An older couple approaches my guest relations desk at the high-end department store where I work. The woman starts speaking loudly.
Customer: “My son is getting married, and his gift registry is here, under [Son].”
Me: “Congratulations to your son! Let me just get that for you.”
The registry appears on a tablet screen that’s viewable to the customers. The couple (well, mostly the mother) starts scrolling down the list.
Customer: *Face darkening* “Oh… Oh, these are all hideous.”
Me: *Nervous laughter* “Well, the good thing about a registry is that you don’t have to worry about personal taste; you’ll be getting something you know the couple will both love.”
Customer: “These aren’t things that they’ll both love! This is all her! This registry has her grubby little fingers all over it! A finger that’s wearing my mother’s ring!”
My nervous laughter has dissolved into simply a nervous smile. I have nothing to say at this point.
Customer: “Look! She’s asked for champagne flutes, but they’re the cheap ones! These are not the kind of glassware you get out for company and expect to be respected. No… no… These will not do. Replace these with the [luxury crystal set].”
Me: “Pardon me, ma’am. You’d like to buy them something not on the registry?”
Customer: “No, I want to change the registry! This stuff is all so… cheap!”
I’ll admit that the $39.99 set of six glass champagne flutes is one of the cheaper sets in the store, but to someone like me, it’s already quite expensive. The couple probably thought the same thing for their guests.
Me: “I’m afraid we can’t do that, ma’am. The gift registry was designed by the couple, and only they have the ability to make modifications to—”
Customer: “I am the groom’s mother! I have the authority!“
Me: “I’m afraid that only the couple has that authority, ma’am. If you’d like to buy something supplemental to the registry, we can—”
Customer: *Ignoring me* “And what the h*** is this? Is that a pineapple lamp? How tacky! Have that removed.”
Me: “Ma’am, I—”
Customer: “And is that… plastic? Hideous! We’ll find something ceramic to replace it with.”
Me: “Ma’am! I cannot make any changes to the registry — none at all. The only person you can talk to who has any authority on this is your son. There’s nothing I can do.”
This woman glares at me and purses her lips similar to how Meryl Streep’s character did in “The Devil Wears Prada” whenever she was dissatisfied with anything. She then silently whips out her phone, and I assume she calls her son, as she immediately starts complaining about the gift registry as soon as she’s through to someone.
Customer’s Husband: “My son probably looked at the registry as a way to practise the mantra I’ve been doing for far too long: ‘Happy Wife, Happy Life.’ Knowing my son and my future daughter-in-law, I think they’ll be fine.”
He takes a look over at his wife, still screaming down the phone.
Customer’s Husband: “I, on the other hand, might need a rethink…”
She ended the call loudly, hmphed at me, and dragged her husband out. A month or so later, I checked, and the registry was 90% purchased by the day of the wedding!
