Panic! What panic?

As many of you are aware we have recently - and not so recently - been dealing with a few issues of the small furry rodent kind. Surrounded by so many other businesses with food waste and scraps, as well as all the building that's been going on I guess it's to be expected. I can only imagine the nightmare the take-aways must have with them when I'm battling to keep on top of them! 

Anyway, what goes on in their premises, and how many furry residents they have is none of my concern. I do now have to keep the back door shut at all times - not good for someone like me who enjoys the cold and loves to have fresh air circulating - but it's the only way to minimise how many are getting in. Obviously this doesn't stop them all but it's definitely helped to minimise them. 

I hate the idea of poisoning them. At the end of the day they didn't ask to be born and regardless of how they are viewed, they are still a living creature. A poisoning death is slow and painful; it also has a massively detrimental affect on other wildlife too. Birds of prey - owls, buzzards, kites etc - will also die a slow, painful death if they get hold of a rat that has been poisoned. Foxes, domestic cats and dogs with a tendancy to have that killer instinct within them, will die a slow painful death if they kill, or come across a poisoned rat. I don't want to be responsible for someones much-loved pet dying, or a wild bird whose population is already in decline due to the way humans live their lives, so I have gone out-of-my way to remove the furries from the shop as humanely as possible. Finally, having seen, heard or had any flowers eaten for ten days I assumed the issue was resolved.

Then Friday 11th October happened! 

I was preparing for two weeks away—a decision which, I’m aware, was met with some dissatisfaction. One particular customer emailed during the closure, saying, “If you can afford to take a holiday, you can afford staff to keep your shop open.” While I appreciate his disappointment at our temporary closure, I must point out that I work six or seven days a week, 50 weeks a year, and am certainly entitled to time off periodically. On this occasion, my two-week break was medically advised, and it’s something I took to ensure a full recovery and future well-being. As for affording additional staff, I assure Mr. "Fleas of a Thousand Dogs" that, if feasible, I would absolutely invest in more help. And in case anyone’s wondering, this holiday was actually a gift!

It’s worth mentioning how surprising it can be when customers assume small business owners should never take time off, and treat this new as though we owe them detailed explanations for taking a break. 

But I digress—back to the tale of October 11!

Since I was planning to be away, I only ordered the flowers I needed for the scheduled orders on Thursday. This included some white double chrysanthemums required for a heart tribute, which a regular customer was scheduled to collect from me at 9:00 a.m. on Friday. As usual, I ordered a few extra bunches of the white chrysanthemums - a habit of mine that often results in excess stock, and is most likely the reason we never actually make a profit!

After giving the flowers a thorough drink, I decided to prepar the base of the heart tribute on Thursday evening before I left. This way, the only work left for Friday morning was adding the roses and other floral accents arriving for the tribute sprays. I left happy in the knowledge I was all prepared for what lay ahead of me, and for the break which would be following later on the Friday. 

I couldn't eat or drink anything on the Friday morning - a Sarah without a cup of tea first thing is not a nice creature to experience - but I was off on my travels later, things were getting sorted and life was looking up. I came up to work at 08:00 and as I walked by the workbench I'd left the tribute on I noticed a few petals on the floor. I didn't think too much of it though, assuming I'd knocked a flower when I laid it on the bench that had shattered and was easily replacable. I continued passed to turn on the kitchen light (didn't need it but I am a creature of habit!) beford turning around to pick up the tribute, move it to my own workbench before proceeding to put the flower accents on the tribute. 

All of the internal security cameras will have caught my expression/reaction - I must check to see if it was as bad as it felt - for I found myself faced with this... ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

I can't bring myself to show you the whole photograph; it brings back too many anguished memories! Suffice to say the whole tribute looked just like it. Where the previous evening there had been a lovely solid white chrysanthemum base, with some ivy trailed around the edges, not sat the odd one-or-two flowers, stems, gaping holes showing the foam and a smattering of petals dotted about... ⬇️⬇️

I had too much going on in my life to be dealing with such an experience that morning. My stomach lurched, I felt sick, angry, shocked and goodness knows how many other emotions. I wanted to cry but instead found myself laughing maniacally, like I'd finally lost the plot. Thankfully that didn't last long before the Sarah we are all used pulled herself together and reappeared. Disaster was averted, I'd overbought, there was more white chrysanthemem... or was there? Had the furry brought friends along for dinner? Who could I call, where could I go, to get more at such short notice? 

I’m still surprised none of you heard my sigh of relief when I discovered the extra stems were intact. With a bit of rearranging, adding touches of greenery here and there, and making the floral accents a bit fuller, I completed the tribute without my wonderful customer suspecting a thing (well, until she reads this!).

All those years I've chastised myself for over-buying so often, in that moment, at that time, on that very day I could have hugged myself. Who needs to make a profit anyway?

However, next time you hear a friend say, or feel the need to tell a florist "It must be such a joy to be a florist, getting to play with flowers all day. I could only imagine such a stress free job" remind them/yourself of this tale, because I (and all other florists) can heartily assure you being a florist is anything but stress free!