeless, just as someone did with her.
That's the beauty of Mindy as well as the other women in the shop. They're accepting without being judgemental and that allows God to love others through them. There is no hidden agenda with them; they just know, from their own experience, the pain of being in darkness. But they also know of the redemptive power of a loving God who reached down himself and pulled them back into the light. And that's why I'm finding my way out of the dark...because these lovely ladies were kind enough to throw me a miner's cap and some rope to save me from my own loneliness and isolation. And with that, I'm open to trusting again, because I trust them.
God can redeem and restore someone without our help. It's just that he is a relational God and by working through us, we have relationship with him and fellowship with one another. That's how he rolls, I'm finding out.
Back to Mindy's debriefing at the shop. When she was done telling me about her incredible encounter with this girl, I apologized for being extremely late. Mindy looked at me and told me that it was totally ok because she prayed the whole time that no one would come in and disrupt their conversation. So, with my delay of 20 minutes, Mindy had almost two hours of uninterrupted time with this girl.
Hence all my obstacles keeping me from getting to work on time. God moved heaven and earth to prevent me from coming in any earlier because he knew that I would not be as therapeutic as his darling Mindy. I'm my own 'work-in-progress' and I seem to be struggling with cynacism. First, I would have had a hard time believing the girl's sob story, thinking that she was scamming us for money. Secondly, I would have chided her for not doing all she could to protect her children. I would have tried to "fix" her situation.
And that's why God kept me out of the equation. This beautiful child of his needed someone to listen to her.
She didn't need me trying to fix her; only God can do that. Through Mindy, God ministered to this girl, showing her a glimpse of hope and light, even if just for a short time.
The next time Mindy and I worked together, she told me that the day after meeting this girl, she had had this overwhelming feeling of being overwhelmed. She admitted that she didn't think she could help this girl. She had promised to research some things about faith for her and get back to her, perhaps meet with her again. Mindy was even hoping to invite her to church eventually. Now, Mindy was afraid that she bit off more than she could chew.
I laughed and reminded Mindy that she had PRAYED for this and that she was created for this kind of stuff. She didn't have to worry about the outcome; that's God's job. All she had to do was what she was already doing...being there for others, listening to them, letting them know that she doesn't have all the answers but she'll be there with them, praying them through.
And what Mindy prays for...Mindy gets.
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Friday, June 10, 2011
The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...America's Next Top Model...not so much.
Since it was after Memorial Day, I ventured out to work in my new white linen capris that I bought myself from the Ann Taylor Outlet the other day. I mention this for two reasons: one, I'm gaining more confidence in expanding my wardrobe possibilities and two, I'm actually fitting into Ann Taylor stuff. That's huge. Heck, it's monumental in my book.
You see, I just always assumed that I could never fit into clothing at that kind of store, so I never tried things on there. Well, this week I got to experience some pay-offs from my Zack-attacks at the gym and now I must work to pay off the results of my pay-offs, if you know what I mean.
So I strut in to the shop, in my crisp white capris(which blended in nicely with my pastey white legs), a navy blue batik tank and yellow cardigan. I had on one of my big bright flower pins for which Nancy, our seamstress, calls me "boss" because of her days at Gimble's in Philly where all the floor managers wore flowers on their lapels.
Today, I was sporting a bright yellow flower pin which complimented my cardigan very well. Now, there is a clip beneath the pin part of the pin so I could wear it in my hair if I wanted to. I opted out of this style because I felt like I should walk around with a ukulele, singing "Tiny Bubbles" and welcoming everyone with "Aloha...ahuke mauke tauke mona luau." All that was needed was a skewered roasted pig, some pineapple and a couple of lit tiki torches, to complete my Pacific oasis.
As if on a cat-walk, I modeled my colorful little outfit down the runway(aka the hall), stopping to strike a pose at customers and letting them know that I fit into Ann Taylor now. "You see my capris?...Ann Taylor...yeah, I fit into them."
Usually with confidence (about something in my life) humility follows right behind to remind me of what an idiot I really am. Today, it came in the form of tummy control panties whose waistband decided to fold over on itself. This caused a rather large dollop of belly flab to spill out, pushing my capris down low onto my hips and making me look all 'gansta'-like, which was not the look I was going for at all today.
