Florist, Week 3

Well, I'd love to report that I've got the hang of things and have taken on some design duties, so I will! Made an arrangement for Sexy Sarah Palin's hotel room yesterday, completed dressing the store in holiday decorations (yes, already) and assisted in wedding bouquet preparations.

No, absolutely none of that is true. Well, technically one of the floral designers made the arrangement for SP and I watched. Same thing for the wedding bouquets. And I did staple black cloth to the walls as a backdrop for the white Christmas tree vignette we now have in one of the front rooms. . . but that took 2 hours, while the designer set up the tree, ornaments and lighting decorations, and accompanying shelves of goods in an hour and a half. I also broke the staple gun permanently. So that was productive.

I've also been making the bouquets that go on sale on Fridays. For half price. And for the past two weeks, they have not sold out, as they always do. I blame the rain and chilly weather, personally.

I finally received a "bow lesson," which prompted another discussion regarding my creativity. "Abbey's having difficulty grasping this, can you show her another way to do it?" Sweet. And my 23-year-old colleague caught on in 20 minutes one morning and spent the afternoon covering the green Christmas tree with her perfect damn bows. I still have yet to master this and have taken to carrying a balled scrap of ribbon in my purse so that I may practice in line at Pick 'n Save. (What? I said purse.)

At work, my right hand is now known as The Claw. Super. Maybe I can  blame this on early-onset arthritis?
I can't really say that I'm sad that I'm unable to make this bow. I think I'm secretly channeling Martha Stewart and she won't allow me to make such ugliness. You know, even though my job depends on it and this is what the customers request in their effing fruit baskets.

In reality, I have spent my days cutting flowers, cleaning buckets, coolers and floors, becoming best friends with a drill and the shoddy walls in the shop, rinsing floral containers, taking orders, boxing arrangements, packing away old holiday decor, wrapping carryout orders of loose flowers, pricing objects for sale and doing whatever is necessary. One of these days, when The Claw goes back to the dark hole it emerged from and My Fingers Return!, I hope to actually begin designing.

In the meantime, I am officially the worst florist in the Midwest, and most certainly in Milwaukee.

Bring it on, Monday!

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