Most of my larger pieces are glorified necklaces. They sit on the shoulders and drape over the chest, designed to adorn any simple shirt, from a velvet top to a cotton t-shirt. It's for this reason that they seem to be so popular.
While some advise me to use much nicer shirts on my mannequins than the t-shirts I have, it is because of the simplicity that I use them. For a long time my female mannequins, my womannequins, had stunning velvet or silk shirts on them, but some people would pass them by claiming that they didn't own such nice shirts. Once I began using the cotton t's, many more people began looking at them seriously. Go figure.
One day, at a winter craft show, a lady came by and just fell in love with one of the tops. This one was simple chain-mail with a curb chain adornment, designed to cap the shoulders and flow across the chest. And this woman had ample of that to flow across.
She was not a small woman.
I mean, she wasn't what I would call fat. She was just very large. If memory serves, she was nearly 6-feet tall, very large boned, and Rubens would have found her a tad on the lean side to paint.
She fell in love with this piece and asked ever so nicely if she could please try it on. Of course she could. No problem.
But then there was.
She wanted to buy it, and I reflexively said that I wouldn't sell it to her. Her face fell, almost in disbelief.
"I'm sorry", I stammered, "I mean, I will, but this one is just too small for you. It almost looks like a toy. I want to make another one for you, to fit. I feel like it needs about another 6 inches on the draping."
She was a bit dubious, but could see what I meant.
"How much more", she asked cautiously.
I quoted a nominal extra amount to cover material costs, and she immediately recognized that this extra amount would not really cover my time all that well. To be fair, though, I guessed it would take an extra hour, maybe, and that was worth it to me to ensure it looked good on her.
In the end, she ordered it, measurements were made, the piece was finished and sent off, as she lived a number of hours away by car.
And then summer came. She must have remembered that I was at Bastion Square in the summer, for she came by my booth, all sheepish. She really loved the piece, she said, but she just couldn't wear it.
Without a moments thought, I told her that I would either properly fit it to her, or refund her 100%.
This stunned her, for she hadn't encountered an artist that would custom make a piece and then offer to buy it back at full price. What can I say? That's how I do business.
She was super happy, and was about to hand it back to me when I asked her to put it on. I mean, I'm fairly confident about my work, and think that I sometimes know what I'm doing. I wanted to see where I went wrong, learn from it.
So she put it on.
And I bit back my smile. Well, I tried to bite back my smile. It kind of crept up on me.
"See? It just doesn't fit the same," she said. "I so love it, but it just doesn't feel right to me. Do you think you can adjust it? Or should I just get my money back?"
"I think I can take care of it."
"How long will it take?"
"Hmmm. I'm not sure. Let's see."
And I rotated it 90 degrees, so that shoulder caps were sitting on her shoulders instead of in the front and back.
Saturday, May 9, 2015
Monday, May 4, 2015
Trends
I just don't get it.
Every year I expect the beginning of the season to be slow, and to be fair, the first day or two usually is, but without fail May and September are my highest sales. I've checked.
On Thursday, the first day of the season, which happened to also be the last day of April this year, so maybe it doesn't count, was a good day for me. Friday? Even better. While my neighbours were struggling to reach the single digits in sales, and one was happy because she reached the double digits, I was well and truly ensconced in figures much higher than that.
In fact, and here's the weirdness, I tend to do best when it is cold and windy here in beautiful downtown Victoria. Again, I've checked.
There must be some strange mental aberration that gets people to say, "Oh gosh golly gee whillickers, it's really cold and windy out here in beautiful downtown Victoria. I should strap slabs of metal all over my body."
These people are nuts.
Aside - Yesterday, as I was getting ready for the day, I noticed my change purse was really heavy. I went upstairs and dumped all the change on the bed. "Quarters? I don't deal with quarters." So I put them all in the piggy bank. "Loonies? I deal with loonies." "You sure do", said my loving wife. (Loonies are the Canadian dollar coin.) (Isn't it cool that our currency is called the loonie? Of course, that explains why it's not worth all that much in the international market.)
I love them, but they're nuts.
So, let's take a moment and look at trends.
First, I mentioned that thing about the weather, right? Well, you see, for quite some time I kept track of the weather in my sales book, just because I was curious. Sure enough, there was this weird weather trend. Cold and windy? Sales spike. Hot and sunny? Sales spike, which made sense if I kept my stuff in the shade. Cool metal on a hot body. Sure. I get it. Still doesn't explain the cold and windy thing.