In junior high, I had this English teacher who always wore polyester pants with a baggy butt. There was nothing to fill out his backside and rumor had it that he got his butt shot off in 'Nam. Now, thirty years later, I'm sporting the same look. Sigh.
I doctored the problem with a safety pin and hoisted the waistband of the key element of my ensemble back up to my waist. I regained most of my composure and headed to the front of the store to escort a young bride-to-be back to a fitting room. She was here for her second and last fitting before her wedding next week. Months ago, she had bought her gown from our discount rack. When she came in for her first fitting a month ago, we could not zip up her dress; there was about four inches of skin separating both sides of the zipper. And there was not enough extra material to fix the problem. She was going to try to lose weight before her final fitting.
She came back today, with a corset from her Renaissance Fair wench outfit (don't ask). She said that it was suppose to cut seven inches off of her waist. Poor girl, it didn't help her at all. She was to be married in one week and didn't fit into her dress. The owners called a seamstress who designs dresses and she was willing to see the girl right away.
I don't know what the outcome was, but I hope it worked out. It seemed that wardrobe malfunctions were the theme for the day as I found out while working with a grandmother who needed to find a dress for her grandchild's wedding. She found a beautiful bluish-grey long gown that she liked very much. The funny thing was that even though it fit her very well, she pointed out (literally) that her boobs were down on her stomach and the bra pads (that were sewn into the dress) were way up at her collar bone. She kept pushing in the pads and laughing. She soon had me laughing too, as I hiked up my capris again.
The day ended with me rescuing a vanity panel from a bride's crack. The panel had slipped sideways down over the girl's butt crack and I had to delicately maneuver my finger under the panel and work it back up into it's rightful position underneath the corset lacing. It was like a freaking game of "Operation"; I had to perform the task without poking my finger into her crack, which was barely covered by a neon green thong.
As sweat beaded down my nose, I was able to fix the issue without any skin contact. After wiping away the perspiration from my face and hiking up my capris again, it was time to close the shop. Well, it was close to 4pm (closing time) but a bride who had an appointment at 3pm decided to mosey on in at 3:30. Oh well, who cares if we're inconvenienced. Four o'clock came and went and we were still at the shop. Mindy let me go after the chores were done, while she stayed to work with the bride (who ended up not buying anything anyway).
I pulled up my capris, pulled down my tank and adjusted my sweater one last time before leaving. I was headed home for a wardrobe change, knowing that my tummy control undies were headed for the trash. And the next day, I was headed to the mall for some SPANX.
You see, I just always assumed that I could never fit into clothing at that kind of store, so I never tried things on there. Well, this week I got to experience some pay-offs from my Zack-attacks at the gym and now I must work to pay off the results of my pay-offs, if you know what I mean.
So I strut in to the shop, in my crisp white capris(which blended in nicely with my pastey white legs), a navy blue batik tank and yellow cardigan. I had on one of my big bright flower pins for which Nancy, our seamstress, calls me "boss" because of her days at Gimble's in Philly where all the floor managers wore flowers on their lapels.
Today, I was sporting a bright yellow flower pin which complimented my cardigan very well. Now, there is a clip beneath the pin part of the pin so I could wear it in my hair if I wanted to. I opted out of this style because I felt like I should walk around with a ukulele, singing "Tiny Bubbles" and welcoming everyone with "Aloha...ahuke mauke tauke mona luau." All that was needed was a skewered roasted pig, some pineapple and a couple of lit tiki torches, to complete my Pacific oasis.
As if on a cat-walk, I modeled my colorful little outfit down the runway(aka the hall), stopping to strike a pose at customers and letting them know that I fit into Ann Taylor now. "You see my capris?...Ann Taylor...yeah, I fit into them."
Usually with confidence (about something in my life) humility follows right behind to remind me of what an idiot I really am. Today, it came in the form of tummy control panties whose waistband decided to fold over on itself. This caused a rather large dollop of belly flab to spill out, pushing my capris down low onto my hips and making me look all 'gansta'-like, which was not the look I was going for at all today.
In junior high, I had this English teacher who always wore polyester pants with a baggy butt. There was nothing to fill out his backside and rumor had it that he got his butt shot off in 'Nam. Now, thirty years later, I'm sporting the same look. Sigh.
