Ode to a Consignor

I’d love to give credit to whoever wrote this, but alas, I have no clue. A sharer (who also didn’t know who the writer was) at www.tgtbt.com passed it along some time ago and it made me laugh.

 

ODE TO A CONSIGNOR

What a sight she was when she opened the door

Prancing in to my consignment store,

Big hair, big boobs

Big Attitude

“This purse is a Coach”

But it was spelled “Goach”.

“All of this and there’s nothing you can take?

Not even this purse?” “Nope, it’s a fake”.

I pity the nauga that sacrificed his hide,

for her “designer” shoes, in a triple E wide.

“This sweater is new, see the tags?”

Her items were wadded in big, black, trash bags.

Take an item, do I dare,

Spend an hour removing cat hair?

My eyes begin to water, my head starts to ache

she must smoke a carton a day for Pete’s sake!

Stirrup pants, a snap crotch body suit,

Acid washed jeans, high waisted, and tapered to boot!

Can it get better? Can it get worse?

Oh look at the great vinyl Chanel purse

I think poor Coco just rolled over in her grave.

Only four trash bags to go, I must stay brave

Some items have tags from another consignment store

I think it’s beens six years since they closed their door.

Faded Glory shorts and a Bobbie Brooks tank

With brands like these, we’ll go straight to the bank

Especially in November, out the door they will fly

Who wouldn’t buy now to wear in July?

She gets out her glasses to read the contract,

Crosses things out, then hands it back.

“See that great jacket? I’d like $50 for that”

The $10 clearance tag is still intact.

“I didn’t know you don’t do mens”

Obviously this is her first time in.

I stop sorting to ring up a sale

On me she starts to rail

“I have an appointment, your time is mine

Look at my stuff, sell theirs’ another time.”

I suggest she browse while I sort

But she has the perfect retort

“Sorry dear,

I’d never shop here.

I’m honest, I won’t lie

Your prices are just too high

Speaking of prices, you should ask more

For my sweater is a Jennifer Moore

Don’t price this one so low,

I bought it in California, don’t ya know?”

From California it may be

But the tag still says “Kathie Lee”

Eight bags down, only one to go

Who knew it could sink so low?

Hark! an item I can take

I actually found something great

“Oh, I think I’ll change my mind

I’ll take that back, if you’d be so kind.”

Her children are screaming and climbing in a rack

Discipline and manners they sorely lack

That’s it. I’m done. I can’t take any more

I just want to yell, “Get out of my store!”

“I love my clothes. To visit them, I”ll be back.

I hope you don’t have a problem with that?”

 

 

 

March; in like a lion and out like a lamb? NOT!!!

What a week! Whew! Forget the lamb, March left with a bang. Slamming doors, yelling, and waterworks, included. Okay, so the yelling was really thunder, the slamming doors was actually dropped ceiling tiles dropping to the floor because of the waterworks (rain).

Tuesday morning, April 1st was no April Fool’s joke. It was for real. A quick run-down of events goes as follows;

• Leslie (daughter/manager) who normally opens was suffering with fibromyalgia pain again, so I told her I’d run the store that day. No big deal.
• I get the news that Annette was still unable to work. (She had 2 ingrown toe nails removed last week. Ugh! I wouldn’t look but I heard it was really ugly.) Okay, I can handle that. Still no big deal. I’ve got Betty and we’ve done this before.
• Oops! Spoke too soon. I don’t have Betty. She called in sick for only the 2nd time in more than a year. Sore throat and a fever. What are the odds? Okay, what now. Call Jessica. Sure she can come in. Of course, by now we’re within minutes of opening time and she’s still in bed. Gonna be at least an hour. I can handle it, though. I open the door and step inside and what’s that? Over there in the floor? What a mess! Have we been broken into by hoodlum vandals? Uh, no.
• The culprit was the fierce wind and rain from the storm overnight. It found some spots in our roof, deluged us with rain water, and ceiling tiles collapsed from the weight of the rain water. When they hit the floor, they broke into gobs of mush. Yuck. Half a rack of pants were soaked and covered in bits of ceiling tile matter. (Note to any diaper designer types: disposable diapers have NOTHING on ceiling tiles. Those babies can hold their water.  Might want to look into these things. Seriously. You know how lightweight those tiles are when dry. They weigh nothing. My 22 month old grandson can hold them over his head. But wet? Incredible! We scooped 1 (that’s right – ONE) soggy, disintegrating, tile, into a rubbermaid tote and when I bent to pick it up, I was stunned. That thing was heavy. I couldn’t believe it. I had to drag the darned thing to the back. It had to be a good 15-20 lbs.)
• Okay, I can handle this. I’m running behind now but like my friend Sheila says, I’m “rolling” with it. Wonder what that noise is? Oh, I see. It’s just dripping water on the other side of the store. And look; it’s not ruining clothes over there.  Isn’t that nice? A lucky break that there’s a nice, fluffy, high quality, sofa, conveniently located right beneath the leak. And look – that cushion is really absorbing some water. I’m impressed. It might not hold as much as a ceiling tile but it’s still pretty impressive.
• Moments later, all the lights are on and I’m semi-ready to greet the public. Hmm….kinda dark in here… Well, it is a gloomy, rainy, dreary, day. Guess that’s it. NOT! It’s another blooming light gone out. Oh, well, on the bright side, the gloppy mess of ceiling tile stuff isn’t quite so noticeable in this “intimate” lighting. Then again, there’s bound to be a few spoil sports to complain about wet shoes when they squish through the carpet to get a better look at the fabulous tank tops I put out Saturday night.

With all these thoughts going through my head, while I’m on the verge of deciding whether to lock the doors, sit down and cry, or what, I had a new customer come in. I apologized for the mess and explained that it wasn’t cleaned up because today - of all days – I had 3 people out of work and the other girl wouldn’t be in for another hour. She just looked at me, commiserated with the comment, “well, you know, when it rains – it pours”, then burst out laughing when she realized what she’d said and then followed up with the obvious, ”in your case – literally”. I had to laugh with her. And that did it for me. That comment and that laugh, at that exact moment, was exactly what I needed. Screw the rain. I had a business to run and work to do. I didn’t have time to sit on my pity pot. It was time for action.

This is my last clear thought for about an hour and a half. Obviously, I got through it in a somewhat capable manner. I remember laughing quite a bit (scarey, huh? things fall apart and I laugh….is this a sign of something I should worry about?)  Thankfully, I did have sense enough to not forewarn Jessica of our “little leak problem”. Poor thing. She walked right into it – and there was no way out. She spent most of the morning on damage control.

There was more good news, though. My landlord was Johnny-on-the-spot (literally – his first name is Johnny) . He immediately came over, checked out the damage and got on the horn with the roofers. Too bad the roofers aren’t quite so quick to fall in line. That was Tuesday and it’s now Sunday. I still have rubbermaid totes strategically located about the store. What? You thought “buckets” were used for leaks? At Changes we do everything in a big way. Leaky roofs are no exception.

Incredibly, everyone has been amazing. Customers and consignors alike have dealt with the still squishy carpets (did I mention we had another deluge of rain on Thursday?) and walked around the tubs of rainwater to shop our racks of new arrivals, with great attitudes. I’ve not heard one single complaint. It’s refreshing to see just how understanding, friendly, and caring, people really are. We couldn’t ask for better.

 

Thanks, guys.