Pink Bridezilla

If you’ve read my previous blog, “To Pink or Not to Pink,” you understand that I am not a fan of brides choosing pink for their bridesmaids. I have an example currently in my studio that is probably the most hideous example of this that I have ever seen.

I will start first by saying that the bridesmaid in question (I will call her Samantha*) was a bride of mine. Samantha’s sister is now getting married, and she has chosen this awful rose gold metallic dress with a herringbone pattern that has a knotted feature at the middle for her bridesmaids, including Samantha. The only person this would look good on is a size 2 or less. Never mind that there isn’t anyone in her lineup that is a size 2 or less. Samantha, for instance, is definitely Rubenesque in figure, and a knot in the center of a Rubenesque figure is certainly not an asset.

Samantha brought the dress to me and explained that she bought the biggest size they had. Unfortunately, this didn’t begin to fit her. The dress, in addition to having a knot in the front, had a U-shaped back with a bar across to hold the straps in place. So, not only did the zipper not go up all the way, but the bar didn’t even make it halfway across Samantha’s back.

What I ended up doing was taking the scraps I cut off the bottom of her dress (because it needed to be hemmed) as well as the scraps from another of the bridesmaid’s dresses to fill in the back for her. I got rid of the U shape, made it a V to match the front neckline, and put in a longer zipper so the dress was at least more supportive of her curvaceous figure.

Miraculously, also with the help of a pair of Spanx, the dress looked reasonable on her post alterations. It was never going to look fantastic, as the design elements didn’t go with Samantha’s figure. Samantha even confided in me that ALL of the bridesmaids hated this dress.

I understand that, from the bride’s point of view, this is HER day and she should be able to do whatever she pleases. HOWEVER . . . for the love of all your friends, sisters and other relatives who have to wear these often hideous frocks, PLEASE have a care for what these wonderful folks will look like in the photos. If you can’t make them look fabulous, at least don’t make them look hideous.

After this kerfuffle is done, I fully expect to get a video from Samantha with her and the other bridesmaids burning all these dresses in effigy in her friend’s outdoor fire pit. I also plan to drink to their fiery demise as I watch said video J

Cheers y’all! Until next time!

Heather

*Name changed to protect the innocent and to avoid pissing off the bride in question LOL

The Ultimate Bridezilla

When most folks think of the term bridezilla, they picture the tantrum throwing, sailor swearing, hysterically sobbing whack job that you generally see on reality programs like Say Yes to the Dress (which is one of the reasons I don’t watch that show, incidentally). In my line of work, I’ve been exposed to enough of them, including Mom-zillas, but I would have to say the worst one I’ve come across was far calmer, far scarier, and more insidious than the tantrum throwing toddler in an adult body.

The appointment began like many others: I welcomed the bride and her best friend/maid of honor into my studio, talked about the dress, did the fitting, discussed options, and talked about what comes next. In many cases, the bridesmaid asks if she can bring me her dress too. The answer is always yes, as I do alterations for the entire bridal party.

At the time, I didn’t think anything of it when the bride told me that she was getting married in the Mormon Temple and her dress needed to cover her temple garments, underwear worn by followers of the Mormon faith after they have taken part in the endowment ceremony. These garments are required for any adult who previously participated in the endowment ceremony to enter a temple. They remind me of saint medals worn by the Catholics, yarmulkes worn by Jewish men, and hajibs worn by Muslim women. They are symbols of their faith. I’ve known a handful of devout Mormons in my life, and these garments are a BIG deal to them. Something else that should be mentioned is that, if you haven’t gone through the endowment ceremony, you WON’T be allowed in the temple. No exceptions. So, unlike the other three examples that I mentioned, this one is representative of exclusivity.

Okay, so the stage is set. Enter the maid of honor (MOH) on her own for a fitting appointment for her dress. When I answered the door, there she was, sans dress. Usually when this happens, something else has gone awry in the woman’s life, so I asked if she was okay. She attempted not to burst into tears . . . and failed miserably. I invited her in and scooped her into my arms for a much-needed hug (don’t worry . . . it was pre-COVID). In my line of work, I’m often called upon to play psychologist.

