Ringing in the New Year
“Ready to go?” Peter already had a foot out the door.
“Now?” I asked.
It was all happening so fast, but the night before Peter and I had decided to take our first look at engagement rings.
I was excited and petrified. I reminded myself it can’t hurt to look, and at this point in my life my only reason for procrastination was fear.
“Okay, I’m right behind you,” I hollered back as the door locked behind me.
Our first stop was the giant-sized jeweler on the corner of Reisterstown and Route 1. The place was enormous- the size of a factory warehouse- oh wait- it was a factory warehouse.
“Good morning” chirped the people greeter at the front door. She wore a floral suit, it looked polyester and was probably a great bargain at the local Wal-Mart. I wondered how a place that made such expensive jewelry could dress their greeter in such a cheap suit. I smiled and we walked on.
“Hello, welcome, I’m John,” said the oversized man standing at the glass counter. “How can I help you two today?”
Peter took control. “We’re engagement ring shopping.” He said matter-of-factly.
John’s eyebrows twitched, and he stepped over to the next counter. ”You’ve come to the right place….let me show you our faaaantastic selection.”
Did he have an accent? I hadn’t noticed it before. I listened more closely.
“What do you think of theeeese?”
My mistake- it wasn’t an accent. John just lengthened his words for emphaaaaaasis.
“Yeah, they’re okay, but not exactly what I’m looking for,” I answered. The rings looked old and flat.
“This must be the most exciting day of your liiiife.” John smiled.
God forbid. If this was the most exciting day of my life- why had I already guessed it would take 5 long strides to make it out the front door?
I smiled back.
“What’s in this counter?” Peter asked.
“Oh, that’s our 'previously loved' ring selection.” John replied.
“Previously loved as in “used”?” I wondered. I suddenly felt like we were talking to a guy named Larry trying to sell us his “pre-owned” vehicle. No thanks.
Peter grabbed my hand, smiled, and told Larry- I mean- John- we would think about it.
We walked out together. We were both a little discouraged.
But the search continued.
The crisp glass doors of Jay Brown’s jewelers swung wide open, and a woman gave us a wide toothy smile. She was a bit short, in her 50’s and very plastic looking. It’s almost as if she had glued her face to her head.
“Welcome,” she smiled, “I’m Shirley, may I help you?”
I wanted to run, but Peter had a strong grasp on my sweating palm.
“We’re looking for rings,” he chimed.
I loved the way his eyes sparkled. I instantly relaxed.
“Right this way,” Shirley said, and we followed her though the glass corridors to a velvet seat in the back of the room.
Shirley walked a fine line between enthusiastic and pushy. Nevertheless, the search went smoothly. I tried on rings of all shapes and sizes. Some bright, some gaudy, some plain, and one that felt absolutely perfect. Peter agreed- the ring was gorgeous.
I could see Shirley’s smile brightening.
“I could make you a good deal,” she whispered. And wrote a number on the tiny piece of paper she held in her hand. She flashed it at us.
“Ouch!” I cried. I felt like I had been hit by a golf ball at 180 yards.
“Oh, c’mon Jan, you knew that was the ball park price didn’t you?” Peter asked.
He was really fantastic in these situations.
“I dunno,” I stammered, “I hadn’t really thought about it.” But deep down inside I think I knew what we were getting into.
“Let’s look a little more.” I said.
Shirley frowned, but quickly covered it up. “Okay, kids, but this offer won’t be here forever. Just remember- ask for ‘Shirley’," she chimed.
Sure thing Shirls- we won’t forget ya.
The truth is- we probably won’t. The ring is beautiful. It’s bright and simple but has the perfect bit of flair. It’s me. And Peter loves it.
We looked at a few other jewelry stores that day but nothing could compete with that ring and Shirley. I have a feeling we’ll visit her again.
And maybe next time I won’t have sweaty palms, an escape plan, and a golf-ball sized fear of commitment fly out of nowhere to remind me that I’m making a tremendous decision.
