I work at a grocery store in the floral department. There is a prom this Saturday, and it’s right before Mother’s Day, so things are pretty swamped at work right now. We only have one person who is a designer to make all of the hand-held bouquets, corsages, and boutonnieres. We aren’t taking any more orders for prom; we have too many for one person to do.

A customer in her forties or fifties comes in.

Customer #1: “I need a corsage with a black ribbon. It’s for my mother for Mother’s Day, but I need to pick it up on Saturday.”

Sadly for us, we do take the order for Saturday.

My coworker and I talk about it after she leaves, and we reach the conclusion that it’s actually a prom order. It tips us off that she asked for a black ribbon — for a mother on Mother’s Day, it should be a bright, almost pastel color, not black — and that she wanted to pick it up on Saturday instead of Sunday.

[Coworker] and I agree that Mother’s Day order pick-up will have to be Sunday because we already have too many orders scheduled for pick-up on Saturday.

About two minutes before I get off, we get a call. Before I answer, [Coworker] says:

Coworker: “I’ll bet they’re looking for a ‘Mother’s Day’ corsage, but they want to pick it up on Saturday.”

I answer the phone.

Customer #2: “I need a corsage for Mother’s Day, but I need to pick it up on Saturday.”

[Coworker] freaking called it!

Me: “I’m sorry, but Mother’s Day pick-up has to be on Sunday.”

Customer #2: “Oh. Okay.”

And they hung up. (I always wait for the customer to hang up first, just in case they still need something.)

Moral of the story: don’t order flowers last minute, especially during busy seasons and holidays.

I worked as a delivery driver for a florist when my first son was a newborn. It was pretty much an “any job is a job” point of my life, so I took what I could get. The woman I worked for was a holier-than-thou, devout, psychotic Christian woman.

She was insufferable.

She was constantly yelling, changing the routes that I laid out even though I knew the roads better than anyone around there, and bringing her bratty kids in after work, who were just as b****y as their mom.

She would also have “scouts” in the area following my van; they would call her to snitch whenever I took a five-minute break to smoke outside the van between long deliveries. I was the only driver, so if I was sick or had to take my newborn and my wife to the doctor, it was an act of God to get two hours off.

Driving wasn’t my only duty, either. I had to get there before opening and help clean up the shop, take out the trash, pick up lunch for everyone, take phone calls and orders, sweep the whole shop, and close up, as well.

All in all, it wouldn’t have been so bad if I didn’t have the crazy woman telling me I was a failure in all categories of the job and the three cackling hens who made the arrangements nagging back and forth.

It all came to a head one Sunday, my one day off. I had plans to visit family on that day. I got a call from the boss demanding I come in to deliver a ridiculous order. I told her I couldn’t, I already had plans, and I would not be making deliveries that day as it was my day off

Cue the rant: “How dare you defy me, how dare you leave us out in the cold like that, you’re the laziest driver we’ve ever had, yadda yadda.”

On Monday morning, I came in and grabbed the letters for the marquee outside. I took all the letters down, put up, “I quit”, and drove away.

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As Mother’s Day was coming up, I decided to order my mom flowers from a certain online florist site. I spent $87 on this cute bouquet that had a centerpiece of flowers shaped into a small white dog with roses around it, set into a watering can, with a “Happy Mother’s Day” balloon and a personalized card. I gave the company a “flexible” delivery schedule of Thursday, May fifth through Sunday, May eighth, as Mother’s Day was Sunday, to avoid the extra $15 charge for guaranteed delivery on Sunday.

Thursday came around, and at about 8:00 pm, I received a delivery confirmation email and called my mom to make sure she’d gotten the flowers. However, nothing had arrived at the house.

And so began the migraine-inducing encounter with their “live chat” helpline.

After going through the motions with the robot and telling it my order number and other details, I was connected to a live agent.

Agent #1: “Hello, [My Name]! Thank you for contacting [Florist]. My name is [Agent #1] and I will be happy to assist you. Please give me a moment to review your chat with the virtual assistant.”

I waited.

Agent #1: “Thank you for your patience. I see that you are reaching out because your order was not delivered. I sincerely apologize that your gift did not arrive as scheduled. We value your business and understand how important it is for your gift to arrive on time. Please allow me to resolve this.”

This agent then disconnected the chat with no further messages, so I opened a new chat and got [Agent #2] who sent the same first two messages, but introduced himself as [Agent #2]. He could not see the all information I’d given the previous agent, so I had to give him all the confirming details again.

Me: “Thank you. Just please do not disconnect the chat like the last agent did after sending that same message with no other explanation.”

Agent #2: “Thank you for patiently waiting, [My Name]. Please accept my apologies for what happened to your order, and I hope you will give me a chance to make this right. I’m more than willing to process redelivery at the earliest time possible at no additional cost. Since I also want to make up for the inconvenience, I will also be sending, via email, a $20 Savings Pass good for your next purchase with us.”