I sat her down, provided tissue, wine, and chocolate, and offered to listen to whatever she needed to say. Slowly, the story poured out between her tears. Apparently, the two women had been thick as thieves through high school and college even though the MOH was not a member of the Mormon Church (not that her friend hadn’t tried). They both dated another set of best friends, neither of whom were Mormons either. When they graduated from high school, the MOH and her beau went separate ways, but her friend received a proposal. The bride apparently agreed on the condition that her fiancé not only become Mormon but also go through the endowment ceremony.

At this point, I didn’t quite understand or remember what the big deal was, so I asked for clarification. She then told me that the only people who would be allowed to attend the wedding were the bride’s parents (see paragraph 3). I was aghast. I asked why they didn’t just elope instead of making a big deal out of it. The MOH continued, saying that it wasn’t the worst part. She told me that her BFF had chosen another Mormon, someone she’d just met, to stand with her for the ceremony. Now I understood the betrayal. The MOH, who had been the bride’s best friend all through high school and college, was being laid aside like an old doll in favor of someone who had the right credentials.

When I saw the bride for the final fitting, I chose to say nothing. It wasn’t my affair, and karma would take care of her in the end. I never saw the MOH again. I heard nothing back from either of them, so I don’t know what happened with the wedding or their friendship.

From my perspective, it seemed that the MOH was deeply wounded by the bride’s betrayal. It was almost as if the bride was telling the MOH, “I’m getting married now and I don’t need you.”  Don’t get me wrong.  I understand that someone’s faith can be extremely important to them.  It just seemed extremely selfish to me for the bride to treat the person who was supposed to be her best friend in that manner. And it wasn’t just her BFF.  She made crazy demands of her fiancé (as I understand it now, the endowment ceremony is quite the event for which to prepare) and unfair demands of his family and their attendants, as she expected them to help with the reception even though they would be unable to witness the union. With so many easy and loving compromises at her fingertips, it just flummoxed me why she would choose this route … one that excluded so many and damaged so many relationships.  Not a good way to start what should be a joyous transition in your life.

Until next time Dear Readers, may all your bobbins be full and all your seams be straight.

Heather

2019 – The Year in Review

I can’t believe another year has come and is nearly gone. We’re facing the return of the Roaring ‘20s, and I for one can’t be more excited at what’s around the corner for me, personally and professionally.

It cannot be denied that 2019 capped off a decade of highs and a couple of lows, but that’s par for the course for a small business owner, especially one whose livelihood depends on customer satisfaction even when it’s a fact that some customers are never satisfied. However, it equally can’t be denied that no one ever held a gun to my entrepreneurial head. I do what I do for love. Love and – you know – the occasional paycheck.

So, without too much further ado, allow me to share with you some of the highlights and lowlights of 2019:

Uncle Santa Wants You! – It may seem small in the grand scheme of things, but I was so proud to create my first Civil War Santa costume. A little history: in 1863, President Lincoln thought it would be a good idea to create a Santa who had the best interests of the Union at heart – if Santa is for us, who can be against us, right? – and

Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art

that year cartoonist Thomas Nast came up with a visual. Bedecked in red, white, and blue stars and stripes, this figure inspired countless soldiers during the holiday season to end the war in their favor. Now, we’ve all heard of Civil War enactors, but this was the first time I’d ever encountered a Civil War SANTA enactor. Which made me very glad to be a part of history!

Family (Christmas) Tree – In March, I had the honor of attending the annual Santa Family Reunion in Gatlinburg, Tennessee. Hundreds of Santas and Mrs. Clauses hit the Gatlinburg Convention Center and streets for a yearly convention that fills the town with love and laughter. It was more than me just being there as a vendor; I found a whole new family and can’t wait to go back in ’20!

