Lots to learn in the bridal industry I’m finding out. It’s not just selling a fancy dress to the Princess Bride as I’d expected. From the first day when my manager sent me home with three bridal magazines to ‘study’, along with books “The Law of Attraction” and “Jeffrey Gitomer’s Little Red Book of Selling”, I knew she was a bit more serious about this stuff than I’d ever be. Okay, fine, I’ll play along. Besides, as everything in my life, it’s only temporary. It’s also an opportunity to learn something different and experience something new.
The first day of work found me engulfed in a sea of white. Every dress looked the same to me; big, fluffy, lacey, flouncy and white. Lots of white. Later I learned they were not all white. They were varying shades of white, diamond white, ivory, natural, dark ivory. Learning the fabrics is even more complicated. Satin, silk satin, silk/poly blend satin, Japanese satin, Indian silk, taffeta, silk satin taffeta, Duchess, silk crepe, silk organza, silk voile is just a start in my very long lesson on fabrics. My mentor lost me after the satin. I was frantically trying to take notes, but when I went back to review it was all just a bundle of words that really made no sense at all.
Next are the silhouettes: sheathe, mermaid, trumpet, A-line, ballroom. Sounds easy enough until you’re caught putting a trumpet in with the A-lines. The difference is very subtle when on a wooden hanger- believe me!
Alencon lace, French lace, Chantilly lace – wait, isn’t that a song?
“Don’t worry, you’ll learn,” my mentors assure me. Oh really? I’m not so sure. This is a temp job, after all. Technically it’s an 8 week gig. The learning curve for a non-fashionista like me could be a lot longer. Just when I think I’m starting to distinguish a Pronovias gown from a Paloma Blanca gown, I’m stood corrected.
After a week studying my books, taking copious notes, pouring through racks upon racks of the fluff, I start to become more familiar with the inventory. Knowing the inventory is key for a successful sales consultant. Clearly. Then walk in a gaggle of bridesmaids and I’m the only one available to assist. Crap. Bridesmaids’ dresses are a whole other ball game. They come in a lot more colors, shapes and styles. And so do the bridesmaids. One wedding party will contain a variety of heights, shapes, body issues to hide, body issues to augment, and ONE bride to please. After spending an hour with a group of girls trying to decide upon the chocolate brown or the truffle for their dresses, I learn by going on the designer’s website that neither color is still available in the particular style of their choice. Our in-store color swatch book is out of date. ARGH. The whole process of buying a wedding gown and the accompanied bridesmaids’ dresses is about like buying a car. Actually, I think people put less time and effort into buying their car. This job requires a good deal of acting as well. While my face is smiling and saying “this is the perfect gown for your lovely figure,” my cynical old mind is saying “chances are you won’t even be married to this guy in five years, so save your dough or spend your money on something you can really use, like a nice vacation.”
Monday, February 16, 2009
Sunday, February 1, 2009
New Job New Shoes
I accepted a part-time sales position at the bridal shop. Hey, they called me back almost two months later practically begging. How could I say ‘no’? Okay, really how could I say ‘no’ when rent is due and with thousands of layoffs in the area and virtually no decent jobs available at the moment work needs to be had? I’ve had far more greenbacks outgoing than incoming these past few months, so when I said I’d do most anything, I really did mean anything. I’m sure there are worse things I could be doing. I’m sure I’ve done them already.
Besides, this is just a temporary bandaid to rescue me from my current lack of funds dilemma. I’ve been applying for jobs- “real” jobs - all over the country, as well as outside the country. One job in particular, I think I’m quite interested in. I’m in stage two of the hiring process. The stage where they’ve reviewed my resume and have now asked me to submit some ‘homework’ assignments. I did that and now I wait.
