The Scene In Which I Totally Change How I Do Business *Just For You!* (Alternately Titled: Dear Rude Person).

My favorite thing about my business, aside from the whole bringing-joy-to-your-event thing which is obviously well above all the other perks, is that it's MY business.

Becuase I'm the one who *gets to* arrive early, stay late, and assume all the worry, I take the trade-off as well: I get to make the rules, I get to make the decisions, and I get to be the boss. I get the right to run my business as I wish, and offer what I want, and not offer what I don't.

And sometimes, my decisions mean that I have to turn people down for things, and most of the time people are generally understanding when it comes to this.

"Are you free on my date?" "No, I'm sorry, we've already closed that date," is typically met with an "Oh, darn."

"Do you sell flowers by the stem?" "No, I'm sorry, we're an event planning and floral firm only," is typically answerd with "Oh, ok, thanks."

But then there's the 1% of people who just truly do not understand, or who don't bother to try to understand. They don't read the signs in the parking lot or on our window or on our door which say "Appointment Only!" and "Events Only!" or even stupidly specific signs such as the one in the window that literally says "We Do Not Offer Cash and Carry Services At This Time!"

(Seriously. We could not be more clear about this. NO.)

And sometimes, when faced with the harsh reality that the rules and decisions I have made in the way I run my business might actually apply to them, these people turn into what I like to call the "I QUESTION YOUR LIFE CHOICES, BIATCH" people.

Usually, these are callers, and usually, they've been told "No," for some crazy reason like we're already busy on their date or we are not available at the precise ONE window of time that they desire to meet with us, other clients or events be damned.

I can usually peg that they're going to be an IQYLCB caller when I can hear their hip popping out sassily and their pointer finger coming up in the silence between my "No" and  their "Esssssxcuuuuuuuuuse ME?!"

"What do you MEAN you are closed that weekend? I mean *sound of abject disgust* how many events can you POSSIBLY be doing that day?" (Answer: If we're closed already? Probably 5. Maybe 3. Maybe 1 really awesome big one. There are about 13,000 weddings in our region PER YEAR. Do the math. Or maybe I'm just not working that weekend, not because I have a life or anything like that, but because my robot batteries need recharging and that guy who thinks I'm his wife wants to see me.)
"I mean, really, WHAT kind of place does not offer Saturday/weekend meetings *sound of abject disgust*?" (Answer: The kind that does Saturday/weekend events. Like the one you're calling to book.)

(and my absolute favorite): "*Sound of abject disgust* Well, you SHOULD be able to do mine, because MINE isn't that hard. I totally already met with someone and I know EXACTLY what I want and I just need you to do it." (Translation: Please steal another person's work and ideas and give it to me for less, and make it exactly what I want.)

But today was definitely a first. Today I had a IQYLCB walk into the shop, snark, leave, and then COME BACK FOR MORE.

There's a reason my door is now locked.

So this person walks into the shop -without a greeting- and starts explaining what they need for a luncheon. I question if the luncheon is today and when it is, explain that we don't do cash-and-carry pieces and are appointment only (like it says on three different signs located BEFORE you enter my shop) and unfortunately, we have no flowers in the store.

This is typically met with an "Oh, rats!" reaction.

Oh no.

Blank stare ensues. This person is literally in disbelief that I cannot help her. I give her recommentions of two other florists, both within a 5-10 minute drive, and say, "I'm sorry we can't help you today!" to which I literally get a "huffff.....Yeah, me too," as she storms out.

Pleasant. Nice to meet you too. Terribly sorry you don't approve of my business model- gosh, I will just get RIGHT on that.

Back to work, right??

Oh no.
5 minutes later.
This person comes back in, tells me they're just going to buy flowers at the grocery, and asks to take a free vase so they can just make a centerpiece on their own- they'll return it, naturally, so obviously I'll just give it to them for free. Because they aren't just any person- they are WITH A CATERING COMPANY, thankyouverymuch, and therefore I am obligated  to help solve their problem.

In between the 10 or so seconds of incredulousness (wait-weren't you just in here questioning the way I choose to run my business and now you want something free?) they point to a cut-crystal display vase and say "You're a doll. I'll take this."

Awkward discussion (between my mentally berating myself for not locking the door earlier) ensues about how I'd prefer to give her something that is a little more of a typically stocked item (not, say, a CRYSTAL VASE) which is met with a less than pleased reaction.

