Tiffany and Company had their grand opening at the Stony Point Fashion Park on September 9th. Seeing as it was my birthday just the day before, I thought I’d keep this party going one more day and roll on over. I have this necklace I wanted shortened and a pair of earrings that were missing some backs. Really though, I was looking for a little more “Happy Birthday” to me.
I waited until early afternoon to make my visit, thinking that since Stony Point is close to Morgan’s school, I’d peruse the shop, get my repairs and still be on time for afternoon carpool. Let me tell you, when I got there, you’d have thought they were giving stuff away. People (read:women) had been clearly waiting for this store for a long time. I overheard one associate say that folks were lined up outside at 10am when the mall opened. When I got there at 1pm, the crowd was still thick. Flanking the entrance were two stacks of Tiffany boxes at least 8ft. tall. People were posing with the stacked boxes, snapping Instagrams and what not. I saw one woman lean against the side of the store, her arms framing the Tiffany and Co. sign on the wall. Her body language, her blissfully contented grin; I just knew she was going to be uploading that photo trying to convince folks she’d jetted off to NYC for the afternoon or something.
Anyway. . .this nice associate named Kevin greeted me at the door. He had this Daddy Warbucks mixed with the Secret Service vibe going on. Bald pate, suit, tie, and the ear bud in-the-ear-coiled-wire-down-the-neck thing. Guess they have to keep tabs on the merchandise. I think every associate in that place had on some Tiffany jewelry of some kind. It got me to wondering if you have to buy it to work there or do they loan you some stuff while you’re on the clock. How about loaning me something like this?
So Kevin asks me how he could help me and I outline how I’d like my necklace shortened and my earring backs replaced. He confides that he’s the shipment manager, but he’d be happy to get an associate (i.e. peon) to help me out. He casts his eyes about, but since the place is at max capacity, peons associates are scrambling in every direction. He does me the honor of helping me himself. I also tell him that I had heard there was a camera charm available. What a nice little treat to self that would be, and would he be a dear and show it to me (I cross the threshold and suddenly I’m all Holly Golightly). On his way to replace my earring back, he waylays an associate (let’s call her Erin) who would show me where the Tiffany charms can be found.
Erin turns to say hello and HOLY MOTHER OF PEARL!
Ol’ girl has a freakin’ Tom Selleck mustache hanging out of her nose.
I’m not kidding you. Nose hair. Nose hair so long, I could have braided it. I could have braided it up into her unibrow or down into her mustache. Yes, she had ALL THAT. It was triumvirate of hair. WHAT THE HELL?! This girl gave new meaning to the word hirsute. If that wasn’t enough, when she smiled? **shudder** I think she’d been chewing butter covered rocks on her lunch break.
Kevin promised me a swift return with my items while Erin would help me with the chain shortening and the charms. So, I follow *NOSE HAIR* Erin to the counter where she proceeds to very ineptly try to help me. First, she can’t find the velvet covered sleeve you lay on the table to protect your jewelry. *NOSE HAIR* Then, she can’t find her portfolio where she’s supposed to record my information. *NOSE HAIR* I asked her to measure my chain to be sure of what I have before I start hacking off inches. Guess what? *NOSE HAIR* She can’t find the ruler. When I ask her to show me a 16″ and a 14″ chain for comparison purposes, she brings me a link necklace that is so markedly different from what I have, I’m wondering if English is her second language. Or third.
*NOSE HAIR*
Now, I’ve read articles and heard stories about how attractive people are treated better than less attractive people. So, I did some self-checks before letting my irritation show. Truthfully, it wasn’t her hairiness and poor dental hygiene that got me ticked. She was just an ineffectual customer service provider. She didn’t know where things were. She didn’t know how to fill out the form. She kept smiling and apologizing. She was ready to walk away with my stuff and a smile before I prompted her with, “Would you like to take my information down for the repair?” To which she replied, “Oh. Yeah. Sorry.”
Stop smiling at me! Don’t be sorry, be professional! Get me someone who knows what they’re doing! Gah!
Thankfully, another associate came to her aid, but it took the two of them another 15 minutes to input the information and provide me with a receipt. And poor Erin! Every time she came back to the counter to assure me that it would just be another minute, she flashed that “I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-butter” smile. And she coughed up another half dozen or more apologies.
Kevin returned with my earrings, which he had polished to a shine so brilliant, I could see my pores in the reflection. And talk about great customer service! When I asked what the fee was for replacing the earring back, he said, “Just come back and see us again soon.” Was he flirting? It was all I could do not to burble out an “Oh, you!” and put my hand teasingly on his arm.
Erin, true to her word, brought the paperwork back. She handed it to another associate, who then proceeded to outline what had been inputted and when I could expect to receive my necklace. Erin stood behind her, nodding like a bobble-head. Maybe it was her first day on the job. Maybe she was nervous. I know, I’m so imposing that even the most self confident of persons is rendered into a steaming pile of “uh. . .uh. . .uh . .”
I’m sure Erin is a very personable young lady who has a bright future at Tiffany and Co. I’m sorry that I was so thoroughly blinded by her facial. . .situation, that I may have missed what a personable young lady she truly is. Shame on me for passing judgement, I know. I’m curious, though. Have you ever made a snap decision about someone based on how they looked? Have you been less than pleasant if your server, clerk, customer service rep makes a leper look like the after picture from a Pro-Activ commercial?
You know how I love the fall. I really do enjoy fall.
