The Train Station...(aka The Bridal Diaries)...Bridezilla.

I had my first encounter with a bridezilla two weeks ago.  It was a Sunday, and as usual, I was late.  When I walked in, I noticed that one of the dressing rooms had dresses in it, so I knew we had an appointment.  Well, I mean someone else had the appointment because of course, I was late.

As I walked up to the desk, I noticed a women looking at prom dresses.  I asked if she needed any help and she told me she was here with her daughter, looking for a bridal gown.  She was waiting for her to come out of the dressing room.

She had told me that the ceremony would be at their church and the reception would be at a country club.
She was nice; didn't seem snooty or demanding at all.  I had a good feeling about her.

But not about her daughter who had just walked out of the dressing room. 

Something wasn't right and I had confirmation from the co-owner's facial expression as she followed the bride out.  Mary Ann looked as if all the color had drained from her face.  She looked miserable.

Beth, another associate working that day, pulled me aside in the other room and filled me in on what was going on.  She said that the mother was wonderful, really patient and kind.  The bride, on the other hand, was a b*@#! who was really giving Mary Ann a hard time.

She had brought in pictures of dresses from the designers that we carry, but didn't realize that we don't carry every single one of a designer's dresses.  Mary Ann had picked out several dresses that were similar in style to the ones the bride had wanted to try on, but the bride had nasty comments about all of them.

When Beth had relayed to me how mean and rude the bride was being to Mary Ann, my protective instincts kicked in and I stepped in.  Literally, I walked right in front of Mary Ann and took over the appointment.  No way in the world was I going to let anyone mess with one of the nicest and dearest people in the world to me.

Although it's an unwritten rule in sales to NOT steal a client away from another associate, I felt a rescue was needed at this point.  Nobody was going to come onto our turf and push us around.  I was in thug mode.  Recent events in my life had brought that quality out in me, unfortunately.  Plus, I knew I could explain my sudden maneuver later.

Apparently my slick move was not offensive but rather much welcomed in the eyes of Mary Ann and she gladly stepped back and out of the way as I started to pretend to care about this little bridezilla.

While I re-inforced Mary Ann's choice of gown that this little brat didn't like, I simply stated that this dress did not express who she really was.  She seemed pleased with my assessment of the situation and led the way back to the dressing room.

Behind the closed door, the girl thanked me and asked if I wouldn't mind working with her instead of Mary Ann.  I smiled and told her that I would love to help her.  Help her out of her dress and out of the store.
She proceeded to tell me what she was looking for; something with a lot of bling and that showed off all of her wonderful curves.  She had to have a dress that showed off her boobs and her butt!  Her words, not mine.

Oh my.  Someone needed a reality check and it wasn't me.  Here I was looking a girl with no make up on with damp hair pulled up into a bun, with no chest (that I could see) and absolutely no hips or butt.  At least not like JLo, whom I think she thought she was.

My first impression was a test tube.  Not that she was perfected in one, but rather she was shaped like one.  And she had nothing visibly displayed that shouted BLING.  Her mother had more bling and make up on than she did.  I thought that if you were to slap a black smock over a dark purple shirt on this girl, she could easily hop in a buggy and pass for Amish...that's how plain she was.

After she had given me her stipulations, she then told me that she would not be trying on any of the dresses that Mary Ann had picked out for her.  I had to pull some other gowns for her, but she was so caught up in her unrealistic image of herself that nothing really pleased her.  There was one that she liked, her mother liked, it looked good on her, but she, in her snotty way, never really acknowledged that this was THE dress for her.  Sigh.

Having to contend with that kind of attitude plus the fact that she had been rude and mean to her mother throughout the entire visit, pushed me to my limit.  This behavior had gone on long enough and I thought so did the appointment, so I ended it.  I kindly instructed her to get dressed and left the room.  That was that.  I had had it.   There was nothing here that would please her except little oompa loompas running after her, kissing her butt...if they could find it.  Oops, did I say that out loud?

She was prepared to just leave the store without any information about the dress that she did like.  Seriously?  After all that time that I spent with you, giving you the royal treatment, you are going to leave with a simple "thank you and goodbye?"

Then it hit me.  This is how she conducts her life.  She is the queen and everyone else is just staff.  It turns out that this was the 6th or 7th bridal store that she had been to with no perfect dress to suit her demands.

When I found out that her pursuit for the blinged-out accentuating her so-called boobs and butt dress had been a lengthy one, I actually felt better.  I knew that we were not the problem, she was.

There's something to be said about a bride who, dress after dress, still cannot find one.  Maybe she needs to look within herself to find true beauty instead of the imaginary self she seems to see in the mirror.