Anyways. I tracked it for a while until I began to see the trend.
Then I decided to track something else. I had noticed that my sales figures were all over the place. Some days people were like, "Oh my God! Chain-mail!!!!", and other days people would whisper as they walked past, "Oh my God, chain-mail", as if they were commenting on something better left unmentioned and avoided on the sidewalk.
Why?
Aside - Have you ever noticed, fellow mailers out there, that many people tend to say the words "Oh look, chain-mail" when they go past your booth? They never seem to say, "Oh look, t-shirts" when they pass my neighbour's booth. I've never heard anyone say, "Oh look, nature photos", or "Oh look, pottery".Just something I've noticed.
Back to my original thoughts.
I was wondering about the varied sales numbers, so I decided to see what was different about each day. In a word, cruise ships. Ok. That's two words. But they should be one. Cruiseships.
I mentioned that I live in Victoria, BC, Canada. And here in beautiful downtown Victoria (I mentioned it's beautiful, right?) we get lots of cruise ships.
Well, we don't actually get the cruise ships downtown, although it would be amusing to watch them try to navigate the streets. They go in to Ogden Point, regurgitate their slew of passengers, many of whom head straight to Bastion Square to buy my work, or at least sneer at it.
So why the difference in days?
I was curious, so I started recording which ships came in on which days.
I went through the cruise ship schedule, yes they have it here in tourist town, and put it all in a spreadsheet. I eliminated those that came in on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, since I don't sell on those days, and got rid of those that arrived after 4 pm. That was when I noticed my trend.
Princess Cruise Lines and Royal Caribbean Cruises are like the Walmart shoppers of the tourist trade. They love the chintzy kitsch, t-shirts, "wish you were here" postcards and all.
Norwegian Cruise Lines? They're like the Viking warriors of tourism. Raiding, pillaging, looting, and spending it all on good quality armour, or at least fine armour-like jewelry and fashion designs.
Now, on the days with the Caribbean Princesses, I set up my booth a bit differently. The pink and blue scale butterflies migrate forward, along with the purply and pastel bracelets. The bronze and steel slide into the background. Flowers and cutsey fluffy rabbit-like things suddenly appear, while the big horking shirts fill up the dark corners of scary-dom.
And the next day, when the Vikings invade, all the stops come out. The heavy metal booms forward, the bunnies go scurrying for their lives, the growls and the screams resound, and the flowers are nothing more than a distant pastel nightmare.
And thus hath my sales book leveled out.
There are other trends that seem to occur, but most of them are illusory. You will often hear people say "Purple is the in colour this year" or orange is, or lilac, or fuchsia. Poppycock. That whole colour of the year trend is a joke. While it may have been true fifty years ago, when there were only a handful of magazines controlling the fashion industry, that is certainly not the case today. We live in an age where people can find what they love any time at all. They can follow their own tastes in style rather than some narrow-minded editor locked up in a dark office in New York City who picks a random colour out of a hat. That whole fashion sheep thing is a by-gone memory, in my opinion.
So, no trends there.
Again, I checked.
How, you ask? I'm glad you did, dear Reader.
You see, it only took me 26 years, but I finally realized a few years back that I could sort my bracelets by colour rather than weave. I know, I know. I'm such a guy. All the women readers are sitting there going "Duh, of course." And all the guys are going "Wow. That's brilliant."
Now I have one row of display space for each colour scheme of bracelets. I have little baggies of overstock for each colour. As the baggies empty, I make more in that particular colour. No spreadsheets. No fancy schmacy programming things. I just look at the bags nd think, "That's looking a bit low today."
And you know what? Every year I consistently sell the same ratio of colours, like four times as much purple as orange. Red and yellow? About the same of each. Black? Tons. Blue? Tons. Green? Well, maybe half a ton. Last year, when purple was supposed to be the "in" colour? No change in my sales of it. I checked. I looked at my orders to see how many bags of purple rings I ordered.
Trends.
They're interesting things. And they're worth looking into. You never know what fascinating things you'll discover.
Like my Vikings and Princesses.
Or that cold and windy thing that happens.
I still think they're nuts.
Every year I expect the beginning of the season to be slow, and to be fair, the first day or two usually is, but without fail May and September are my highest sales. I've checked.
On Thursday, the first day of the season, which happened to also be the last day of April this year, so maybe it doesn't count, was a good day for me. Friday? Even better. While my neighbours were struggling to reach the single digits in sales, and one was happy because she reached the double digits, I was well and truly ensconced in figures much higher than that.
