When I get sick, I tend to get kind of pissy. Unfortunately, I got sick but don't get a break from sewing. There is no way of calling a bride and telling her she will have to wait for her dress because you don't feel well. Some brides are cool with being shifted around, but most are so caught up in their own world that they think even the viruses attacking your body are donning her colors and shopping for a gift. To those brides I say BOO, you whore! Also, enjoy getting what I have. Should make for a sexy honeymoon.
After waking up from a fitful sleep spent dreaming about fittings and sewing (last night it was all new people as opposed to current clients...don't know what that was about)I spent a productive morning thinking about the worst brides I have ever worked with. They typically anger me because aside from being horrible to work with, they hone in on my pet peeves. Having incured my wrath, they get titles rather than names and become an archetype in my own epic saga. I'm like Odysseus, really. Traveling in rough seas just trying to make it home. Or maybe I am all out of it since I took some meds. Really, it could be either.
Anyway, today, I bring you the tale of Entourage Bride. Most people when they come to pick out a dress will bring one or two people. The entourage bride has to bring at least 5. She does the same thing at fittings. No one is allowed to question her taste, but is only there to tell her how skinny/beautiful/tan she is and how excited they are for her. They are also allowed to cry and misuse adjectives when describing dresses (more on that sub-peeve at a later date).
The original Entourage Bride-EB for short- was always at least 20 minutes late to each fitting. She chose a dress that was rather meh, but I'm not the one wearing it, so what do I care. It was one of these dresses that is made out of the 80's super shiny, soft satin. If you ask me, this fabric has it's place...in jammies. Whatever. So since it feels all soft she proceeds to rub her dress during the whole fitting. Aside from looking bad, this gets oils from your skin onto the fabric and can be a bad thing, but what do I know.
EB had about 3 fittings with me and at each one brought 5-6 new people. It was remarkable. They sat and cooed over her and brought their infants (subpeeve!) and gave me dirty looks that there were pins on the floor that their precious little angel might eat. It wasn't until the final pickup meeting that I about went off on her and I never go off on people. I'm professional like that.
You may think from the name that a "pickup meeting" shouldn't take too long. The dress is done and steamed and you throw it on really quickly, say yay, and pay me my money. Hell, I thought that too. Apparently, EB didn't get that memo. She was 30 minutes late and when she arrived she refused to put on the dress until her stepdad got there and he was running a little late. 45 minutes into our 10 minute fitting, everyone is there, she puts on the dress and I am thinking I will be home and eating dinner in a few more minutes. Nope. The fitting went another hour and only ended then because the shop was closed and needed to lock up. She "forgot" that she needed to pay me and when I said I would be keeping the dress until the bill was paid in full, she remembered that her dad had given her a check to pay with. Yes, she not only tried to screw me out of my money, but it wasn't even coming out of her pocket!
The happy thing is the hilarious dialogues that ensued. Transcript time! Add your own super snobby voice for EB and the occasional eye roll.
Upon seeing a bit on makeup on the skirt (I rarely wear a bra when working, let alone any pageant-girl orange makeup):
"Um, why is there makeup on my dress?"
"Well, maybe some got on it when you were putting it on. It's pretty common, but easy to remedy."
"Oh, it couldn't be mine. I don't even wear foundation, I just have naturally good skin."
When I was having difficulty zipping up the dress:
"Oh my gosh, I just started birth control and it's totally made my boobs bigger."
Honey, your boobs are not located around your midsection. You've just gained weight.
When one of her friends asked her if she wanted to borrow her sandals for the wedding:
"Well, what size are they?"
"I don't know, like 7 or 7 1/2"
"Oh they would never fit me. My feet are only like a 5 1/2."
At that point I had to go into the other room, give the slow motion 80's clap and congratulate her fiance on finding such an amazingly nice-skinned, big boobed, tiny-footed bride. After all, that's what makes a marriage work, right? Please say yes, or I know far too many brides who are in for a world of hurt and such magical faeries don't deserve that sort of torment! I mean, look at them!! How could they handle such things with their tiny, tiny feet!?!? You people are monsters.