Notes From a Flower Shop Girl

As drafted 2 weeks ago. Also, I added the "Your Simpleton" tab up above. Check it if you haven't.


Instead of sleeping in until noon and watching Christmas movies all day long, I've been working 9-hour shifts and massaging my feet like I'm married to myself.

. . . ?

Luckily, I work at a place where only the best of humanity makes a showing.


If you are anything like my {male} brothers, you probably don't understand what is up with girls and flowers. "Why would I buy a girl flowers?" You have asked yourself on more than one occasion. "I don't care how much I like her or how many of my children I would like her to birth, flowers are going to die next week and are therefore a waste of money that could be used elsewhere . . . like such as on my routine Little Debbie fix and testing center late-day fees."

Yes flowers can be pricey (although a $2 stem of daisies will do the job just fine). Yes they will die next week. But that's the point!!! It's that you are willing to spend your money on something so fleeting and temporal for her happiness that will mean the world to her. Think about it. I know I know, you're a guy, but we may get some wheels a-turnin' in that noggin yet. Backing away from the soapbox (and your death glares) now.

Thursday December 22, 2011

Customer 1: A Dozen Boxed

Roses place behind lilies in my book, but that doesn't stop a presentation of boxed roses from being the single most romantic gesture on the entire planet. There's just something hopelessly swoon-worthy about the idea of receiving a dozen (or even a half dozen) roses in a classy boxed-up package. Gents, save yourself the $20 extra for a vase arrangement with filler and get it in a box.
The roses I boxed up today were of a deep, gorgeous, velvet-red shade: Black Magic. They were to be delivered to a young lady on her birthday from her parents. If my parents sent me a dozen boxed, I would faint. In their old age, they could count on being better cared for than any whipper-snapper at the local rest home.

Customer 2: Hollywood Engagement

I think I sabotaged a marriage proposal on accident. It's probably fine. I'm sure his Sunday School lesson this week will be on the Law of Forgiveness anyway.

It'd be safe to say the man had never bought flowers before in his life. I wrapped up his daisies and roses as he told me of how he would visit his girlfriend in LA tomorrow, take her on a hike to the Hollywood sign, and pop the question. His genuine excitement caught the sappy little girl inside of me off-guard and it wasn't until ten minutes after he left that I realized there's no way a bouquet of flowers will weather 30 hours, a flight, and a hike, wearing only water tubes. Don't worry, man's fiance-to-be (or not-to-be), it's unlikely that these shriveled beauts are a symbol of your love. It's not you, it's the flower shop girl.

Customer 3: The Weird Guy

Some guys who come in like to order bouquets of carnations for girls they've likely only spoken to once and have already set on the run. These guys don't want a card pick in their ribbon please and thanks; they are not the card-writing type. Of course not, noob. Man up and pen some words! But please avoid words about fate and wishing on stars and metaphorical resurrection from soul suicide. Gag. On. Nuggets.

Customers 4-7: Adorable Romantic Traditions

There's this funny elderly man who comes in every month on the date he was married to buy a single rose for his wife. Another grandfatherly figure buys his love a bouquet each year on the anniversary of their fist date. Yet another elderly couple arrived together this afternoon to collect Christmas bouquets. They looked more in love than any HBLee couple I've ever tried not to see, and they both wanted to know all about my life, addressing me by my first name as appears on the fancy name badge.

Old people are the bomb diggity. They pull at my heartstrings even more than the tall, attractive British men who often grace my flower-shop presence. In some ways my job is the worst: so many attractive men, all buying flowers for other women. In most ways my job is the best: no expansion needed.

Arrangements chilled and ready for delivery. Yes, I do these for several hours a day.
Yes, I'm blessed. Work is my favorite part of the day.

1 comment

  1. I discovered Black Magic roses a few weeks ago... I think they're my new favorite. They're like red roses, but better.



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