In fact, and here's the weirdness, I tend to do best when it is cold and windy here in beautiful downtown Victoria. Again, I've checked.
There must be some strange mental aberration that gets people to say, "Oh gosh golly gee whillickers, it's really cold and windy out here in beautiful downtown Victoria. I should strap slabs of metal all over my body."
These people are nuts.
Aside - Yesterday, as I was getting ready for the day, I noticed my change purse was really heavy. I went upstairs and dumped all the change on the bed. "Quarters? I don't deal with quarters." So I put them all in the piggy bank. "Loonies? I deal with loonies." "You sure do", said my loving wife. (Loonies are the Canadian dollar coin.) (Isn't it cool that our currency is called the loonie? Of course, that explains why it's not worth all that much in the international market.)
I love them, but they're nuts.
So, let's take a moment and look at trends.
First, I mentioned that thing about the weather, right? Well, you see, for quite some time I kept track of the weather in my sales book, just because I was curious. Sure enough, there was this weird weather trend. Cold and windy? Sales spike. Hot and sunny? Sales spike, which made sense if I kept my stuff in the shade. Cool metal on a hot body. Sure. I get it. Still doesn't explain the cold and windy thing.
Anyways. I tracked it for a while until I began to see the trend.
Then I decided to track something else. I had noticed that my sales figures were all over the place. Some days people were like, "Oh my God! Chain-mail!!!!", and other days people would whisper as they walked past, "Oh my God, chain-mail", as if they were commenting on something better left unmentioned and avoided on the sidewalk.
Why?
Aside - Have you ever noticed, fellow mailers out there, that many people tend to say the words "Oh look, chain-mail" when they go past your booth? They never seem to say, "Oh look, t-shirts" when they pass my neighbour's booth. I've never heard anyone say, "Oh look, nature photos", or "Oh look, pottery".Just something I've noticed.
Back to my original thoughts.
I was wondering about the varied sales numbers, so I decided to see what was different about each day. In a word, cruise ships. Ok. That's two words. But they should be one. Cruiseships.
I mentioned that I live in Victoria, BC, Canada. And here in beautiful downtown Victoria (I mentioned it's beautiful, right?) we get lots of cruise ships.
Well, we don't actually get the cruise ships downtown, although it would be amusing to watch them try to navigate the streets. They go in to Ogden Point, regurgitate their slew of passengers, many of whom head straight to Bastion Square to buy my work, or at least sneer at it.
So why the difference in days?
I was curious, so I started recording which ships came in on which days.
I went through the cruise ship schedule, yes they have it here in tourist town, and put it all in a spreadsheet. I eliminated those that came in on Monday, Tuesday or Wednesday, since I don't sell on those days, and got rid of those that arrived after 4 pm. That was when I noticed my trend.
Princess Cruise Lines and Royal Caribbean Cruises are like the Walmart shoppers of the tourist trade. They love the chintzy kitsch, t-shirts, "wish you were here" postcards and all.
Norwegian Cruise Lines? They're like the Viking warriors of tourism. Raiding, pillaging, looting, and spending it all on good quality armour, or at least fine armour-like jewelry and fashion designs.
Now, on the days with the Caribbean Princesses, I set up my booth a bit differently. The pink and blue scale butterflies migrate forward, along with the purply and pastel bracelets. The bronze and steel slide into the background. Flowers and cutsey fluffy rabbit-like things suddenly appear, while the big horking shirts fill up the dark corners of scary-dom.
And the next day, when the Vikings invade, all the stops come out. The heavy metal booms forward, the bunnies go scurrying for their lives, the growls and the screams resound, and the flowers are nothing more than a distant pastel nightmare.
And thus hath my sales book leveled out.
There are other trends that seem to occur, but most of them are illusory. You will often hear people say "Purple is the in colour this year" or orange is, or lilac, or fuchsia. Poppycock. That whole colour of the year trend is a joke. While it may have been true fifty years ago, when there were only a handful of magazines controlling the fashion industry, that is certainly not the case today. We live in an age where people can find what they love any time at all. They can follow their own tastes in style rather than some narrow-minded editor locked up in a dark office in New York City who picks a random colour out of a hat. That whole fashion sheep thing is a by-gone memory, in my opinion.
So, no trends there.
Again, I checked.
How, you ask? I'm glad you did, dear Reader.
You see, it only took me 26 years, but I finally realized a few years back that I could sort my bracelets by colour rather than weave. I know, I know. I'm such a guy. All the women readers are sitting there going "Duh, of course." And all the guys are going "Wow. That's brilliant."