You Can’t Make Everyone Happy All of the Time – This was an admittedly low point in the year. On two occasions, I received word of unhappy customers. Now, I know that’s part and parcel of doing business, but I eventually realized that there exists in this world people who will just never be satisfied. Maybe they’re professional complainers. Maybe they have hopped on the train of thought that if they complain loudly enough they’ll get their goods/services/meals/projects at a steeply discounted rate or even free. I have to thank my business coach for ensuring that I had my terms and conditions of service prominently displayed and also made as part of my contracts with customers. As a result, even the Better Business Bureau agreed with my side and dropped the claims against me. But I have to admit it still stung and made me seriously consider my continuation as the Singing Seamstress.

Tying the Knot – And this is the ‘yang’ to the previous paragraph’s ‘yin’ – For the second year in a row, I was named to Knot’s “Best of Weddings.” This is an honor that no one’s personal agenda can take away from me. With more than a hundred 5-star ratings on The Knot – inarguably the Internet’s premier central hub for weddings and brides – I was galvanized and inspired to keep up the hard work and do everything in my power to earn a THIRD award in a row in 2020. I’ll keep you posted!

The Faces Behind the Masks – If you’ve been keeping up with my blog over the past few months, you’ll know I had the joy of signing contracts with two amazing business entities to provide costumes for their mascots. The Houston Texans’ mascot – Toro the bull – has worn several of my creations (meaning that when he’s televised on a game, I’ve got MILLIONS of people checking out my work!) and I even got to help brighten the life of his bride. The other mascot I’m not at liberty to discuss (corporate rules), but if you had found yourself on the road and pulling into a particular large convenience store because you were craving some kind of beaver-type snack, you might have seen one of thirteen costumes I created for this company. Nameless or not, it was an honor and a pleasure (and a lot of hard work on limited time!) to craft these costumes.

Lone Star Roundup – Grapevine, Texas was one of my destinations of choice this year when I attended theLone Star Roundup, an annual event that includes a fashion show; here are several of my costumes being featured in the show. If you haven’t heard of Lone Star Santas, you need to check them out here!

Reaching Out – I think, in closing, that the biggest highlight of 2019 was reaching so many of you. Your word of mouth has done wonders for my business, and I’ve loved posting blogs and memes and photos and observations and jokes and everything else I can think of to entertain, inform, and inspire you. And your responses have inspired me. From the bottom of my heart, I thank you for your support and patronage, and I’m SO looking forward to stepping into the Roaring ‘20s with you.

Now, it’s YOUR turn… what are some of YOUR highlights of 2019??

Until next time!

Heather

The Yucky Horror Seamstress Show

It being Halloween and all, I thought I’d share with you GHOULISH TALES OF TERROR. Then I figured it’d be better if I downshifted it a bit, and instead just give you my top five “ickiest” moments as a professional seamstress. What makes them totally spinechilling is that they’re ALL REAL…!

[INSERT SPOOKY MUSIC HERE]

