As you may know, I’m planning a wedding. I try not to write about it too much because, well, this isn’t some sort of Martha-Stewarty-wedding-planning-blog. You don’t need to know about brie-and-blueberry tartlets or stuffing invitations—or maybe you already do know, and don’t want to relive those things.
Regardless, I ask you this: do florists secretly rule the world?
I’m completely serious. I tried on about four dresses before I found my wedding dress, all at the same store. I got my first-choice venue, my first-choice photographer, and my first-choice caterer, even though I’m getting married on a Sunday that happens to also be Father’s Day. My dream-officiant is traveling from the next state to perform the ceremony.
But today alone, I’ve been rejected by two florists and shamed by one. My first choice called me at 10 a.m. and, when I answered the phone a little hoarse from coughing, she said in that snide voice some parents have mastered (*coughmotherinlawcough*), “Oh, did I wake you up?”
Uh, no. She then proceeded to turn down my wedding.
The next florist was just plain rude. “Oh! It’s on Father’s Day? Weird. Well, we need to get you in here soon. Well, I can’t do Monday, so it’ll have to be Wednesday. *sigh* Oh, well, I guess we’ll rearrange so you can come in later.”
I realize that these people have a special skill, are even masters of their art, but I’m hiring them for a $1000 one-day job. A little courtesy would be nice. And aren’t people supposed to bend over backward to make sunshine and love pour down from the heavens onto the bride?
The amazing How Stuff Works podcast Stuff Mom Never Told You did a Valentine’s Day episode about the hidden costs of Valentine’s Day flowers: exploited workers in Africa and Columbia, the costs of shipping fresh flowers worldwide, the chemicals used in growing and preserving the flowers, and the general horror of such a, well, useless industry.
Globally, we spend more than $100 billion on flowers every year… and only, like, half of that is from weddings, I’m sure.
Florists may have 60-hour work-weeks leading up to Valentine’s Day and Mother’s Day and just about every weekend in June (as I’ve learned, to my chagrin), but they’re raking in astronomical amounts of cash. And they’re unlikely to be replaced by some new digital technology. They employ workers on every habitable continent, and they have the power to make brides beg on hand-and-knee.
I’m telling you, florists are evil geniuses. One day they will reveal themselves as our fragrant overlords, and we will bow at their baby’s-breath throne.
What do you think, readers? Do florists rule the world?