Now I have one row of display space for each colour scheme of bracelets. I have little baggies of overstock for each colour. As the baggies empty, I make more in that particular colour. No spreadsheets. No fancy schmacy programming things. I just look at the bags nd think, "That's looking a bit low today."
And you know what? Every year I consistently sell the same ratio of colours, like four times as much purple as orange. Red and yellow? About the same of each. Black? Tons. Blue? Tons. Green? Well, maybe half a ton. Last year, when purple was supposed to be the "in" colour? No change in my sales of it. I checked. I looked at my orders to see how many bags of purple rings I ordered.
Trends.
They're interesting things. And they're worth looking into. You never know what fascinating things you'll discover.
Like my Vikings and Princesses.
Or that cold and windy thing that happens.
I still think they're nuts.
Saturday, May 2, 2015
If at First You Don't Succeed...
Yesterday.
Day 2.
Bastion Square.
The beginning of the season is always slow. Very slow. Terribly slow.
At the end of Day 1 I was really happy, for I greatly exceeded sales expectations, which wasn't all that difficult. My expectations were low. Very low. Terribly low. I could have given away a bracelet and exceeded expectations.
My hopes for yesterday weren't much better.
But then this couple came up to the booth, well tanned, older but not elderly, and obviously still very much in love with each other. I loved talking with them. They were fresh off the tour boat, and live in Arizona. After talking geography for a bit, I learned that his daughter lives in the town in which I grew up, over 3600 km away. That was a nice little connection.
Now, let me back up a moment. In recent weeks the issue of materialism has been rearing its ugly head over and over. You only need to read my article on the business of business to understand that. And with market season beginning, the importance of people over profits is something I have to deal with even more. Just the other day I saw a video in which another artist is "coaching" artists on how to sell their work. She actually says "Don't compliment people on their jewelry." Don't compliment people? She acts as if the sale is the most important thing of all, forgetting that community and people are far more important. We're not Walmart, Shell Oil, IBM, or any other corporado. We don't have to believe the lie that growing the economy is the most important thing. We can understand that people come first. We can act on it. We can make a difference, when we recognize that people come first.
Have I mentioned that? It really is important. Here. Let me say it again.
People come first.
Anyways, back to yesterday.
Mr and Mrs Arizona came by, and we had a delightful little chat.
They were also fascinated with my work.
Of course, they'd seen chain-mail before, but "never anything like this". They would pick up a bracelet, examine the structure and weave, and he would place it on her wrist. She would smile and praise the piece, but I could see in the ever-so-slight wrinkling around the very corners of her eyes that this was not a piece she would wear.
She liked the colour, the weave and everything about it, but it would just sit in a drawer.
"How about this one", he asked, putting a $15 item on her.
"Well...", she began.
"It's not really your style", I offered, relieving her of the conflict of wanting to say 'no', but not risk offending either him or me.
"So how about this one", he said, trying on a $30 bracelet.
"It's nice...", she began.
"But you wouldn't wear it," I said, as I smiled at her, "would you?"
"No, not really. I mean I love it, but I just can't see myself wearing it." She looked as if she wanted to apologize for that, but I assured her that it was ok. I understood. I didn't want to sell a piece that would just sit around. People have their preferences, and that's great.
I told them that I was very happy just having met them, that I wasn't worried about selling anything. I'd make a living this year, I knew that. I trusted it. They shouldn't feel any pressure.
This goes back to that materialism thing, again. People are more important. I often praise their jewelry, or something else that is praiseworthy about them. I try to get to know them a bit, and if I feel that another vendor may have something that they would love, I let them know. "Oh, you seem to like this style of work. Be sure to check out my friend over there." It all works out, and makes them feel that they are more than just a walking wallet.
I made sure she knew that she didn't have to buy anything she wasn't going to wear.
But he really loved her, and this was how he expressed his love. He enjoyed buying her little gifts. I understood that and honoured it, too.
Over and over he offered her various bracelets, rich purples, ruby reds, emerald greens, sapphire blues, all the bright tones. Over and over again she smiled in loving appreciation, and declined each and every offer.
Then it hit me.
I reached over to a pile of stuff I hadn't sorted out yet and got out a necklace made by my friend Francois. It was a simple necklace made in a random assortment of gemstone colours.
"Here", I said, offering it to the man. I realized that he had only been showing her bracelets. I said that I could cut it down to a bracelet, if he wanted, assuring him that I just make lengths and sell them as whatever.