I doctored the problem with a safety pin and hoisted the waistband of the key element of my ensemble back up to my waist. I regained most of my composure and headed to the front of the store to escort a young bride-to-be back to a fitting room. She was here for her second and last fitting before her wedding next week. Months ago, she had bought her gown from our discount rack. When she came in for her first fitting a month ago, we could not zip up her dress; there was about four inches of skin separating both sides of the zipper. And there was not enough extra material to fix the problem. She was going to try to lose weight before her final fitting.
She came back today, with a corset from her Renaissance Fair wench outfit (don't ask). She said that it was suppose to cut seven inches off of her waist. Poor girl, it didn't help her at all. She was to be married in one week and didn't fit into her dress. The owners called a seamstress who designs dresses and she was willing to see the girl right away.
I don't know what the outcome was, but I hope it worked out. It seemed that wardrobe malfunctions were the theme for the day as I found out while working with a grandmother who needed to find a dress for her grandchild's wedding. She found a beautiful bluish-grey long gown that she liked very much. The funny thing was that even though it fit her very well, she pointed out (literally) that her boobs were down on her stomach and the bra pads (that were sewn into the dress) were way up at her collar bone. She kept pushing in the pads and laughing. She soon had me laughing too, as I hiked up my capris again.
The day ended with me rescuing a vanity panel from a bride's crack. The panel had slipped sideways down over the girl's butt crack and I had to delicately maneuver my finger under the panel and work it back up into it's rightful position underneath the corset lacing. It was like a freaking game of "Operation"; I had to perform the task without poking my finger into her crack, which was barely covered by a neon green thong.
As sweat beaded down my nose, I was able to fix the issue without any skin contact. After wiping away the perspiration from my face and hiking up my capris again, it was time to close the shop. Well, it was close to 4pm (closing time) but a bride who had an appointment at 3pm decided to mosey on in at 3:30. Oh well, who cares if we're inconvenienced. Four o'clock came and went and we were still at the shop. Mindy let me go after the chores were done, while she stayed to work with the bride (who ended up not buying anything anyway).
I pulled up my capris, pulled down my tank and adjusted my sweater one last time before leaving. I was headed home for a wardrobe change, knowing that my tummy control undies were headed for the trash. And the next day, I was headed to the mall for some SPANX.
Thursday, June 2, 2011
The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...You win some, you lose some.
Even though the highlight of my bridal shop experience so far was definitely the sunny day that Gloria and Michael waltzed in through the door and into our hearts, I will have to say that the icing on the cake was when the co-owner later that day, presented me with my name tag.
Yep, it's official; I am now a "bridal associate" of The Bridal Emporium. At least that's what it says on the tag. I noticed that it didn't say "sales associate"; it's probably because of my lack of math skills and inability to figure out discount percentages. Any way, the owners saw fit to consider me a valued member of their team and crowned me an official staff member. Now, I could come into work the next Saturday proudly displaying my name and my position to prospective customers and valued clients. In reality though, all the tag really does is let people know "yeah, I work here."
The next Saturday, unfortunately, did not start out as glorious as the Saturday before did. It started out with Cliff, my husband, asking me "don't you have to work at ten?" I opened my sleepy eyes to see "9:34am" on the clock radio next to my bed and Cliff hovering over me. Crap. I flung myself out of bed and got dressed as fast as I could. My hair was a mess (shocker there) and I only made it worse by rubbing some anti-frizz stuff into it and then adding a coat of hairspray, so that the shine of my hair grease was now permanently cemented in for the day.
I didn't get to eat my keeps-me-regular-with 10gms of fiber-kashi cereal with fresh blueberries or have my token cup of coffee. Usually this would not be a problem because the owner always brought in food and snacks for us. But she was not in due to having surgery two weeks ago, so no food in the fridge. Good thing I threw a pack of cheese and crackers and two tasty-cake coffee cakes into my purse before I left. Breakfast of champions...not...but it tamed the rumbly in my tummy for a little while.
Late as usual, I headed to the front of the store to check in and give the owner yet another excuse as to why I was late this time. As I briskly walked passed a dressing room, I saw Nancy, our seamstress, with a frazzled look on her face as she worked with a woman in a mother-of-the-bride dress. I wouldn't have thought anything about it except for the ice cold mist of tension that blew out as I walked by.