Agent #2: “I’m sorry, [My Name], for what happened with the last agent.”

Me: “That would be amazing, thank you.”

Agent #2: “[My Name], is it okay to deliver your gift on May 10?”

Me: “Yes, that’s fine.”

Agent #2: “I’m sorry, [My Name], there is no available delivery date.”

Where the h*** did you get May 10, then?

Me: “How can there be no available delivery date?”

Agent #2: “Your local florists are not available.”

I gave up at this point.

Me: “Fine. Can I just get a refund, then?”

After a few more minutes, they sent me the confirmation of the refund and said it would take seven to ten days for it to show on my account. Since this was a major brand that used local florists to make and deliver orders, I couldn’t even complain directly to a proper shop, just the online chat. They wouldn’t give me the name of the shop that messed up due to “confidentiality,” but really what florist is open — let alone making deliveries — at 8:00 pm? And deliveries that don’t show up nonetheless!

Now, I have two days to find flowers for my mom from a local florist/grocery store since I don’t trust that online shop not to mess it up again.

I own a floral shop. While we mostly use standard mass-produced vases, we do have a small section of antique, hand-blown designer vases. One we just got in is a bright pink and green tulip vase. It has been getting a lot of close looks and comments from customers.

A woman comes in about three weeks after we get the vase in.

Woman: “What a beautiful vase! Can you pull it down for me? I’m afraid I would drop it pulling it off that shelf.”

I hand it to her, and she begins looking it over and flips it over to look at the price.

Woman: “Can you tell me how much this vase is? It must be marked wrong.”

She starts to hand me the vase as she continues.

Woman: “It looks like it says $40. No one would pay that.”

Me: “$40 is the correct price, ma’am. It was hand-blown in the late 1970s, and the glass is colored, not painted. Are you interested or should I put it back?”

Woman: “I’m interested, but not for $40. You’ll never sell that for that much. It’s only worth maybe $15, but I’ll take it for $20. Go wrap it up.”

Me: “No, $40 is a fair price. We just got it in and I’m not willing to mark it down.”

I put the vase even higher on the shelf, out of her reach.

Woman: “I’m telling you it’s not worth that much. Just sell it to me now instead of sitting on it.”

Me: “I’ve had many people look at this vase. While it hasn’t sold yet, you’re the first to say anything about the price being too high. I have had two people over the past week say that they will be back to get it after payday. So, no, I don’t think I’ll have to hold onto it for very long.”

Woman: “Well, it’s called a negotiation. What is your best price? I’ll go up to $25.”

Me: “Ma’am, this a store, not a garage sale. The price is $40, and I have no intention of discounting it at this time.”

The woman raises her voice, almost yelling.

Woman: “You’re just completely delusional! No one will ever pay $40 for that vase. It’s just going to sit on your shelf collecting dust, but because I’m not unreasonable, I’m going to leave my phone number. When you realize I’m right, call me, and I’ll come back and get it. But I’m not paying more than $25.”

Me: “Okay, sure.”

She writes down her contact information while a ring up her items. She spends the entire time complaining about the price of the vase.

As she is walking out the door, she calls back over her shoulder.

Woman: “Don’t lose my number! I’ll be waiting for your call.”

A few months later, in walks the same woman. I don’t recognize her until she asks about the vase.

Woman: “Last time I was here, there was a pink and green vase on this shelf. Do you still have it?”

I pretend not to recognize her.

Me: “Are you talking about the vintage one that looked like an abstract tulip?”

Woman: “Yes.”

Me: “No, that did not stick around for very long. But, funny story, some lady was in here demanding I sell it for a huge discount. She made me keep her number for when I was willing to be ‘more reasonable’ and told me that no one would ever be willing to pay $40 for it. I sold it two days later to a woman who went on and on about what a good deal it was, and then, a week after that, another customer came in to buy it. She said she was disappointed but not surprised it was gone. You’re actually the third person to ask me about that vase since it’s been sold.”

The woman blushes and looks embarrassed but does not admit to being the same person.

Woman: “Well, obviously, she was wrong.”

She took off right away without buying anything.

I work in the floral department of a grocery chain. One night, I am closing and a woman comes to the counter carrying a handful of single, long-stemmed roses of different colors from our front cooler.

Customer: “How much are these?”

Me: “They’re $5 each.”

I don’t even get the chance to tell her the cheaper options before she goes off.

Customer: “Are they on special or anything? They’re not even that great looking. They weren’t even in water.”

I just went through and groomed them and gave them fresh cuts, and the large buckets they were in were half-full of fresh water. They are all separated by color.

Customer: *As she’s going to put them back* “They aren’t even good colors. They’re like, for Valentine’s Day!”

It was almost Christmas, but those colors of roses were the most common colors, and people usually only buy them for everyday romantic occasions anyway.

Before closing, I went to the front cooler where I could see drops of water forming a small puddle on the floor in front of the roses, and all the different colors she had picked out were put back with purple roses.