But I knew her. I had watched her reactions. It wasn't the chain-mail she wouldn't wear. It was the bracelets. She had enough bracelets at home already.
And the corners of her eyes lit up.
He saw it, too.
He had found her piece.
He also found a piece that he could buy from me, which was his way of expressing thanks. I knew that was important to him, too, and I acknowledged it.
In some ways, he reminded me of my own Father. That was how he would say "thank you", too.
After they left, I found myself admiring this guy and thinking of him often throughout the rest of the day. Come to think of it, I find myself thinking of him today, too. I admire his tenacity, his determination in finding a way to say "I love you" to his wife, and "thanks" to me. I mean, I was satisfied with just having met them, but watching this made it more special to me. I just know that they're going to talk about it, too.
Oh, and the cost was far more than that initial bracelet, which I could have talked them into, had I wanted the quick sale. But really, I was far more interested in their happiness. The fact that I ended up with a larger sale is incidental.
Actually, the fact that it was one of Francois' pieces makes it even more special to me. Good job, Francois.
And thanks, Dad, I love you, too.
Day 2.
Bastion Square.
The beginning of the season is always slow. Very slow. Terribly slow.
At the end of Day 1 I was really happy, for I greatly exceeded sales expectations, which wasn't all that difficult. My expectations were low. Very low. Terribly low. I could have given away a bracelet and exceeded expectations.
My hopes for yesterday weren't much better.
But then this couple came up to the booth, well tanned, older but not elderly, and obviously still very much in love with each other. I loved talking with them. They were fresh off the tour boat, and live in Arizona. After talking geography for a bit, I learned that his daughter lives in the town in which I grew up, over 3600 km away. That was a nice little connection.
Now, let me back up a moment. In recent weeks the issue of materialism has been rearing its ugly head over and over. You only need to read my article on the business of business to understand that. And with market season beginning, the importance of people over profits is something I have to deal with even more. Just the other day I saw a video in which another artist is "coaching" artists on how to sell their work. She actually says "Don't compliment people on their jewelry." Don't compliment people? She acts as if the sale is the most important thing of all, forgetting that community and people are far more important. We're not Walmart, Shell Oil, IBM, or any other corporado. We don't have to believe the lie that growing the economy is the most important thing. We can understand that people come first. We can act on it. We can make a difference, when we recognize that people come first.
Have I mentioned that? It really is important. Here. Let me say it again.
People come first.
Anyways, back to yesterday.
Mr and Mrs Arizona came by, and we had a delightful little chat.
They were also fascinated with my work.
Of course, they'd seen chain-mail before, but "never anything like this". They would pick up a bracelet, examine the structure and weave, and he would place it on her wrist. She would smile and praise the piece, but I could see in the ever-so-slight wrinkling around the very corners of her eyes that this was not a piece she would wear.
She liked the colour, the weave and everything about it, but it would just sit in a drawer.
"How about this one", he asked, putting a $15 item on her.
"Well...", she began.
"It's not really your style", I offered, relieving her of the conflict of wanting to say 'no', but not risk offending either him or me.
"So how about this one", he said, trying on a $30 bracelet.
"It's nice...", she began.
"But you wouldn't wear it," I said, as I smiled at her, "would you?"
"No, not really. I mean I love it, but I just can't see myself wearing it." She looked as if she wanted to apologize for that, but I assured her that it was ok. I understood. I didn't want to sell a piece that would just sit around. People have their preferences, and that's great.
I told them that I was very happy just having met them, that I wasn't worried about selling anything. I'd make a living this year, I knew that. I trusted it. They shouldn't feel any pressure.
This goes back to that materialism thing, again. People are more important. I often praise their jewelry, or something else that is praiseworthy about them. I try to get to know them a bit, and if I feel that another vendor may have something that they would love, I let them know. "Oh, you seem to like this style of work. Be sure to check out my friend over there." It all works out, and makes them feel that they are more than just a walking wallet.
I made sure she knew that she didn't have to buy anything she wasn't going to wear.
But he really loved her, and this was how he expressed his love. He enjoyed buying her little gifts. I understood that and honoured it, too.
Over and over he offered her various bracelets, rich purples, ruby reds, emerald greens, sapphire blues, all the bright tones. Over and over again she smiled in loving appreciation, and declined each and every offer.
Then it hit me.
I reached over to a pile of stuff I hadn't sorted out yet and got out a necklace made by my friend Francois. It was a simple necklace made in a random assortment of gemstone colours.