  1. HAMMER GYM OF HORROR – This particular smelly situation has happened to me more than once. Twice, in fact; which is twice more than it should have happened. I refer, of course, to the client who has somehow misjudged his or her timing and has opted to hit the gym before an appointment with me and equally opted to not shower beforehand. Now, you may have heard that I have previous extensive experience in community and professional theatre. And let me tell you that one person’s body odor can wreck an entire production. Same with those who come to my admittedly small studio to get measured or fitted. I beg of you, please take the as-little-as-two-minutes’-time it takes to freshen up the smelly bits. We’re working in close quarters, don’t you know.
  2. SWINGING FROM THE RAFTERS – As a seamstress, ,I have to maintain as much of a detachment to the bodies of my clients as much as a gynecologist. To me, a naked body is something needed to be clothed, preferably by something I’ve created. However, that does NOT mean I encourage you to go commando, whether you’re male or female… and I’ve had both. Please trust me when I say that no seamstress on the planet wants any extra surprises when measuring inseams. However, if you feel you MUST be ‘free and unfettered,’ please refer to Number 1 above and don’t add inappropriate smells to the inappropriate sigh
  3. WHAT, WILL THESE STAINS NE’ER COME OUT? – It’s part of my job to take garments that customers have found that are frequently secondhand and used (the garments, not the customers). I actually get much joy from repurposing or altering something that’s already been created into something new and personal and tailored to the new owner. That being said, there’s been at least one misguided Santa in my life who opted to bring me a full costume that needed re-rendering that hadn’t been washed, laundered, or drycleaned. Like, EVER. The stains and the smells jockeyed for position as to which was the most overt. I actually sort of felt for the kids who might be encountering this particular Jolly (and Smelly) Old Elf at the mall or parties. So much so that I dipped into my own pocket to have the thing professionally cleaned and practically deloused so that I could work on it without gagging. Do me a favor and have your costume, clothes, or gown drycleaned before bringing it to me. If you’re in a pinch, know that I have an entire drawer filled with coupons I’m willing to share.
  4. O HOLEY NIGHT – Believe it or not, there’s something worse than a client who has opted to go commando (see Number 2 above). And that’s wearing undergarments that are – how shall we phrase this? – ‘well worn.’ Yes, yes, I’ve heard the old joke, “Of COURSE I have holes in my underwear; how else would I put my legs through?” but there’s a limit, folks. And while we’re on the topic, skidmarks are something I wish to see ONLY on the road. Not in your unmentionables. Alas, I’ve had both bride and Santa greet me with this. So, I beg of you, when prepping for an appointment with me (or any other seamstress or tailor out there), remember what your mother told you: wear clean underwear!
  5. THE CREATURE FROM THE BLACK SOUL – So, most of my above examples have been pretty olfactory centered. Yes, stains are bad and smells are worse. But what is truly horrifying is some of the horrendous attitudes I’ve encountered in my professional life. And not just directed toward me. Too often I’ve come across bridezillas and Santazillas alike. On occasions that are supposed to be all love and happiness, they bare the darkest parts of themselves that are best hidden, if not exorcized. I got into this business because I wanted to use my talents to bring happiness into people’s lives on their special days and to leave the world a little cleaner than I found it. I vastly prefer it when people make it easy for me to do so.

So, those are MY tales of terror! What are YOURS?

Have a safe Halloween… and don’t eat the candy while trying on your wedding gown!

Until next time!

Heather

The big deal about small business

There’s a saying in the stage theatre industry that comes from the great dramatic teacher Constantin Stanislavski: There are no small roles, only small actors. I recently discovered that you could easily change that to the wacky world of entrepreneurship: There are no small businesses, just the humans that run them.

You’ve heard me talk of my history as a weekend seamstress and part-time theatrical costumer as I sold medical supplies and performed other corporate gigs. You’ve also heard me self-congratulate my decision to “go pro” and become the professional Singing Seamstress you know and love today.

But what I haven’t gone into is exactly how such a decision and turning point in my life could have had an equally negative impact on me. That’s right: it isn’t all glitz and glamour.

I’ll preface this with an assurance that I’m not going anywhere; I’m not laying down my hand and walking away from the table. And I certainly don’t intend for this to be a rant-fest. But a couple of issues arose recently that made me – perhaps for the first time – honestly question if what I do is worth the cost of what I do, emotionally and otherwise.

I won’t go into particulars and I certainly won’t name names, but I have to admit if you decide to do an online search of my ratings, you’ll most likely come across what I’m talking about.

The first instance occurred a few months ago. Now, you’ve heard me joke about bridezillas, and you’ve also read me talk about how in many cases they are simply misunderstood. But sometimes, you come across what I term a ‘professional complainer’ – someone who is either never happy or expects to get something lessened in price or free if they express real or feigned unhappiness. These are the type of people who, when dining out, have to have the manager called over to state that it was “the worst experience they ever had” – despite it being a normal experience for anyone else – and not stopping until the meal is comped. And if the meal – or other service like, say, altering a gown – isn’t comped, they feel the need to take their story to the world and facts be darned.

