My first job was working at a florist. I was 15, and two or three days a week my friend would drop me off at Blooms where I would work until 7:30 or 8:00, whenever my step-dad would get off of work and was able to pick me up. Or whenever the last person at work would leave and took me home. I bummed so many rides to and from that place. I made $7.00 when I started and $8.00 when I left. Only a dollar raise in 3 years. wow.
I also took a lot of chocolate. Godiva chocolate. We sold those individual truffles that you could buy singly (sp?) or in a box. My favorite one was dark chocolate mint. It was rich brown with minty green icing piped over top. Geeze, that was good!
(Picture not mine.)
I worked there for three years, even though I was allergic to flowers. Every year I worked there on Valentines day. The third year I worked there on Valentines day I had a boyfriend at the time, and I was super-pissed that they made me work. He came in close to closing time (the store was still bustling at 8:30!) and waited for me to get off of work. When I came out of the back he was waiting there with a long-stemmed peach rose. It was pretty awesome, even though I went right home and so did he.
After I graduated high school I didn’t go back to visit until I was 25. 10 years later, the same lady still owned the store and was closing up shop as I arrived. She didn’t recognize me until I told her who I was. I bought a plant, even though I kill everything that is green, but it is miraculously still alive today! I say miraculously because we forget to water for weeks upon weeks, and yet it still lives! And no it’s not plastic. I keep checking.
(This blog brought to you by Plinky. I’m hoping that this will get me writing more. Because apparently I don’t write in my blog ever.)