I wind up offering a glass curved vase that is nicer than a "plain vase" but something I won't miss if it doesn't come back to me, which though she says it will, meh, may or may not be likely. And that's fine, mind you, it's a vase- but no, you're not taking one of my expensive ones, and certainly not when you're taking it for free, and certainly not when you've basically been rude this entire time.

I get an exasperated "yeah, fine, I guess." The key words not utilized during this transaction are "thank" and "you."
Bonus?! I had a client in my office the entire time, who thank god is also a close friend,  but which this person had absolutely no way of knowing.....so this *professional* came in and did this TO someone she didn't know, IN FRONT OF someone she didn't know.

And people wonder why  my door is locked.

The Scene In Which I Am A Little Fired Up

I'm warning you now, kiddos, I've taken out my biggest, tallest, soapiest soap box and I'm standing UP ON IT.

For Planned Parenthood.

Because there are women in this country who cannot afford healthcare.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not have access to OB/GYN services.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not have access to preventative screenings for cervical cancer, breast cancer, HIV/AIDS, and other diseases.

Who, without Planned Parenthood, would not be able to practice safe sex (if that is their choice.)

Who would not, without Planned Parenthood, be able to access care and avoid unwanted pregnancies.

So the fact that the U.S House of Representatives has voted to deny Planned Parenthood federal funding......

IS PISSING ME OFF.

As are the many comments all over articles, blogs, Facebook, and Twitter that applaud this measure because "here in America, we don't fund murder!"

ALSO PISSING ME OFF.

Because abortion? Here's the thing about THAT. If THAT were part of this federal funding, if THAT were up for discussion, if THAT was a viable argument, fine.

BUT THE FEDERAL FUNDS DON'T FUND ABORTIONS.

THE FEDERAL FUNDS, IN FACT, FUND ALL THE THINGS THAT KEEP WOMEN FROM GETTING PREGNANT.

NOT GETTING PREGNANT= NOT SEEKING AN ABORTION.

If you truly don't want women to have abortions, YOU JUST TOOK AWAY ALL THEIR SUPPORT IN KEEPING THEM FROM FACING THAT DECISION.

Hey, I told you I was fired up.

If you agree with the cut off in federal funds, that's totally your right as a citizen. If you agree with the cut off BECAUSE you don't want to fund abortion, that's stil your right to think that, however, you need to understand that your argument is incorrect.

And if you disagree? Please add your voice to Planned Parenhood's "I Stand With Planned Parenthood" campagin.

The Scene In Which, If I Tweeted, Today Would Look Something Like This

When Twitter first became popular, I started and briefly tweeted under my corporate name.

Then I realized I liked making flowers much more than I liked tweeting about them.

Plus it wasn't easy to do, because I don't have a smartphone, because, ummmm........I break nice things.


But today, if I tweeted, would look like this (and yes, I know these are more than 140 characters. Deal. #perfectionist):

Dear makers of doggy "doody" meds: something about the medication to make the Fab Finn stop pooping is making him throw up. #thanks side effects

Dear moms of Indy: Just drove past a dad pulling his twin toddler daughters around in the snow with a rope attached to those "silly saucer" activity seats. #genius #parenting FTW #not recommended use

Dear driver of large van: yes, we are playing chicken due to the unplowed side streets, however, turning left directly in front of someone else is still not allowed #rules of the road #moments of douchery #snowplow fail

Dear week: you have missed the memo regarding vacation and general ability for laid-back-edness. Also, please add at least ten hours to yourself tomorrow. #back to work

Dear patrons of 4-way-stop-signs: here's how it works. The firstperson who stops is the first person who goes. I totally acknowledge that you've safely stopped and counted to one-onethousand two-onethousand three-onethousand, however, it is still the other person's turn first if they were there first. #rules of the road

Dear unnanamed Mass Ave restaurant: no matter how good they taste, brownies are not made from vanilla cake mix and I remain a teensy bit disappointed #dessert fail

Dear Cute Boy: I can't wait for our date tomorrow night to see Wicked. I <3 you! #oh the cuteness

The Scene In Which I Think My Dog Is Actually A Small Child

Our foster friend Princess has been with us for about three weeks now, and if the present situation is any indication, we're in for a lot of fun and snuggles with this one.

And a lot of patience.

I think she may actually be a small child, and by that I don't mean the "children of the four-legged sort," I mean there might actually be a small child going through her terrible two's while teething, crying and going through a destructive phase hiding inside my dog.

