The Flower Seller

Today is Jewish New Year.

Yeah, I wasn't all that ready for it, either. In DH's family there is a tradition of having lunch on the first full day of the holiday. Other than baking the ubiquitous honey cake for my MIL, I don't have to do any preparation for this as she takes on the task (thanks MIL... :) ) Usually I like to bring along something extra for my MIL, as a token of thanks and just because I think it's a nice thing to do. This time, however, I was woefully disorganised and so I found myself having to pop into the florist on the way from temple to lunch.

The parking gods were smiling on me, so I swung into a spot directly across the road and sprinted to the flower seller. It took me about 0.54 seconds to pick what I wanted (freesias - she likes them and I do, too, and they are in season right now) and I asked the man to wrap up two bunches for me.

"Would you like them arranged together?"
"No, thanks, just nicely wrapped will do."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, I'm sure, thanks." (I'm not being cheap here, MIL is known for arranging her own flowers, and I don't think she is a fan of overly fussy things.)
 "I think the white will look really nice nestled within the yellow,"
"I do too. Just wrapped will be lovely, thanks."

He ignored me. The decision to arrange them had apparently already been made. So he ever-so-carefully slipped them out of their sleeves, snipped off the rubber bands holding them together, and proceeded to arrange the two bunches together.

I say "arrange them", but what I really mean is drive me up a wall, one stinking flower at a time (literally, because fressias are smelly, in a nice way.)

Stem - by - freaking - stem, he's putting one in his hand, looking at it, putting a second one in his hand, thinking about it for a bit...putting another stem in his hand, holding it at arm's length and considering it for a bit... then shaking his head and putting it all down to start again.

And then there were the other customers who came in - so he would stop arranging to help them and then would need to start the whole stem-by-stem process all over again because once he'd put  it down, it lost all it's flower mojo.

By now I am getting a wee bit concerned about the time (others were waiting back at the lunch...) and frankly, I'm getting a little antsy. I try rushing this guy a bit, but to no avail - have you ever seen the scene in the move 'Love Actually' where Rowan Atkinson is wrapping the gift? It was a bit like that. (You can watch it here...comedy gold.)

To keep my mind occupied, I composed a blog post in my head. All about how I was so impatient, and annoyed, and really wanting this guy to get a move on...but that I'd learned the lesson of "good things come to those who wait," learned that there is no point in rushing beauty, learned how I'd found time to actually smell the roses, revelled in how on that busy street there was still an oasis of calm and beauty and...

FUCK THAT. I'm running late, I need these damn flowers, and for the love of god, would you PLEASE just nicely put them together and wrap some paper around them so I can get the heck out of here?

This man was in no rush, and was clearly enjoying the creative process, no matter how one-bloody-stem-at-a-time it was happening - and he just didn't notice my having practically having a "I REALLY need to GGGOOOOO!" seizure right there in his shop. A good 20 minutes later and I finally had my artfully arranged, sticky tape placed *just* so bunches of flowers, and I bolted out of that shop like my butt was on fire.

So while I'd love to tell you I learned a whole bunch of peace, patience, love, flowers, hearts and unicorns lessons from this, I can't.

I just learned to use a different florist next time I'm in a rush.

Sometimes the lessons we learn are not so profound.