I say I think I am interested in this position because accepting a job is similar to buying a pair of shoes. You see them sitting prettily in the shop window looking very stunning and appealing (that would be the job posting), you inquire about the designer, the materials, and cost (read the job description), you picture yourself wearing the shoes (you envision yourself actually doing the job). You decide ‘yes, these shoes I’d like to try on’ (you apply for the job). You then walk around the store in the shoes, trying them on carpet, on the hardwood floor, determining if you really want them, thinking about outfits and occasions you would wear them with(you go to the job interview and find out as much as you can all the while selling yourself). You take the shoes (accept the job offer) excited about your new purchase. But until you actually wear the shoes for a full day, in your practical everyday walk-a-day life, running for buses and traipsing through the rain, you really can’t tell if the shoes are the right fit.
I have dozens of shoes that haven’t worked out. They are ‘date’ shoes. Shoes I can only wear if a date picks me up from my front door, carries me to the car and drops me off in front of the restaurant while he parks. Minimal, if any, actually walking involved. I rarely wear these shoes. I also have dozens of jobs that haven’t quite worked out. My well-rounded talents and diverse interests are glowing on my lengthy resume, however. I’ve had to start bundling jobs to keep it under ten pages.
I’ve applied to jobs in Chicago, Honolulu, D.C., San Diego for example. My mind begins to race. What if I actually get a job in one of these places? Will I like living there? Do I want to live there? Suddenly my love/hate relationship with Seattle leans more on the love side of the meter. I’ll miss the mountains, the sound, the islands, my great friends, plentiful arts and music scene, restaurants and happy hours. What about my terrific low rent apartment with the spacious balcony and incredible view?
Wait. Am I seriously considering my idiotic apartment in all this? I’ve lost my mind. Anyway, I’m still trying on jobs and haven’t even gotten to the point of having to make a decision. I’m sure if and when I do, it’ll be the right decision. Besides, as my dear brother has previously pointed out, like the shoes I can return to the store, I can always return to Seattle.
Besides, this is just a temporary bandaid to rescue me from my current lack of funds dilemma. I’ve been applying for jobs- “real” jobs - all over the country, as well as outside the country. One job in particular, I think I’m quite interested in. I’m in stage two of the hiring process. The stage where they’ve reviewed my resume and have now asked me to submit some ‘homework’ assignments. I did that and now I wait.
I say I think I am interested in this position because accepting a job is similar to buying a pair of shoes. You see them sitting prettily in the shop window looking very stunning and appealing (that would be the job posting), you inquire about the designer, the materials, and cost (read the job description), you picture yourself wearing the shoes (you envision yourself actually doing the job). You decide ‘yes, these shoes I’d like to try on’ (you apply for the job). You then walk around the store in the shoes, trying them on carpet, on the hardwood floor, determining if you really want them, thinking about outfits and occasions you would wear them with(you go to the job interview and find out as much as you can all the while selling yourself). You take the shoes (accept the job offer) excited about your new purchase. But until you actually wear the shoes for a full day, in your practical everyday walk-a-day life, running for buses and traipsing through the rain, you really can’t tell if the shoes are the right fit.
I have dozens of shoes that haven’t worked out. They are ‘date’ shoes. Shoes I can only wear if a date picks me up from my front door, carries me to the car and drops me off in front of the restaurant while he parks. Minimal, if any, actually walking involved. I rarely wear these shoes. I also have dozens of jobs that haven’t quite worked out. My well-rounded talents and diverse interests are glowing on my lengthy resume, however. I’ve had to start bundling jobs to keep it under ten pages.
I’ve applied to jobs in Chicago, Honolulu, D.C., San Diego for example. My mind begins to race. What if I actually get a job in one of these places? Will I like living there? Do I want to live there? Suddenly my love/hate relationship with Seattle leans more on the love side of the meter. I’ll miss the mountains, the sound, the islands, my great friends, plentiful arts and music scene, restaurants and happy hours. What about my terrific low rent apartment with the spacious balcony and incredible view?
Wait. Am I seriously considering my idiotic apartment in all this? I’ve lost my mind. Anyway, I’m still trying on jobs and haven’t even gotten to the point of having to make a decision. I’m sure if and when I do, it’ll be the right decision. Besides, as my dear brother has previously pointed out, like the shoes I can return to the store, I can always return to Seattle.
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