"Here", I said, offering it to the man. I realized that he had only been showing her bracelets. I said that I could cut it down to a bracelet, if he wanted, assuring him that I just make lengths and sell them as whatever.
But I knew her. I had watched her reactions. It wasn't the chain-mail she wouldn't wear. It was the bracelets. She had enough bracelets at home already.
And the corners of her eyes lit up.
He saw it, too.
He had found her piece.
He also found a piece that he could buy from me, which was his way of expressing thanks. I knew that was important to him, too, and I acknowledged it.
In some ways, he reminded me of my own Father. That was how he would say "thank you", too.
After they left, I found myself admiring this guy and thinking of him often throughout the rest of the day. Come to think of it, I find myself thinking of him today, too. I admire his tenacity, his determination in finding a way to say "I love you" to his wife, and "thanks" to me. I mean, I was satisfied with just having met them, but watching this made it more special to me. I just know that they're going to talk about it, too.
Oh, and the cost was far more than that initial bracelet, which I could have talked them into, had I wanted the quick sale. But really, I was far more interested in their happiness. The fact that I ended up with a larger sale is incidental.
Actually, the fact that it was one of Francois' pieces makes it even more special to me. Good job, Francois.
And thanks, Dad, I love you, too.
Friday, May 1, 2015
The Secret of Gift-Giving
A couple of years ago I was selling my work at a Christmas sale. It was fairly typical, in that much of the work was fairly crafty type stuff, with the odd higher end item here and there. Most of the people attending were in the "elderly" category, to put it kindly. But every now and then a family would show up, with the various teens and youth in tow.
The most enjoyable part of this show, aside from the volunteers organizers, were the folks looking for gifts for their grandkids. They would come up to my booth, stop, and then come out with the most wonderful exclamations that I hadn't heard for many a long year. "Bless my soul." "As I live and breathe." "By gum, I haven't seen chain-mail since Heck was a pup.'
But out of the entire weekend, there was one family that stood out, far and above the rest. It was your typical family with a mom, dad and young teenage son, trying to make the best of the day and seeming to have a hard time doing so. The son, in particular, seemed to be quietly and politely going out of his mind, eagerly counting down the nanoseconds until he could escape this private little jingly hell, even though he obviously loved the time spent with his folks.
Then he saw my booth, and stood transfixed as his parents continued on to the popcorn booth next door.
Chain-mail.
It was like a little nerdy oasis amidst a desert of kitsch.
He must have taken a good 20 minutes to walk from one end of my table to the other, which, if you calculate it, comes out to a zipping .00454545 miles per hour. And he must have been so out of breath walking at such a pace for he was unable to say a single word during this entire episodic trek.
Then he left.
A few minutes later, he came back with his folks in tow.
And the whole escapade was repeated again for my viewing pleasure, but this time in triplicate.
20 minutes. All three of them. In silence.
It must have been genetic.
Now, if that wasn't enough, when they reached the end of their journey, they turned around and did it again, for old time's sake, I guess.
Occasionally, to break the monotony, they would point out one piece or another. All in silence.
And then they left.
Now, during this time, I did say hi to them. I did offer assistance. I said the obligatory greetings, and offered what help I could, but none of it seemed to get through. I began to suspect that they might have been from lower Estonia, and fluent only in Akurio. But that was just a guess. Wrong, as it turned out.
For about half an hour later the mother came running back.
"Can you hide this bracelet", she said, picking one up. "I want to get it for my son, but don't want to risk him seeing it."
I hid it behind a display while she moved to another booth to get out her money. I packed it up, and passed it on to her as she flew by, not looking in my direction, swapping the money for the bag as if she had been trained by the KGB during the Cold War.
I could only smile in appreciation for her successful venture in getting her son a gift without him noticing.
But then, about two minutes later, the son came by. He grabbed a steel bracelet and said, "Can you wrap this for my dad? I'll be back in a minute to pay for it." And like his mom, he surreptitiously went off, swinging back to make that same monetary swap.
This time I was able to get a quick "thank you" in.
I could only laugh, and smile, at the thought of the two of them successfully making their purchases without the others knowing.
But then, two hours later, genetics won out again. The father came by. He looked relieved, and said, "I thought I'd never get away from them. Is there any chance you could wrap this bracelet for my wife? I think it's the only thing she actually liked in this whole show. And she really loved it."
To be honest, I couldn't read what any of them liked as they snailed their way past, but I trusted that they knew each other far better than I did.