“Now?” I asked.
It was all happening so fast, but the night before Peter and I had decided to take our first look at engagement rings.
I was excited and petrified. I reminded myself it can’t hurt to look, and at this point in my life my only reason for procrastination was fear.
“Okay, I’m right behind you,” I hollered back as the door locked behind me.
Our first stop was the giant-sized jeweler on the corner of Reisterstown and Route 1. The place was enormous- the size of a factory warehouse- oh wait- it was a factory warehouse.
“Good morning” chirped the people greeter at the front door. She wore a floral suit, it looked polyester and was probably a great bargain at the local Wal-Mart. I wondered how a place that made such expensive jewelry could dress their greeter in such a cheap suit. I smiled and we walked on.
“Hello, welcome, I’m John,” said the oversized man standing at the glass counter. “How can I help you two today?”
Peter took control. “We’re engagement ring shopping.” He said matter-of-factly.
John’s eyebrows twitched, and he stepped over to the next counter. ”You’ve come to the right place….let me show you our faaaantastic selection.”
Did he have an accent? I hadn’t noticed it before. I listened more closely.
“What do you think of theeeese?”
My mistake- it wasn’t an accent. John just lengthened his words for emphaaaaaasis.
“Yeah, they’re okay, but not exactly what I’m looking for,” I answered. The rings looked old and flat.
“This must be the most exciting day of your liiiife.” John smiled.
God forbid. If this was the most exciting day of my life- why had I already guessed it would take 5 long strides to make it out the front door?
I smiled back.
“What’s in this counter?” Peter asked.
“Oh, that’s our 'previously loved' ring selection.” John replied.
“Previously loved as in “used”?” I wondered. I suddenly felt like we were talking to a guy named Larry trying to sell us his “pre-owned” vehicle. No thanks.
Peter grabbed my hand, smiled, and told Larry- I mean- John- we would think about it.
We walked out together. We were both a little discouraged.
But the search continued.
The crisp glass doors of Jay Brown’s jewelers swung wide open, and a woman gave us a wide toothy smile. She was a bit short, in her 50’s and very plastic looking. It’s almost as if she had glued her face to her head.
“Welcome,” she smiled, “I’m Shirley, may I help you?”
I wanted to run, but Peter had a strong grasp on my sweating palm.
“We’re looking for rings,” he chimed.
I loved the way his eyes sparkled. I instantly relaxed.
“Right this way,” Shirley said, and we followed her though the glass corridors to a velvet seat in the back of the room.
Shirley walked a fine line between enthusiastic and pushy. Nevertheless, the search went smoothly. I tried on rings of all shapes and sizes. Some bright, some gaudy, some plain, and one that felt absolutely perfect. Peter agreed- the ring was gorgeous.
I could see Shirley’s smile brightening.
“I could make you a good deal,” she whispered. And wrote a number on the tiny piece of paper she held in her hand. She flashed it at us.
“Ouch!” I cried. I felt like I had been hit by a golf ball at 180 yards.
“Oh, c’mon Jan, you knew that was the ball park price didn’t you?” Peter asked.
He was really fantastic in these situations.
“I dunno,” I stammered, “I hadn’t really thought about it.” But deep down inside I think I knew what we were getting into.
“Let’s look a little more.” I said.
Shirley frowned, but quickly covered it up. “Okay, kids, but this offer won’t be here forever. Just remember- ask for ‘Shirley’," she chimed.
Sure thing Shirls- we won’t forget ya.
The truth is- we probably won’t. The ring is beautiful. It’s bright and simple but has the perfect bit of flair. It’s me. And Peter loves it.
We looked at a few other jewelry stores that day but nothing could compete with that ring and Shirley. I have a feeling we’ll visit her again.
And maybe next time I won’t have sweaty palms, an escape plan, and a golf-ball sized fear of commitment fly out of nowhere to remind me that I’m making a tremendous decision.
posted by Jan32 at 1:49 PM
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