Labor Day has come and gone. School has started. September has effectively put the boots to summer, arriving with swollen clouds and breezes that make you think twice about sticking a cardigan into your bag.
Coever’s birthday was last Thursday and I thought that I would make a little treat for her classmates. I’m trying to sneak a little bit of healthy less sugary snacks into the mix. Instead of bringing in cupcakes, donut holes or popsicles (all of which were suggested by the teacher, incredibly), I opted for muffins. My first thought was banana nut muffins with some cream cheese frosting, but that might as well be a cupcake. Then I remembered the potential for nut allergies in the class.
What to do? What to do? I seemed to remember that I had another muffin mix of some kind tucked away in the pantry. So, I started digging and I found this:
Trader Joe’s Pumpkin Bread and Muffin Mix!
I suppose in a way that was a saving grace. When I flipped the box over to find out what the yield is supposed to be, I saw where it said “This product was made on equipment with milk, whey and treenuts.”
Great.
Well, the 19 muffins that did get made came out great. Craig and the girls will definitely attest to that.
Let me rewind for a second. When I thought about making the muffins in the first place, I did a mental recall to see if I had enough milk, butter, eggs, or whatever to get the job done. I was a few sticks short on butter, so I rolled over to the grocery store and what did I spy?
Shut the front door! Now, I don’t have to become a seasonal Starbucks junkie. Well, maybe just one every now and again. It’s not like I can put the Keurig in my car or something. I’m just sayin’. . .
Temperatures are dropping. Appearances of all things pumpkin are rising. How sweet it is.
Chronologically, the girls are two years apart in age. On the calendar, however, their birthdays are a mere two weeks apart. Throw in indulgent grandparents, excited aunties and uncles, and loving parents — there’s a whole lot of celebrating going on.
This year just as in the years past, there have been multiple celebrations between August 23rd (Morgan) and September 8th (me and Coever). Gone are the days of getting fêted on your birthday. We’re celebrating the day of, the day after, the day before your sister’s and the day after that because we can’t all coordinate to celebrate on the actual day. Cards and gifts come trickling in from August 20th through September 12th.
One gift has become three, five or more. Mo wants to know what Co has. I’m doling out cake ballz for breakfast and trying to to say “yes” instead of “no” because, Hey, it’s her birthday! Co is asking for a 7 layer cake and some gold foil covered chocolate coins. Mo is digging into a gift bag and wondering where is her makeup and some earrings. Co requests pizza for her special birthday dinner, with a side of sushi for Mo. My phone is ringing with well-wishers and it’s not even 7:15 in the morning.
A couple of years ago, I decided that to get things under control, we’re saving the big, pony-ride-bounce-house-face-painters-limo-ride type celebrations for milestone numbers like 5, 10, 16, and 21. Morgan tried to work 18 in there, but I may still be recovering from her 16th birthday bash if I know how my daughter operates. Her ideal party, for any occasion, think MTV’s My Super Sweet 16 minus the bratty, whiny, snotty kids. Just big location, big to-do, big dresses (she does love a costume change). Blessedly, I’ve got many a year before I even need to start thinking about that. Then, instead of “Hide yo’ kids“, it’ll be “Hide yo’ checkbook”.
I will say, though, the back-to-back birthdays has been a good time. It’s nice getting the family together to celebrate our girls, who are pretty inseparable on most days that end in “y”. I really enjoy the bathing suit and dress projects that I started with them. I love to see how they’ve grown right before my eyes. I hope they will get a kick out of it, too, especially when I present their respective collages and outfits to them for their 21st birthdays.
Snack Monster
Rain, rain, go away.
Come again another day.
I don’t have any cool Hunter boots to wear, I can’t find my raincoat, and my umbrella is pretty holey (and I don’t mean blessed by the Pope).
Oh yeah, she’s ready to go.
Some moms I know are going to be grappling with tears and nervous tummies (their own, not their kiddos’s) as they navigate carpool. Other moms will barely bring the car to a rolling stop before kicking Jr. out to the curb (“Tuck your head! Tuck your head!”). I’d like to think I’m going to fall somewhere in the middle of the two extremes. I’m looking forward to mornings of uninterrupted time to work, but I’m going to miss the random hugs and kisses the girls pepper me with as they skitter from one room to the next dressed up in all manner of frills and scarves. I’ll enjoy appreciate running errands where I only have to unbuckle myself and can use a basket, but I’ll miss the running dialogue that comes with two little imaginations at the helm of the race-car shopping cart. The begging for fruitsnacks, ice cream, popcorn, free samples from the deli department and of course, multiple trips to the bathroom? Not gonna miss that, but I digress.
I’d like to think I’ve provided both girls with a pretty awesome summer, one that they’ve thoroughly enjoyed and memories of which will last them well into the school year. I wouldn’t say that the first day of school snuck up on us — c’mon, we’ve been doing a countdown calendar since the last day of school — but it’s hard to believe it’s already here. My girls are growing up and I’m amazed at who they’ve become in such a short period of time. I mean, what did I think was going happen if I loved on them, nurtured them, encouraged them, and worked on making them thoughtful, independent, young ladies with strong character?
Two little ladies ready for anything, including the first day of school.
Hold on while I pat myself on the back (kidding, kidding). (no, I’m not). (no, I’m kidding).(sort of).
PS. If you have a chance, check out my friend Libby’s thoughts on sending her little boy off to kindergarten.