When I got to the front desk, I saw the same exasperated look on the co-owner's face. She explained to me that Nancy was attempting to meet the needs of this woman, who apparently admitted straight out that her life was a mess. Apparently there were tears and a lot of gloomy talk from Nancy's client.
You have to understand something about Nancy. She, being a seamstress, and a very good one at that, is very task-oriented. She's not a bartender or counselor who has time to hold someone's hand while they tell her how miserable they are. Nancy just wants direction, to be told what is needed of her so she can stick her pins into it, that's it. I did hear from Katie, another bridal associate, that Nancy did her best to cheer the woman up, trying to make jokes to liven up the mood. The woman was just one nut that wouldn't crack.
Apparently, this woman bought the dress and extra material to add to the bustline, for a more modest look. She was told by the owner that that wouldn't be a problem and that Nancy would be able to alter the look. Today, it turned out that the woman was unhappy because she felt that Nancy should have known what to do with the dress without this lady giving her any direction. In other words, Nancy should have been able to look at the dress and change it without knowing what the client wanted. "Where there is no vision, the people perish." (Proverbs 29:18). Well on this day, with no direction, the dress perishes.
When it was all said and done, the woman originally left the dress with Nancy to be altered, but then later came back in to pick it up because she felt uncomfortable throughout the whole appointment and she was told it was going to be an easy fix, but somehow it turned into something more complicated. Yeah, lady it turned out complicated because you made it that way. Wanting someone to make your dress into your dream dress without telling that person what that dress would look like, is just plain crazy. And Criss Angel
mindfreak only performs in Vegas, not in our store.
Our owner ended up giving her the name of another seamstress who actually makes dresses. Instead of a thank you, the woman had the nerve to say to the owner "why didn't you just give me her name in the first place?" I wanted to respond with "well, why don't you just get out of our lives and shut up?!" (Thanks Napoleon Dynamite for that brillant line). Of course, I said it to myself as I hid in the other section of the store so I didn't have to deal with the woman myself. That's management's job; I'm just a bridal associate. I deal enough with unhappy, cranky people at my real job. Here, I'm just a grunt.
I will have to let you know that a month earlier, the owner had worked for hours with this woman helping her pick out a dress. The owner was kind and caring and compassionate, like she and her daughter always are, but this woman was a miserable mess from the get go. It makes you wonder what happened to this woman to make her so unhappy. I hope she allows someone into her life to help her out of her misery. Not to be confused with "put" her out of her misery, mind you.
With the tension of the earlier event sliced, diced and gone now, the overall mood of the shop improved. I enjoyed working with a mother of the groom, assisting her in finding a dress. She really didn't need much help since she knew exactly what she wanted and found it. It was an elegant black taffeta dress that had diagonal rouching at the waist, creating a gorgeous hour-glass figure for her. It had a sleek 3/4 sleeve length bolero with a pointy collar, giving her a regal appearance. She looked hot. And she knew it too. However, even after all the praises I gave her she had to ask Katie her opinion because Katie could offer her a "young" person's perspective. Ouch.
This lady tried on some other dresses just in case and found a brown chiffon dress with a crystal-hemmed jacket. She really liked it and was torn between this one and the black one. I did not like the dress on her. It made her look dowdy and as if she was going to throw rose petals on the floor, light a bunch of candles, and then leave a note for her husband telling him to meet her in the bedroom. But guess what? I kept my comments to myself. I just didn't want to spoil her moment; she really liked herself in it. I did breathe a sigh of relief though, when she settled on the black taffeta dress that she wanted in the first place. I handed her over to the owner who sealed the deal. This lovely lady left happy with her choice of dress as well as choice of store in which to purchase it.
The day winded down with an attempt to work with a bride who kept pushing her appointment back and then once she got there, she told me what she was looking for, gave me a budget and then disappeared downstairs with her mom and sister to look at bridesmaid's dresses. Katie and I pulled a variety of dresses well within her price range. The room was all ready for her, but she never tried any on.
