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ysobelleWell, I just called my deadbeat customer's house again. She isn't there. But I believe I spoke to her father, and briefly explained what's going on. He assured me, quite seriously, that this will be taken care of. I'm not holding my breath, but we'll see.
At this point, my trip to London is in serious danger, and I'm terrified.
Anyway.![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
ibukij, is there any chance you're going to be coming down to Wicked Faire in February? I have some worries about your new corset, and I would love to actually measure you myself. I think I know what your new pattern needs, but it would be easier to, if you'll forgive, actually tie you up myself.
Also? I don't feel good. And that makes me whiny. I'm thinking way, way too much about one particular thing, and that also makes me cranky-- I despise myself when I overthink and feel needy or uncertain. I want I want I want-- and I'm very bad with patience.
Oddly, in the store, they consider me to be the very model of patience. I've been told I'm exceedingly patient with difficult customers, and somehow, though I've gotten better at recognising it over the years, I just don't see them as difficult. Rather, I should say it takes some astonishingly rude behaviour to raise my hackles. But the people buying jewelry or art glass or carvings from me are spending their money, and they want to be sure they're buying the right thing. So sometimes, they want to see everything in the shop, and sometimes they take a long time to decide. I don't have a problem with that. The only time it bothers me is if I have other people who need help. But I'm more than happy to spend half an hour helping a guy pick out just the right earrings for his girlfriend, or a mom find the best gift for her son's wife. And sometimes, they have the best stories: I had a mother and son last night on a tour of schools. The son is a music education major-to-be, and he's been auditioning all over. He's been through some incredibly tough trials: one school put him through his paces in performance and theory for seven hours. Near the end of it, he was so exhausted, he was falling asleep.
I was reminded of a similar situation in the store about six or seven years ago. A mother and daughter were doing the college tour, and were on their way to New College, my alma mater, in Sarasota, Florida. I was ecstatic, and gushed about how much I'd loved the place. But in the midst of it, I realised I was going on about how well New College had prepared me for the world while working as a sales clerk in an airport store. It was fairly depressing.
Last night, though, while talking to this really great kid and his mom, I told them about my bizarre undergrad, and then my grad school experiences, and I said that while I had never finished grad school, I had my own business now. And that made me feel much better, really. I was also able to say that I've worked in the store on the side because while yes, I need the steady income, I also really like the company, and the things we sell. Seriously, while I sometimes despise the job, I'm incredibly lucky. I don't want to work anywhere else, and I can't think of anywhere else that would be as interesting and fun, or cut me so much slack. Also? The international travellers every night, back and forth to England and Italy and France. Oh, if only I spoke French.
I vacuumed the corners of my bedroom this morning-- inch-thick layers of fur and dust that have settled undisturbed for G-d knows how long. Now, perhaps, I'll write a bit. Stack the endless piles of books. Throw away some papers. Finish an overdue corset. Make myself feel useful.
At this point, my trip to London is in serious danger, and I'm terrified.
Anyway.
ibukij, is there any chance you're going to be coming down to Wicked Faire in February? I have some worries about your new corset, and I would love to actually measure you myself. I think I know what your new pattern needs, but it would be easier to, if you'll forgive, actually tie you up myself.Also? I don't feel good. And that makes me whiny. I'm thinking way, way too much about one particular thing, and that also makes me cranky-- I despise myself when I overthink and feel needy or uncertain. I want I want I want-- and I'm very bad with patience.
Oddly, in the store, they consider me to be the very model of patience. I've been told I'm exceedingly patient with difficult customers, and somehow, though I've gotten better at recognising it over the years, I just don't see them as difficult. Rather, I should say it takes some astonishingly rude behaviour to raise my hackles. But the people buying jewelry or art glass or carvings from me are spending their money, and they want to be sure they're buying the right thing. So sometimes, they want to see everything in the shop, and sometimes they take a long time to decide. I don't have a problem with that. The only time it bothers me is if I have other people who need help. But I'm more than happy to spend half an hour helping a guy pick out just the right earrings for his girlfriend, or a mom find the best gift for her son's wife. And sometimes, they have the best stories: I had a mother and son last night on a tour of schools. The son is a music education major-to-be, and he's been auditioning all over. He's been through some incredibly tough trials: one school put him through his paces in performance and theory for seven hours. Near the end of it, he was so exhausted, he was falling asleep.
I was reminded of a similar situation in the store about six or seven years ago. A mother and daughter were doing the college tour, and were on their way to New College, my alma mater, in Sarasota, Florida. I was ecstatic, and gushed about how much I'd loved the place. But in the midst of it, I realised I was going on about how well New College had prepared me for the world while working as a sales clerk in an airport store. It was fairly depressing.
Last night, though, while talking to this really great kid and his mom, I told them about my bizarre undergrad, and then my grad school experiences, and I said that while I had never finished grad school, I had my own business now. And that made me feel much better, really. I was also able to say that I've worked in the store on the side because while yes, I need the steady income, I also really like the company, and the things we sell. Seriously, while I sometimes despise the job, I'm incredibly lucky. I don't want to work anywhere else, and I can't think of anywhere else that would be as interesting and fun, or cut me so much slack. Also? The international travellers every night, back and forth to England and Italy and France. Oh, if only I spoke French.
I vacuumed the corners of my bedroom this morning-- inch-thick layers of fur and dust that have settled undisturbed for G-d knows how long. Now, perhaps, I'll write a bit. Stack the endless piles of books. Throw away some papers. Finish an overdue corset. Make myself feel useful.