A Jones Family Christmas

Last weekend I went out to my beloved Boone Hall to take portraits of my most beloved boss. I’ve told you how much I loved my boss at the hotel (her name is Elizabeth) and that I will force her to remain friends with me forever. Three years ago, she got married at Boone Hall and has her favorite wedding picture in front of the Avenue of Oaks as the background on her computer. She just loves Boone Hall.

After she had baby Charlotte back in April she voiced a deep, longing desire to have family portraits made at Boone Hall right where they got married. This seems easy enough except for one thing. Boone Hall has a lot of requirements (and a really hefty price tag) for having photoshoots on the property. So much so, that 95% of photographers in Charleston don’t do shoots at Boone Hall.

“Let me make some calls.” I smugly told Elizabeth with one eyebrow raised. Insert here my Mexican Loves (and another beloved boss of mine, aptly named Laura) and I was able smuggle us into the happiest place on earth and take the first ever family portraits of the new Jones family. I’m truly honored.

Probably Elizabeth wouldn’t want me plastering these photos on the interwebs. She’s kind of anti-social media (doesn’t she sound great!) and doesn’t like people staring at her or minding her business. I’m choosing to ignore her preferences because I’m really excited about her pictures. Other than stealing candid shots of family and friends, I’ve never shot ‘subjets’ I’m close to personally and it’s surprisingly different. Normally I’m looking at lots of things. How are they standing? Are there hairs out of place? Are they slouching? and I direct these people to look their best and stand at flattering angles. They are objects for me to style.

In this case, I thought everything baby Charlotte did was adorable when I would normally have stood waiting around for the baby to look the right way. I thought Elizabeth looked so beautiful bouncing Charlotte up and down when I would usually wait for a person to stand still. Little things you see. I thought Brent looked most endearing when he was watching Elizabeth and Charlotte instead of looking straight at my camera and smiling. It was hard to be critical because I love them too much. They also brought their pup, Ella, who dutifully sat where they told her to and only once became distracted by an enormous stick that she stabbed a little boy with.

The other thing that made this great was Brent and Elizabeth’s laid-back and lighthearted dispositions. When Charlotte put the Christmas lights in her mouth and bit down, they did not rush to her rescue. Instead they stood behind me making electric shock noises and laughing at the caliber of the other one’s quick “ddzziitt” sound.

(*Editors note. They are great parents. The lights were run on batteries and were not plugged into an electrical power source. Please do not call child services.)

Government

In a notion completely unrelated to my and Hilary Clinton's political views and where they do and do not overlap, I was distraught by the idea that if Hilary won I would have to completely restructure my most effective pick-up line;              I haven't thrown up since the Clinton Administration. Hilary would have really thrown off my game.
In honor of our upstanding and flawlessly engineered government system, I'll tell you a really long story about state and local government requirements.

There once was an obnoxiously content girl from South Carolina. She had long dark hair, a bashful disposition, and very large front teeth. Her name was Laura. After years of abuse and neglect Laura decided to bring happiness to her small, Yankee filled Southern town by opening a flower business. She would decorate weddings, encourage brides on the brink of meltdowns, and sell flowers by the stem. She did market research, created a business plan, and set off to make things happen. The first thing she did was acquire a business license from a beautiful woman named Iona who works for the city's licensing bureau. Iona was helpful and friendly and sent Laura off feeling hopeful and wrought with power and thus Laura was open for business.
One month later, Laura learned from an online business forum (can you believe she reads those?) that the State of South Carolina requires almost all business to also have a retail license, for tax purposes. While filing taxes is very important to Laura, she did not understand why her business license "for retail services" was not enough to file taxes with but since she's afraid of going to prison, she set off for another retail license, just in case, for Laura would last two minutes on her own in prison. No doubt she would wander those cement hallways holding on to another woman's pocket liner.

So she Googled and Googled and could find no clear way to get a retail license. Everything led her to one particular government website. A South Carolina tax filing website. Nothing on this site ever mentioned retail licenses and the only page of "relevant forms" would never load in her browser, or her fathers, or her friends. For two weeks she researched and tried to download the relevant forms to no avail. Her only other option was to create a login for a fifty dollar fee. She had read that a retail license costs fifty dollars and after weeks of this nonsense, she decided that creating a tax filing login for her business must be the first step. So she filled out a bunch of forms, paid the fifty dollar fee, and was granted access to the government tax website. Again she searched for a retail license form and there was no such thing. She waited one week for a piece of mail the website was sending her. She hoped it was her brand new retail license. It turned out to be a worthless piece of mail that told her that she had signed up to file taxes. This irritated Laura because she knew this already. She was there when it happened.