That’s the situation I found myself in. I’ll summarize the experience with my admission that I finally realized the customer isn’t always right. When a bride wants a gown a certain way, and you know it won’t work, don’t cave in to her demands. Especially if it’s a bride who turns out to be a professional complainer who also likes to blame the world at large for everything wrong in her life (as evidenced by her own history of social media posts). She publicly railed against me on my own Facebook page with a litany of false and inaccurate accusations, and I replied in kind. Apparently that really affronted her, because the next I knew, I was being notified by the Better Business Bureau of a complaint with them.

Now, do you know what stung worse than the complaint (which was eventually dismissed)? The accuser’s statement that I should “stick with costuming.” Though it was designed to be belittling (and admittedly had that effect on me), it also denigrated the dozens or hundreds of cosplayers and Renaissance Festival actors and performers that I’ve taken care of over the years.

That woman’s barbs truly did their damage to my commitment, and for the first time I actually wondered if it’s ‘worth it’ to continue working with brides if it meant dealing with more of her ilk. Eventually, I was able to shrug it off and dive right back in, just in time for the ‘busy season.’

The second instance came shortly thereafter. It was actually sort of surreal. The bride in question sent me an email to the effect of “I like you and your work, but I’m going to give you a bad review.” I tried working with her (and indeed also before this point when I once again found myself trying to acquiesce to a bride’s unrealistic demands of their visions for their gowns), but she still publicly posted on a review site. Oddly, she too opted to take a dig at the supposedly relative ‘easiness’ of costuming and how I should just stay with that for my career path.

This time, it took a lot longer – and not a few bottles of wine – before I got out of the resulting funk. At first, I was ashamed of my tears, but was assured by family, friends, and supporters alike that they’d be more concerned if I wasn’t devastated. My pain meant I cared. I honestly had to go through the stages of grief like a bereaved widow to come out of this one.

Again, I replied in an equally public forum; not to get the last word or to be defensive, but to assure clients old and new that there are usually two truths in any given situation, and that they needed both versions to come to educated decisions on their own. Hopefully, my track record of more than 100 five-star reviews outweigh these two 1-stars that hang over me.

As a small businesswoman, I’m realistic. I know I’ve brightened the lives of countless dozens of brides and their families. I know that I can’t please everyone. I know now that the customer isn’t always right and that I’m not in the wrong for pointing it out to them.

I also know the Small Business Association statistics that 30 percent of new businesses fail during the first two years of being open, 50 percent during the first five years, and 66 percent during the first 10. The SBA goes on to state that only 25 percent make it to 15 years or more. Though the odds are better than the commonly held belief that most fail within two years, there are still many businesses that are closing down every year in the United States. I’ve made it longer than many, but not yet as long as most. I don’t know if I’ll ever feel comfortable enough in my chosen career path to rest easy. But that doesn’t mean I stop trying.

So, thank you for allowing me to vent. Now, I’m going to get back to sewing. Wedding gowns and costumes alike.

 

Until next time!

Heather

5 Things that Make You Think She’s a Bridezilla when She Really Isn’t

There’s a great – if not also trite – saying: “You can’t judge a book by its cover.”

I like to add, “True; but you CAN find out what it’ll cost.”

You’ve heard me from time to time refer to the dreaded subclass of client, the Bridezilla. It’s a quaint term designed to lump a myriad of ‘special-case’ customers into a single group. The defining characteristics of a bridezilla are things like being overly demanding, impossible to please, mercurial, and/or unwilling to work WITH the wedding expert in question.

Yes, you’ve heard me talk about them in my blogs (the names have been changed to protect the innocent), and a Tale of a Bridezilla is always good for some extra views from people who enjoy Singing Seamstress Schadenfreude. But today I’d like to dig a little deeper – open the cover, as it were – and discuss a special topic: when you think she’s a bridezilla… but she’s not.

