... the fit bit I gave myself for a Christmas gift, I walked over seven miles yesterday. In my opinion, that is highly unlikely, even though it was a long day, and I was on my feets from 7 am until nearly 5 pm, except for a thirty minute lunch break. We are scheduled to take an hour for lunch, so everyone actually has a nine-hour day on-site, unless you leave the store to go eat. When you take that sixty minutes off in the middle, you end up with forty. Heaven help the person who accidentally gets forty hours and one minute over!
I've always been curious to know how many miles I put in on a really busy day: which would be any day before any crazy-making holiday. Since yesterday was February 14, it qualifies as the most crazy-making of any on the calendar for people in the floral business, partially because it is the only one that you cannot spread out over a week. Easter and Mother's Day are not such complete pandemonium, and generally purchases for those events take place over a number of days before that Sunday. But V-Day: wham-o!
Often, after working all day I can come home and rest, sit down and ponder the universe, possibly take an unintentional nap, and get up to wander in the yard, or walk down the street. But yesterday, when I got off work, I was worthless. Sitting here, looking out at all the mess in the yard after the bad windstorm on Tuesday, I was completely inert, unable to generate the energy to go out there and pick up the first limb.
We pretty much sold everything we had. When I went in to work this morning, there was one vase in the back cooler, an order that did not get picked up/purchased with a dozen red roses. I put it out on the sales floor, in our reach-in cooler for sale. Thinking if 'he' went home last night without remembering, getting them today was not going to get him out of the doghouse, so I might as well try to sell them to someone else.
A few bunches of cut flowers left over, things that just came in from the warehouse on Thursday, but so fresh, with tight blooms, you could not tell what color many of the flowers were. It looked like nothing but scraps were left when I got there. About eighteen helium-filled mylar heart-shaped balloons left, but I think we must have filled up over 500. No roses, nearly no plants, almost no but flowers left to sell by the time the store closes, which I assume means it was a roaring success.
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