So in the end, all three of them had picked up a gift for one of the other three from my booth.
Oh, how I would have loved to have been there on Christmas morning when they each opened their presents.
The most enjoyable part of this show, aside from the volunteers organizers, were the folks looking for gifts for their grandkids. They would come up to my booth, stop, and then come out with the most wonderful exclamations that I hadn't heard for many a long year. "Bless my soul." "As I live and breathe." "By gum, I haven't seen chain-mail since Heck was a pup.'
But out of the entire weekend, there was one family that stood out, far and above the rest. It was your typical family with a mom, dad and young teenage son, trying to make the best of the day and seeming to have a hard time doing so. The son, in particular, seemed to be quietly and politely going out of his mind, eagerly counting down the nanoseconds until he could escape this private little jingly hell, even though he obviously loved the time spent with his folks.
Then he saw my booth, and stood transfixed as his parents continued on to the popcorn booth next door.
Chain-mail.
It was like a little nerdy oasis amidst a desert of kitsch.
He must have taken a good 20 minutes to walk from one end of my table to the other, which, if you calculate it, comes out to a zipping .00454545 miles per hour. And he must have been so out of breath walking at such a pace for he was unable to say a single word during this entire episodic trek.
Then he left.
A few minutes later, he came back with his folks in tow.
And the whole escapade was repeated again for my viewing pleasure, but this time in triplicate.
20 minutes. All three of them. In silence.
It must have been genetic.
Now, if that wasn't enough, when they reached the end of their journey, they turned around and did it again, for old time's sake, I guess.
Occasionally, to break the monotony, they would point out one piece or another. All in silence.
And then they left.
Now, during this time, I did say hi to them. I did offer assistance. I said the obligatory greetings, and offered what help I could, but none of it seemed to get through. I began to suspect that they might have been from lower Estonia, and fluent only in Akurio. But that was just a guess. Wrong, as it turned out.
For about half an hour later the mother came running back.
"Can you hide this bracelet", she said, picking one up. "I want to get it for my son, but don't want to risk him seeing it."
I hid it behind a display while she moved to another booth to get out her money. I packed it up, and passed it on to her as she flew by, not looking in my direction, swapping the money for the bag as if she had been trained by the KGB during the Cold War.
I could only smile in appreciation for her successful venture in getting her son a gift without him noticing.
But then, about two minutes later, the son came by. He grabbed a steel bracelet and said, "Can you wrap this for my dad? I'll be back in a minute to pay for it." And like his mom, he surreptitiously went off, swinging back to make that same monetary swap.
This time I was able to get a quick "thank you" in.
I could only laugh, and smile, at the thought of the two of them successfully making their purchases without the others knowing.
But then, two hours later, genetics won out again. The father came by. He looked relieved, and said, "I thought I'd never get away from them. Is there any chance you could wrap this bracelet for my wife? I think it's the only thing she actually liked in this whole show. And she really loved it."
To be honest, I couldn't read what any of them liked as they snailed their way past, but I trusted that they knew each other far better than I did.
So in the end, all three of them had picked up a gift for one of the other three from my booth.
Oh, how I would have loved to have been there on Christmas morning when they each opened their presents.
Friday, April 17, 2015
Times of Change
She handed me a $20 bill for a $15 bracelet, 1/2 Persian red and silver weave.
Now that's normally not a problem, for I just give back a single $5 bill and we call it even. Right?
This particular day, as most particular days, I was selling my work at the Bastion Square Market. That's in Victoria, in case you're not familiar with it. And Victoria, that's in British Columbia. As in Canada.
And this $20 was green.
Well, even that's not saying much, since most $20 bills here are green. But this one was a darker green. As in US-currency-green. As in not-Canadian.
Now that's fine. I've got no problem with that. Most of us here in the frozen north accept US currency, and last year it was actually close to par. So she handed me $20 and I gave her back $5 with nary a twinge of guilt. No problem, right?
Well, let's just say that things went contrary to my expectations.
With a disgusted sneer on her face, she looked at this blue plasticy-paper thing in her hand and said, "What is this?" I could have put a worm in her hand and received about the same expression. Probably from both of them at the same time.
"That's your change", I said, with a calm coolness that was rapidly evaporating.
"But what is this?"
I carefully explained that the bracelet was only $15, and since she gave me $20, I owed her $5.
Again, she asked what it was, since it was clearly not a bill that looked familiar to her.