Sure: if it looks like a duck and quacks like a duck… but as I’ve grown my business and worked with all ilks of brides, brides-to-be, bridesmaids, and their families, I have to say I’ve developed a deeper understanding of some of them when they’re – how can one put this? – not at their best. Here are five main reasons I’ve discovered that someone who may SEEM like a bridezilla may NOT be.

  1. Cultural differences – I have a friend who has owned many cars in his life. He recently told me that by far the best car-buying experience he’d ever had was when he bought a Saturn, mainly because back when they were sold they all cost the same. No dickering, no “let me check with my manager,” no pressure to get the greatest deal. It got me thinking about the number of times that the prices of my products and services have been haggled over. While by no means am I racially profiling, I couldn’t help but notice that many of these times involved people from cultures and heritages where haggling and bartering were a way of life. In the United States, we tend to haggle over the largest-ticket items (homes, cars, vacations, etc.) but we tend to blindly pay whatever the sticker price is on everything else (can you imagine hitting the local grocery store and haggling over every item that runs across the scanner? “How much for the milk? $2.29? I’ll give you a buck-fifty, no higher. Okay, go check with the manager”). Once I realized that, I’ve been able to get over my initial hackle-raising when someone wishes to haggle and instead pleasantly point out that, with this particular seamstress, you pay whatever’s on the price tag.
  1. “The Jitters” – Sometimes I get stressed. Oftentimes I feel I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, or I’m convinced I’m not good enough to make a living at this, or that I should retreat to the cold comfort of a desk job where there’s no creativity but a decent dental plan. And it’s easy to get caught up in my own little universe. That’s when I have to pull myself out of the funk whenever I encounter a jittery bride. Because no matter how much I feel overwhelmed, it has to be peanuts compared to the bride. Let’s face it: none of us are sunshine and roses when the bullets are flying. Planning a wedding is a months-long, 24/7 version of handling road rage. Just check out where a wedding falls in the top 10 life stressors; it’s worse than losing your job or facing retirement.
  1. It Ain’t Cheap – Not that I’m exactly swimming in the dough here, but there have been plenty of times in my past where I’ve been so broke that I couldn’t afford to pay attention. We’re talking dinners made up of swiped McDonald’s ketchup packets and hot water to make ersatz tomato soup; you can’t call it a shoestring budget because you can’t afford shoestrings. And I KNOW I wasn’t all sunshine and smiles during those times. Embarrassment or outright humiliation jockeyed for position with envy of those who had while I was a have-not. Now, typically a bride has dreamt of her special day for years if not decades, and when reality comes crashing into a fairy tale, our reactions can be severe. Today, the national average of a wedding is $33,931.00. Let me enunciate: THIRTY-THREE THOUSAND PLUS. And if you think there’s no way you’d ever get near that cost, play this game for kicks. What may look like a bridezilla walking through my door may instead just be a soul-crushed little girl on the inside who’s desperately trying to hold onto her fairy tale. It’s my job to help her through this by explaining my rates and why I charge them, and even to offer less expensive alternatives.

  1. Pregnancy – I won’t have to go into too much detail here. Pregnancy. Hormones. Body image. Terror of the future. Swollen ankles and stomach-turning cravings. Possibly shotguns involved.
  1. Mommie Dearest – There’s no easy way to tackle this topic, so I’ll just get right to it. Too often I’ve dealt with a bride and things have been under control, or at least controllable. But then the Mother of the Bride arrives (usually late to the appointment in a flurry of words and arm-waving), and typically that’s when things start to go off the rails. Now, to be honest, more often than not it’s the parents of the bride who foot the bill, so they have a vested interest – literally and figuratively – in every aspect of the pending nuptials. In those instances they SHOULD have a say. But I’ve had my fair share of Momzillas who take over every conceivable aspect of the wedding, blind and deaf to the wants, needs, and desires of their daughter, and we all know that poop trickles downhill, so it goes from mom to daughter to me. If you think that the direct correlation between parents paying and parents having an impact on their children is off, just ask yourself: have you heard of a GROOMzilla? In these cases where mom attempts a coup, I find it best to schedule special solo appointments with just the bride.