I went downstairs to nudge her back up (for her appointment that she had made), but got the feeling that she was just hiding out down there. She eventually came up and I just had that feeling that she was going to leave. I asked her if she was leaving and she said yes. I did tell her that we picked out dresses within her budget. She told me, Katie and the owner that she didn't really see anything that she liked...she actually found three "beautiful" dresses elsewhere and wanted to see if she could find something to top any of them here at our store. Finally, a little honesty from this shady little redhead.
She thanked us and then left. She didn't even have the courtesy to go back and look at the dresses that Katie and I had picked out for her. I did hear myself saying "ok, well thanks for coming in anyway."
The day ended with tux fittings for some young guys who were going to be in their high school friend's wedding. Here, the bride, the groom and the rest of the groomsmen all grew up within blocks of each other. They all knew each other well and as they waited to get measured, they joked around and teased the bride, as if she were their sister. They were a happy group of guys who loved each other and were definitely the kind of friends that would be friends for the rest of their lives. That was going to be one fun reception, if you know what I mean.
I did my chores and then took off my name tag, leaving it on the shelf at the desk so as not to lose it. I would hate to accidently put that on for my real job and then wear my badge at this one. That will happen one day I'm sure.
I can't really tell if the day was truly a bad day or good day. It had it's ups and downs, just like life I guess. In this game called business, I'm learning that 'winning some and losing some' is par for the course. I'm just glad that I don't get paid by commission.
Yep, it's official; I am now a "bridal associate" of The Bridal Emporium. At least that's what it says on the tag. I noticed that it didn't say "sales associate"; it's probably because of my lack of math skills and inability to figure out discount percentages. Any way, the owners saw fit to consider me a valued member of their team and crowned me an official staff member. Now, I could come into work the next Saturday proudly displaying my name and my position to prospective customers and valued clients. In reality though, all the tag really does is let people know "yeah, I work here."
The next Saturday, unfortunately, did not start out as glorious as the Saturday before did. It started out with Cliff, my husband, asking me "don't you have to work at ten?" I opened my sleepy eyes to see "9:34am" on the clock radio next to my bed and Cliff hovering over me. Crap. I flung myself out of bed and got dressed as fast as I could. My hair was a mess (shocker there) and I only made it worse by rubbing some anti-frizz stuff into it and then adding a coat of hairspray, so that the shine of my hair grease was now permanently cemented in for the day.
I didn't get to eat my keeps-me-regular-with 10gms of fiber-kashi cereal with fresh blueberries or have my token cup of coffee. Usually this would not be a problem because the owner always brought in food and snacks for us. But she was not in due to having surgery two weeks ago, so no food in the fridge. Good thing I threw a pack of cheese and crackers and two tasty-cake coffee cakes into my purse before I left. Breakfast of champions...not...but it tamed the rumbly in my tummy for a little while.
Late as usual, I headed to the front of the store to check in and give the owner yet another excuse as to why I was late this time. As I briskly walked passed a dressing room, I saw Nancy, our seamstress, with a frazzled look on her face as she worked with a woman in a mother-of-the-bride dress. I wouldn't have thought anything about it except for the ice cold mist of tension that blew out as I walked by.
When I got to the front desk, I saw the same exasperated look on the co-owner's face. She explained to me that Nancy was attempting to meet the needs of this woman, who apparently admitted straight out that her life was a mess. Apparently there were tears and a lot of gloomy talk from Nancy's client.
You have to understand something about Nancy. She, being a seamstress, and a very good one at that, is very task-oriented. She's not a bartender or counselor who has time to hold someone's hand while they tell her how miserable they are. Nancy just wants direction, to be told what is needed of her so she can stick her pins into it, that's it. I did hear from Katie, another bridal associate, that Nancy did her best to cheer the woman up, trying to make jokes to liven up the mood. The woman was just one nut that wouldn't crack.
Apparently, this woman bought the dress and extra material to add to the bustline, for a more modest look. She was told by the owner that that wouldn't be a problem and that Nancy would be able to alter the look. Today, it turned out that the woman was unhappy because she felt that Nancy should have known what to do with the dress without this lady giving her any direction. In other words, Nancy should have been able to look at the dress and change it without knowing what the client wanted. "Where there is no vision, the people perish." (Proverbs 29:18). Well on this day, with no direction, the dress perishes.
