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Once more, for those in the back...

6/6/2017

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I was reminded today that people *still* don't understand how truly bitter and strange florists are. In the interest of public illumination, I now post an excerpt from Fresh Cut to be digested by the world at large. Hope it doesn't choke.
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​*(Disclaimer: please be advised that Fresh Cut is 1/3 funny florist stories, and the rest is sex, drugs, violence, depression, and death. So don't go blaming me if you pick it up for an afternoon of beach reading and wind up weeping in the sand).

Victoria: my friend, my enemy, my challenge, and my inspiration. It was with Victoria that I began to compile the list, the defining archive of just exactly why it was so ridiculously awful to be a florist. It took a lot of nights of Jagermeister and cocaine, but here it is...

10 Things Most Likely to Send Florists Into a Homicidal Rage 

1) The biggie: "This must be the best job in the world!" No. It's dirty, tiring, we're overworked, underpaid, totally unappreciated, and we have to deal with assholes like you all day.  Piss off.

2) "It smells so good in here." Whatever. It's a flower shop. Here's a hint: if you walk into a flower shop and it smells like fresh beef, that is not a good sign. We can't smell anything anyway; we've become completely numb. Plus, what you're probably smelling is the aromatherapy candles. Most flowers don't smell. Try to find something slightly less inane to say.   

3) "Are these flowers fresh?" Yes. Certainly fresher than your breath. My entire job is to sell you fresh fucking flowers. If they die, you're going to come back and irritate me again, so yes, they're "fresh."

4) "They don't look fresh." Oh, I'm sorry. Apparently I got confused about which one of us is actually the professional that does this for a living and looks at these miserable fucking fresh flowers day in and day out. How informative of you to educate me in this way. If you don't like the look of it, don't buy it, dipshit, I've got better things to do than stand here and fight against your ignorance. And quit saying "fresh," it's incredibly creepy.

5) "My flowers died in a week. I want my money back!" What is wrong with you people? Why don't you get it? Flowers die! Accept it and move on. What do you need, a support group?  Look, flowers are dying from the moment they're cut off the plant! Their pathetic existences are only being prolonged by artificial means. C'mon, how long would you expect a severed arm to live in a tub of water before it started to rot? Flowers are dying, decaying lumps of organic matter, but marginally nicer than a severed arm on the kitchen table, depending, I guess, on what you're into.
 
6) "So your flowers died. How much water is in the vase?" "Oooh, about an inch." Wrong! Assuming you have put your flowers into a receptacle containing water, you should look at your stems to see whether they are actually in the water. If the water level in your container is two inches below the severed stems, your flowers are not absorbing water, and are dead. Gravity. Basic laws of physics. Ring a bell?

7) "What color is the water?" "Mmm, brown."  Wrong!  Two possibilities if you have brown water:  1) It's coffee; or 2) You have created a stagnant cesspool and a breeding ground for pestilence. Okay, back to basics: we are talking about decaying lumps of organic matter left to sit in water. Hint: If the water your flowers are sitting in starts to look or smell like a swamp, dump it out and put in clean water. Not brain-surgery-level thinking here.

8) "You guys just jack up your prices on Valentine's day."   No, moron, you do. Why do roses cost fifty percent more to the customer on Valentine's Day? Because they cost us two hundred percent more, because the demand has been raised a thousand percent. Because unimaginative male morons decided to buy something on a stupid made-up holiday that popular mythology has told them will get them laid.

9) "I want eleven white roses and one red rose in the middle." So, basically, you want...a target? Very few florists can think of an uglier arrangement. Why in the name of God would you want to send such a travesty? Your lover reminds you of a blood clot, perhaps? Or perhaps you'd like the reverse, eleven red and one white, the "oops I forgot to color in this spot" look?  Tell you what: leave the designing to the professionals. And stop trying to be symbolic. It doesn't work. Just send something pretty.
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10) "I can get this for a dollar at the grocery store!" Good.  Need me to draw you a map to the grocery store? Get the fuck out of my shop. Not my fault big business buys bulk product at discount and sells it for cost, thus simultaneously undercutting small businesses, compromising quality and destroying confidence in the industry. Thanks for reminding me of my misfortune. 
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    "Eve A. Floriste"

    If you're on this website, chances are you already know "All About Eve." Who is really author E.J. Bouinatchova: a writer of the strange, dark, funny, and eclectic, a former florist, and a passionate plant-o-phile.

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