Back on the hunt but with a new sense of rage, Laura called the Capital. She dialed the contact number for SC taxes and it was FAKE NUMBER! Enraged, Laura bypassed all lower level employees and called the Director of SC Revenue Services in Columbia and got his surly receptionist on the phone.
"Hello." Laura said calmly, "I've been trying to get a retail license for my business in Charleston and I'm having some trouble finding the forms. Can you tell me how I can get this done?"
"We don't give out retail licenses here. We just work with taxes." Secretary responded. "You get licenses through your city.
"That sounds logical," Laura retorted, "but the city website pointed me to your tax website."
"Well I don't know why." Secretary sneered. Then there was an awkward silence. "Do you need anything else?" she asked.
"Well, I need a retail license." Laura said.
"You'll have to call your own city. Good day." and Secretary hung up. Laura was not happy. Laura nearly spilled peppermint tea in her white Morning Chair where she sits to say her prayers, make lists, and hold warm mugs of liquids first thing in the morning.

Laura went back online and found the number for City Business Services and spoke to a girl we'll call Jen. Jen talked like this? And breathed heavily into the phone a lot?
"Hi Jen, I'm trying to find out how to get a retail license. Is this something you can help me with?"
"A retail license?" Jen asked.
"Yes." Laura replied.
"Umm... I... like I'm not sure." Jen said. "I think you can get one down where they give out business licenses?"
Laura had this thought at one point too but then she thought that Iona, beautiful helpful Iona, would have definitely told Laura that she also needed a retail license and would have given her the forms for that while she was there.
"Well, I have a business license and they didn't mention a retail license." Laura said. "Can you connect me with someone who knows about this?
"Yeah for sure but like, a business license basically is a retail license right? Here's the number for the Business Bureau..."

Laura thanked Jen and dialed the new number. No one answered her call. So Laura left her cozy white Morning Chair, put on pants acceptable to wear in public, and made her way back to the Licensing Bureau. Iona wasn't there but another beautiful woman named Mary called Laura when it was her turn and Laura told Mary the whole story.
"I'm sorry to hear all that." Mary said genuinely, "But actually, we don't give out retail licenses here. You have to go to South Park Plaza in West Ashley to the Department of Revenue. They handle all other licenses. I'm really sorry." Mary said.
Laura could not be mad at Mary so she thanked her, walked back to her car and made the trek to West Ashley. Laura started to wonder if she is an idiot. Surely every business in Charleston has not done this monkey dance. Is information about retail license requirements and methods posted somewhere that she doesn't know about? She knows a number of morons that own businesses. Surely it can't be this hard?

The South Park Plaza building had no directory. Laura drove around it for seven minutes before seeing a tiny sign that said, "SCDR will be closed for Veteran's Day" on a corner window by a door. This must be it, she thought swinging open the big door. Laura had to walk through a metal detector on her way up to the teller window.
"What do you need?" an angry blonde asked her from behind the bullet-proof glass.
"Fine thanks. I need a retail license please." Laura was loosing patience for rude people.
"Do you have a business?" she asked.
No, I just thought it would look nice on the wall by my family portraits.
"I have a floral design business." Laura told her.
"Floral design?" she said raising both of her eyebrows. "What do you do then?"
"I make arrangements for weddings and events."
The blonde left her eyebrows raised as she handed Laura a yellow form and asked for her ID. Laura wondered if the idea of floral design had shocked this woman. The expression on her face suggested unfathomable awe or else a disheartening premonition that she saw the floral business go up in flames.

Laura spent ten minutes filling out forms before bringing them back up to the window. Blondie read over her forms, gave back her ID and said, "It's fifty dollars for a retail license."
Laura offered her a credit card and the blonde said, "Oh we don't take cards. Cash or money orders only."
Laura stared at her. "Well do you have an ATM?" Laura asked.
"No. But there are a few nearby. I'll run this through while you get the money." she said, pulling the form through the glass again and heading off to her desk. Laura huffed back to her car and drove to a Heritage Trust bank and the ATM was broken. She drove to a Bank of America and had to pay $3.00 to hold her own money. Laura finally made it back to the Department of Revenue with fifty dollars and when she got back in front of the window, Blondie said, "I ran this while you were gone. You already did all of this online."
"Yes." Laura told her.
"Well you don't have to do it again." Blondie said.
"The website had no information about retail licenses and never sent me one after I filled out the forms." Laura said.
Blondie shrugged and said, "Yeah Columbia won't print things out." Laura wondered what the hell that meant.
"So why do I have to pay for this again then?" Laura asked.
"You haven't paid."
"I have paid."
"It says you haven't paid."
"Just take it." Laura said pushing fifty dollars forward. Blondie took the money, wrote out a receipt, and printed Laura a retail license on light yellow government paper.
"File before the 20th of each month." Blondie shouted as the door closed behind Laura.