|I made this. Not that it's like, a big deal. But I made it. So compliment me. Now.|
What if that’s all I posted? You guys would be SO mad. Actually probably not. You’d probably be relieved. Well I’m posting more so you can all suck it.
Ok so this weekend was just … I mean … it was just. So as you all may know I work part time at a store up where I live and this weekend I was helping out our florist as it was prom for two high schools, Mothers day, and some stupid art festival. So just like, the perfect storm of crap. Like, I’m serious, it was Def Com 5 in the floral department. I don’t even know what Def Com 5 means but there were leaves, and ribbons, and Asiatic lilies flying everywhere.
Plus there was this one bitch. It took every fiber of every fiber I had within me not to throw a blown glass vase at her head. First off, she was a bitch — which I believe I mentioned. Second off (<- that sounds awkward) she had us completely redo her daughter’s corsage when it was clear that we had 12378645983 other people waiting. And third off, it takes like a good 15-20 minutes to make one of those bad boys. — NOT an easy task. And let me just tell you all the reason WHY she wanted it completely taken apart. The tiny purple flowers in the background were not facing COMPLETELY forward. Literally, they were tilted ever so slightly to the side. And THEN she had the balls to say that her daughter was waiting for her to take pictures and we needed to hurry up. Only the Lord knows how I didn’t pop the eff off on this B but I didn’t. I held my composure while thinking, “your daughter is going to be grinding to Kanye West in like, an hour and a half and isn’t going to give two shits which way her purple flowers are facing on her damn wrist.” But I said nothing and had the floral manager finish it off while I moved onto the next.
As the day winded down and the irate people began to fade into the mist, a customer waiting for her boutonnière (<- thank YOU spell check) told us she had some shopping to do but would be right back. Approximately 10 minutes later she returned to pick up her tiny floral arrangement and handed us a tray of three mocha frappuccinos (<- spell check has no spelling suggestions for that one — sorry I’m not sorry). She said it was for, “doing such a great job and putting up with bitchy people.” As we thanked her incessantly and she began to walk away from our hellish domain, I thought I heard (ever so quietly), the angels begin to sing. I could be wrong. Except I’m not. She simultaneously renewed my faith in man kind and got me jacked up on sugar. A saint, a saint.
Also, I heard that other bitch’s corsage fell apart when she put it on her daughter. I have no idea why that would have happened. Or do I? Nah, I don’t.