Well, there you go: five very actual reasons why we should take a breath or two when dealing what seems to be a bridezilla. What are YOUR thoughts? I’d love to hear them in the comments!

Until next time!

Heather

Bad Santa (or, “Santa-Zilla, slip a sable under the tree…”)

Hello! Welcome to my new blog feature, “Tales from the Singing Seamstress” – a semi-regular peek into the wacky world of seamstressing. I thought I’d start off with a little holiday story.

We’ve all heard of the concept of the “Bridezilla” – heck, there was even a TV show about this special class of “lady” that goes all Jekyll/Hyde as the impending wedding day nears. Watching that television show was like watching a train wreck; however, there was a screen separating me from the horrors unfolding before me, and if it got too bad, I had a remote in my hand and 499 other channels to choose from.

Which left me a tad unprepared for my own version of every business owner’s nightmare of the enfant terrible client – my very own Santa-Zilla.

The tale goes a bit like this:

One fateful day, I received an order from a Santa for an embroidered velvet vest and matching knickers. He wanted zip fly and a back pocket, both of which additions I seem to have gotten lost in the translation. Which meant I mailed vest and knickers to him sans zipper and pocket, which in turn meant I received a very angry and nearly incomprehensible tirade via Facebook Messenger in the evening of the day he received them. (It’s important to remember the evening part of this, trust me.)

It took a while to sift through his hammered-out words and near-foreign syntax. Once I understood what he was on about, I immediately offered to – of course – fix the pants. The next morning, I received another Facebook Message from him – a more lucid message this time – pleasantly confirming he would return the knickers for their completion.

The moment Mr. Postman dropped them back off with me, you betcha I straightaway went about making the alterations. Whistling while I worked (or was it with visions of sugar plums dancing in my head? I forget), I put a patch pocket on the back and added a zipper closure in the front. Straining my own arm from patting myself on the back for my ability to placate a client, I shipped the pants back to my once-and-future Santa.

Imagine my surprice when, after he received them, I got “torn a new one” with yet another incomprehensible evening tirade. Apparently, upon reflection, he wanted a non-patch pocket; additionally, the zipper was supposedly puckering.

Le sigh.

Thus continued the messaged back-and-forth, whereupon your Singing Seamstress sweetly offered to emergency-create another pair of pants catered to his new specifications and overnight them to him. The back-and-forth continued, until it finally dawned on me that I was conversing with someone who was drunk off his Santa ass. Apparently, my client started each and every evening off with a stiff drink or twelve, which explained the tenor of my evening messages from him and the contrary daytime moods.

Well, gentle readers, the Singing Seamstress did her best with what she had. Unfortunately for me, the velvets of his original vest and new knickers didn’t match – as they say, “Close, but no cigar.” (Side note: did you know that phrase comes from old carnival days where winning one of the games would win you a cigar, and not quite making it meant you went away empty-handed. Anyway, back to the story.)

To retaliate, my own personal Bad Santa tore the waistband and the pockets, claimed it was my handiwork, and demanded his money back. How do I know that he tore them? I made him send me back the pants. As you can surmise, my check to him was most definitely NOT in the mail.

Now, here’s the punchline: two weeks later, I get a lucid daytime message from him; quite soberly (literally and figuratively), he wanted me to make him some shirts.

So, I did what any self-respecting business owner would do: I squared my shoulders, girded my loins (I don’t even know what that means, but I did it), proudly proclaimed that the customer is always right, and created for him a dozen awesome shirts and didn’t even charge him.

Not really.

After getting over my shock, I politely, professionally and firmly fired his drunk ass as a client.

It’s not nice to mess with MRS. Claus, you see…

Until next time!

Heather