When it was all said and done, the woman originally left the dress with Nancy to be altered, but then later came back in to pick it up because she felt uncomfortable throughout the whole appointment and she was told it was going to be an easy fix, but somehow it turned into something more complicated. Yeah, lady it turned out complicated because you made it that way. Wanting someone to make your dress into your dream dress without telling that person what that dress would look like, is just plain crazy. And Criss Angel
mindfreak only performs in Vegas, not in our store.
Our owner ended up giving her the name of another seamstress who actually makes dresses. Instead of a thank you, the woman had the nerve to say to the owner "why didn't you just give me her name in the first place?" I wanted to respond with "well, why don't you just get out of our lives and shut up?!" (Thanks Napoleon Dynamite for that brillant line). Of course, I said it to myself as I hid in the other section of the store so I didn't have to deal with the woman myself. That's management's job; I'm just a bridal associate. I deal enough with unhappy, cranky people at my real job. Here, I'm just a grunt.
I will have to let you know that a month earlier, the owner had worked for hours with this woman helping her pick out a dress. The owner was kind and caring and compassionate, like she and her daughter always are, but this woman was a miserable mess from the get go. It makes you wonder what happened to this woman to make her so unhappy. I hope she allows someone into her life to help her out of her misery. Not to be confused with "put" her out of her misery, mind you.
With the tension of the earlier event sliced, diced and gone now, the overall mood of the shop improved. I enjoyed working with a mother of the groom, assisting her in finding a dress. She really didn't need much help since she knew exactly what she wanted and found it. It was an elegant black taffeta dress that had diagonal rouching at the waist, creating a gorgeous hour-glass figure for her. It had a sleek 3/4 sleeve length bolero with a pointy collar, giving her a regal appearance. She looked hot. And she knew it too. However, even after all the praises I gave her she had to ask Katie her opinion because Katie could offer her a "young" person's perspective. Ouch.
This lady tried on some other dresses just in case and found a brown chiffon dress with a crystal-hemmed jacket. She really liked it and was torn between this one and the black one. I did not like the dress on her. It made her look dowdy and as if she was going to throw rose petals on the floor, light a bunch of candles, and then leave a note for her husband telling him to meet her in the bedroom. But guess what? I kept my comments to myself. I just didn't want to spoil her moment; she really liked herself in it. I did breathe a sigh of relief though, when she settled on the black taffeta dress that she wanted in the first place. I handed her over to the owner who sealed the deal. This lovely lady left happy with her choice of dress as well as choice of store in which to purchase it.
The day winded down with an attempt to work with a bride who kept pushing her appointment back and then once she got there, she told me what she was looking for, gave me a budget and then disappeared downstairs with her mom and sister to look at bridesmaid's dresses. Katie and I pulled a variety of dresses well within her price range. The room was all ready for her, but she never tried any on.
I went downstairs to nudge her back up (for her appointment that she had made), but got the feeling that she was just hiding out down there. She eventually came up and I just had that feeling that she was going to leave. I asked her if she was leaving and she said yes. I did tell her that we picked out dresses within her budget. She told me, Katie and the owner that she didn't really see anything that she liked...she actually found three "beautiful" dresses elsewhere and wanted to see if she could find something to top any of them here at our store. Finally, a little honesty from this shady little redhead.
She thanked us and then left. She didn't even have the courtesy to go back and look at the dresses that Katie and I had picked out for her. I did hear myself saying "ok, well thanks for coming in anyway."
The day ended with tux fittings for some young guys who were going to be in their high school friend's wedding. Here, the bride, the groom and the rest of the groomsmen all grew up within blocks of each other. They all knew each other well and as they waited to get measured, they joked around and teased the bride, as if she were their sister. They were a happy group of guys who loved each other and were definitely the kind of friends that would be friends for the rest of their lives. That was going to be one fun reception, if you know what I mean.
I did my chores and then took off my name tag, leaving it on the shelf at the desk so as not to lose it. I would hate to accidently put that on for my real job and then wear my badge at this one. That will happen one day I'm sure.
I can't really tell if the day was truly a bad day or good day. It had it's ups and downs, just like life I guess. In this game called business, I'm learning that 'winning some and losing some' is par for the course. I'm just glad that I don't get paid by commission.
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