See, here's the thing. The last time I had a PUPPY was in the second grade when my family brought home Molly the Border Collie (yes, we'd actually refer to her as such on occasion). When I was in high school, we found Bennett, our first rescue golden, in a park. After Molly passed away Benson came to live with our family, another golden rescue. And when Bennett passed away, we took home Maggie, a -you guessed it- golden rescue.

Even Finnigan, despite his blindness and relatively young age at time of rescue (we think he was about two) came fairly housebroken and well-behaved. Sure, he peed in the house a few times, but he got over that pretty quickly, and he has been known to make some messes playing with a toy, but big deal.

So when we got Princess, I figured, "hey, whatever." She is at least 6 years old, so I figured the puppy-energy was gone, and as long as she was housetrained, we'd be fine.

Holy crow.

I was wrong.

In fact if there is any sort of good indication as to just HOW WRONG I WAS, it might be that I'm finding myself relating to my two favorite mommy-blogs as they write about all the weird things they've said outloud to their kids this week.

(Random sidenote? My favorite is "I don't believe you when you say you're afraid of corn." HILARIOUS!)

Because if she isn't actually a child, I'm pretty sure this dog, in fact, has been sent by the angels to teach me what it will be like to have toddlers one day.

Or she's a demon.

Either way.

Overheard at our house this week:

"Please don't bite him."

"No, that is Finnigan's food, not yours."

"My glove is not a chew toy."

"No, this is Finnigan's treat. You just ate yours."

"My hat is not a chew toy."

"NONONONONONONO!" (Peeing on the rug. AGAIN.)

"My hairbrush is not a chew toy."

"No, this is Finnigan's food. This is yours."

"What do you have? Put that down. Don't put it in your mouth."

"Hey! Drop that! Gimme that. Gimme that out of your mouth. Open your mouth."

"That's his food. I said THAT'S HIS FOOD! Hey, that's HER FOOD! Come on guys-that's not your food! Ok, if you want to eat out of each other's dishes that's fine. Whatever."

"My underwear is not a chew toy."

She's lucky she's stinkin' cute.

The Scene In Which The New AT&T Commercial Is Exactly What's Wrong With People.

It's a bold assertment, to be sure. But really, how can this NOT be indicative of how our society is heading down a thorny path of bratty behavior, requiring instant gratification to be "happy?"

The commercial centers around a guy named Steve. Steve has gone out for a long bike ride on a beautiful day.

On his long bike ride Steve starts to get worried. What if someone is trying to reach him with better plans for the day? What if one of his friends gets concert tickets? What if he's missing out on something cooler to do?

Luckily Steve has AT&T! So he ducks into the nearest coffee shop and checks in via his laptop. He is relieved to find out he isn't missing out on anything and can now thankfully finish his ride in peace.

Steve? Sucks.

Seriously, folks! When did we come up with this theory that it is unacceptable to simply enjoy an activity that WE HAVE CHOSEN TO DO?

Why is it hard to imagine that, on a beautiful day, Steve has chosen to simply take a bike ride- choosing to forego other opportunities that may have come along? Besides, what if those opportunities don't come via social networking or mobile devices? Sure, Steve's friend could call his mobile phone, but what if he JUST STOPS BY THE HOUSE?? Can we ever leave the little bubbles we've created knowing that we might miss out on something if we do??

Secondly, WHY must we be tethered by these little beepy things constantly? Sure, I'm as bad as the next person about getting on Facebook while I'm at my computer or being sure to take my cell phone with me when I leave for the day, but really Steve? A LAPTOP ON A BIKE RIDE? If the whole point is to get out and enjoy the beautiful day, here's a radical thought- GET OUT and ENJOY the beautiful day!

And finally, the idea that only when he's been assured he's chosen the best option can he truly enjoy it? Really, Steve? Can you imagine the horror he must face every day having to constantly ask whether he can be happy with something when there is a possibility that there is SOMETHING! MORE! OUT THERE! Even choosing a muffin at that Starbucks he was forced to stop in so that he could check his precious messages becomes an issue. Maybe he wants blueberry. Maybe he wants raspberry. But maybe he even wants a pumpkin scone! And it's the last one! And if he orders it they are going to bring out a tray of something else and maybe he'll want THAT MORE!

I rant, yes.

But I rant because the first time I heard this commercial I was taken aback. And the second time I heard it I started to get alarmed. And the third time I heard it I started wanting to punch Steve and tell him to grow a pair.

Now, if you'll pardon me, I'm off to take a bike ride. And celebrate switching to Brighthouse.