I had the pleasure of meeting a florist who told me all about his job.
He worked in this quaint little flower shop in the middle of the Hudson Valley. I went there. It was lovely, soothing. It seemed like a relaxing place to work. It was.
It was funny, too. He told me all about the ridiculous cards he had to write for people who placed orders.
I'm pretty sure he knows who everyone in town is cheating on their spouses with.
After Redditor urgent-kazoo asked the online community:
"What's the strangest thing you've had to write on a card for a customer?"
"Normally..."
Oddest is how commonly we get asked to "just write something nice." Normally this is from guys sending flowers to their wives, like dude, I don't know her, you really should be better at this than me!
"During college..."
During college, I delivered flowers for a florist and wrote most of the attached cards.
The oddest message I still remember was:
"Hope these delight, I'll see you tonight.
Bottoms UP, Buttercup!"
"I had a customer..."
I had a customer come in 30 minutes before we closed and ask me to throw together a beautiful bouquet of roses and sunflowers and lilies and the card said, "Sorry I hit your dog."
"Needless to say..."
I had a customer order flowers to someone congratulating them on their new tumor and wishing them a protracted and painful death. Needless to say, I refused to accept the order and threatened to quit when my boss tried to force the issue. Fortunately, the owner was in the shop, heard the ruckus, and immediately overruled my boss.
"In a very wealthy community..."
I AM a florist, here are some I remember.
"No one expects the Spanish Inquisition"
Had a guy buy flowers for his wife AND mistress in one go, wrote the same card for both
In a very wealthy community I worked in there was a swingers party every year called "Band Camp." These people would send $150 arrangements to each other with these weird messages like "Cant wait for you to show me your flute skills at Band Camp" or "Thanks for coming over with Frank to 'tune up' my piano for Band Camp." We could not figure out what was going on!
I eventually met a dog walker in that town who had been invited to Band Camp, and the richies gather up all the attractive landscapers, dog walkers, housekeepers, etc and invite them to Band Camp (one of the estates throws a big party with bands) and everyone tries to f*** the help. I was slightly offended I never got invited.
A lot of sappy sweet s***. We do read them and discuss any unusual ones amongst ourselves. What I don't think a lot of people realize is that we get allllll the dirt on people. We are there for births, weddings, graduations, deaths.
"I also used to have old men come in..."
I worked at a florist for a year or so as a teenager. Some funeral arrangements had REALLY weird notes attached. I remember one that just said "Sorry mom died. I won't be at the funeral so these flowers represent me. Tell Dad." It was obviously a kid (adult child I'm assuming) who wasn't too crazy about their mother.
There was one, "Happy birthday, and never call me again." Sending flowers definitely screams "never call me again," amirite?
I also used to have old men come in and buy bouquets for their dead wives graves, and old women, too. That was just so sad. I always took time to talk to them.
"Three things stand out..."
I worked at a flower shop that occasionally did gift baskets. Three things stand out.
One, someone ordered a basket of dead flowers sent to someone. I'm not sure why.
Two, someone sent somebody else a junk food basket. We did gourmet food, Christmas food, candy type gift baskets. They wanted a junk food basket and paid for it.
Number three doesn't really fit into the thread, but it is a great story that the owner told. Sometime in the 1970s, one of the big mafia bosses in the area was killed. This particular shop did the flowers. The flowers were incredibly extravagant, expensive, and so forth. The 'family' guys came into his office and paid him something like $10,000 in cash for the flowers.
"I have a florist friend..."
I have a florist friend who once had to write the words... "Flowers so your baby will be a girl." On a card for a bouquet for a pregnant woman.
"Some cards..."
We do fulfillment for an online flower company where we ship out about 100 orders per day. The message card is automatically printed. Every now and then i'll scan some of the messages and some of them are very interesting.
Some cards get very sexual. Like graphic. About the other night they had. Or what they love about a person's private parts. I guess they figure no one else would be reading these. 99.9% of the time your message would not be read.
Lots of people apologizing. I specifically recall someone apologizing for cheating.
"Nice life"
Not me, but my mum.
She had a lady come in, who picked out some beautiful roses, and she had to write "F*ck you, Tod. Have a nice life with that wh*re."
"Gucci"
I'm not a florist, but as a cake decorator I had a mother come up to us and ask us to write "Catz is Gucci, crotchfruit" on a cake.
It was a basic Valentine's day cake, with the whole cutesy heart theming for the time of the year. The mother said it was for her kids, whom she calls her "crotchfruit" and she didn't seem to understand it was cringey until all the decorators passed it around not wanting to write it.
"Hurts to miss you"
"I wanna write I miss you on a rock and throw it at your face so you know how much it hurts to miss you. Love you" laughed so hard at that one I had to show everyone in the shop.
"Karma"
"Karma is a b!tch. You deserve it." Sent to an ex-boss. Just got a cancer diagnosis. They tried finding out who sent it, but he had so many enemies
"Ex-best friend"
Not a florist but I sent dead flowers to an ex of mine. The note said something along the lines of "you really like to f*ck things that are dead to me, so have fun with these" for context he f*cked my ex-best friend.
Sometimes the sentiment is more eye-catching than the flowers.
@pagesix/Instagram
@pagesix/Instagram
@pagesix/Instagram
@pagesix/Instagram
@pagesix/Instagram
@pink/Instagram
@pink/Instagram