Tough Times

I will accompany today's rant with photos from recent dock time outings. We've been having fairytale weather, all breezy and cool, so Brett and I have been soaking up the last dock days of summers. 

Ahem, Y'all. 

It's been a tough year for the wedding crowd. There is a surplus of couples and a shortage of materials. "No problem," I say, all chipper and optimistic, "This is my one job. I will get it done." And I have been, somewhat miraculously. The thing is, all these Covid brides have their satin panties in a bunch because they had to wait an extra year to get married. They've become whiny and entitled and I promise I'm not the only one saying this. I'm in a giant forum with heaps of Charleston's wedding vendors and the stories coming out of that chat lately...

I went to a florist friend's shop to borrow some vases and it looked like a bomb had gone off in there. She had four covid reschedules for the same weekend and one of the brides found a bone to pick and was refusing to pay. "I'm already over this season," she told me. It was only week two.

My planner friends are encountering Zillas of unprecedented proportions. "Entitled" is the word we all keep coming back to. "Oh you waited an extra year to celebrate yourself? You poor thing." At the moment I'm in a duel with one of my October brides who had a meltdown when I suggested that anemone flowers may be out of season. "They probably will be available, "I told her, "but just be prepared that we may not have many to tuck into your bouquet." She and her mom riled each other up on either end of the phone call and then told me not to order anything because they couldn't imagine getting married without anemones present. "We planned the whole wedding around having anemones!" (What about that guy you love? The marriage bit?)

I assure you they had not planned the wedding around anemones. I have the signed proposal to prove it. Anyways, they won't talk to me now. The planner has to be their messenger and they told her I was rude and uninterested and that I hate them. They tried to book another florist (I was delighted) but no one was available, so then they changed their tune. "We didn't mean to upset Laura." They still won't talk to me though. They're making me jump through a bunch of monkey hoops because apparently they can't read a description and understand it. "What does Laura mean by 'varying heights of bud vases'? We DON'T want them all the same size."

Let make matters worse. You know that whole supply chain bit? Well the country is about out of flowers. My wholesaler sent out an ominous email yesterday suggesting that any "white and/or blush" weddings "aren't going to happen." Guess who's having white and blush weddings this year? MY ENTIRE LINEUP OF BRIDES THROUGH DECEMBER! I'm having to call them one by one and ask how they feel about yellow. Purple? "I know you wanted romantic white garden-style arrangements. How do you feel about orange?" I did have a gracious bride respond positively. "No problem, it will be beautiful no matter the colors." What a lovely person.

 I haven't told the Anemone bride yet. 

In more important news, we celebrated Ellen's birthday with a gigantic barbecue supper provided by Gigs and Dave, and I made some cheesecake filled cupcakes, a best seller back in my cupcake vending days. They're called Black Bottom cupcakes and Ellen would gobble them up. This time now, as age has set in, no one wanted to take them home because everyone is worried about lardiness. I had to force them on people. I had to force cupcakes!

While we're on the subject of Ellen, she's really been nailing it lately. She let out a big breathy belch while we were signing papers in a quiet lawyers office. She was in the middle of a sentence when BUUURRP! Ellen, the lawyer, and I slowly lifted our eyes from the papers and met each other's surprised stares. Ellen put one hand on her chest and said, "Well I am shocked!" It's possibly the cutest things I've ever seen her do. She and I caught uncontainable giggles (the lawyer did too) that turned into ugly cackles as soon as we closed the door behind us and stepped into the parking lot. 

Earlier this week, she had an 11:00 phone interview and as she sat in her car (for quiet, you know) waiting for them to call, she checked the email and noticed it was 11:00 Central Time. In a panic, she sent an email apologizing for missing the interview and asking to reschedule. After she sent it, she realized she still had forty five minutes until the interview. 
"You haven't missed it..." the person wrote back. 
"Now they think I'm an idiot!" Ellen shouted. "Wait til they find out I'm pregnant. They aren't going to hire a pregnant idiot that can't tell time!"