I’ve been debating whether or not to write this blog post because it’s a bit embarrassing. But at the same time, it’s awfully funny. And, as usual, humor trumps embarrassment.
I flew to DC a few weeks ago so I could visit with an alumna I have come to adore. We’ll call her Dorothy.
I arrived the evening before my appointment with Dorothy and drove to my hotel, stopping briefly at a CVS to pick up a few toiletries I had accidentally left behind.
The next morning, I got ready for my visit. On my way to Dorothy’s house, I stopped at a shop to pick up a bouquet of fresh flowers I walked into the store, browsed for a few moments, and poked through the refrigerated case. It was late January, and there weren’t too many options.
After a few minutes, the florist – a friendly, middle-aged Asian woman – appeared from the back and asked if she could help me. I told her what I wanted, and she began digging through the refrigerator and pulling out blooms.
Suddenly, she stopped and turned around.
“I’m sorry, I really need to tell you that you smell amazing. What are you wearing?”
I paused. I had slapped some of the hotel lotion on my hands before leaving the room, but it was pretty much completely scent-free.
“I don’t think I’m wearing anything,” I answered.
“No – you definitely are. You smell so wonderful – just sweet enough to be enticing without being overpowering.”
“Oh. Ummm……I really don’t think I’m wearing anything at all.”
She shrugged and went back to choosing flowers. Once she had a handful, she placed them on her counter and started snipping the ends. “I just really think you need to share the name of your perfume with me – I promise not to tell anyone else. It’s so lovely!”
I felt weird – I was 100% sure I was not wearing any perfume, as I had forgotten almost all my toiletries.
And then it dawned on me. She could smell my new deodorant.
The florist continued to gush: “Would you mind writing down the name of it for me?” She thrust a pen and a pad of paper into my hands.
I tried one last time, “I really don’t think I know what I’m wearing.”
“Please?” she pleaded. “Please – I need to get it.”
“OK,” I said and touched the pen to paper. What in the world was I going to write? After an internal debate, I decided to go with the truth.
Secret Invisible Solid – Spring Breeze.
I slid the pad of paper back across the counter. The florist picked it up without looking, and beamed.
“Oh, thank you thank you thank you! You made me such a happy person today. For that, I will give you 10% off your flowers.”
I thanked her and paid, took my bouquet, and walked quickly out of the store to avoid any further conversation.
But sometimes I wonder… did she actually go buy it? Does it make her happy? Did I make a real difference in someone’s quality of life?
I sure hope so. If not, it is probably a funny story she’s telling her friends and family on her blog right now.
Posted by Getting to know our (underground) neighbors | Going Back Home on March 15, 2013 at 7:47 pm
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