"Well," I said, as carefully as I would if I were explaining a difficult concept to a child, "we're in Canada. That is a Canadian five dollar bill. Your change."
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
I carefully edited my first response before I said anything, for I do try to be a gentleman.
"You can spend it like any other money", I tried.
"But I don't want this funny money. I want an American five."
"I'm sorry", I replied, trying to bolster up some sympathy in my voice, and likely failing, "but I don't have one. And besides, it's illegal for me to give change in anything besides Canadian currency."
"But I don't want this. I want a real five."
That was when I managed to smile again.
"All right, look", I offered. "Here. Let me show you something."
I handed her back her twenty, and took the bracelet and the five back in my own hand. And then I carefully outlined my idea to her.
"We are not in the United States. We are in Canada. This is another country, and your currency is not considered valid, legal tender here. I only accepted it out of courtesy. Now, if you want to buy this bracelet, please pay me $15 in real Canadian currency. I will not accept your funny money here. I will only take legal tender."
I'm not sure, but I don't think I have ever been so glad to lose a sale.
Well, except for maybe that lawyer guy. But that's another story.
Now that's normally not a problem, for I just give back a single $5 bill and we call it even. Right?
This particular day, as most particular days, I was selling my work at the Bastion Square Market. That's in Victoria, in case you're not familiar with it. And Victoria, that's in British Columbia. As in Canada.
And this $20 was green.
Well, even that's not saying much, since most $20 bills here are green. But this one was a darker green. As in US-currency-green. As in not-Canadian.
Now that's fine. I've got no problem with that. Most of us here in the frozen north accept US currency, and last year it was actually close to par. So she handed me $20 and I gave her back $5 with nary a twinge of guilt. No problem, right?
Well, let's just say that things went contrary to my expectations.
With a disgusted sneer on her face, she looked at this blue plasticy-paper thing in her hand and said, "What is this?" I could have put a worm in her hand and received about the same expression. Probably from both of them at the same time.
"That's your change", I said, with a calm coolness that was rapidly evaporating.
"But what is this?"
I carefully explained that the bracelet was only $15, and since she gave me $20, I owed her $5.
Again, she asked what it was, since it was clearly not a bill that looked familiar to her.
"Well," I said, as carefully as I would if I were explaining a difficult concept to a child, "we're in Canada. That is a Canadian five dollar bill. Your change."
"What am I supposed to do with this?"
I carefully edited my first response before I said anything, for I do try to be a gentleman.
"You can spend it like any other money", I tried.
"But I don't want this funny money. I want an American five."
"I'm sorry", I replied, trying to bolster up some sympathy in my voice, and likely failing, "but I don't have one. And besides, it's illegal for me to give change in anything besides Canadian currency."
"But I don't want this. I want a real five."
That was when I managed to smile again.
"All right, look", I offered. "Here. Let me show you something."
I handed her back her twenty, and took the bracelet and the five back in my own hand. And then I carefully outlined my idea to her.
"We are not in the United States. We are in Canada. This is another country, and your currency is not considered valid, legal tender here. I only accepted it out of courtesy. Now, if you want to buy this bracelet, please pay me $15 in real Canadian currency. I will not accept your funny money here. I will only take legal tender."
I'm not sure, but I don't think I have ever been so glad to lose a sale.
Well, except for maybe that lawyer guy. But that's another story.
Saturday, April 11, 2015
The Business of Business
When I wrote that story about the little girl and the scale butterfly yesterday, I had a number of comments, most of which were of the "you made me cry" variety, or something about how nice it was that I did that. One comment, though, really stood out for me. He said that it helped "all of us to be not just good business people, but better people."
That, of course, got me thinking about the implications of such a statement, nice as it was.
There are many strange beliefs about business, ethics, and people that I question on a regular basis.
Once we begin to raise these questions, we will find that our very attitude towards business begins to change.
To start, we need to look at materialism, and how its influence has pervaded our entire civilization. We often read in various spiritual and philosophical writings a condemnation of the materialistic attitude. But what is that attitude? Materialism means that we place an undue emphasis on material objects, and have a disinterest in spiritual, intellectual or cultural values.
A healthier attitude does not mean that we ignore the material side of existence, nor that we live an ascetic lifestyle. Instead, it means that we live a more balanced life, with our family and friends, people in general, as a higher priority than objects. It means understanding the very source of our happiness, discovering what makes us noble in character, and striving every day to become better and better people.
Once we understand what leads to our upliftment, as opposed to what abases us, then we can better see how every aspect of our life can be bent towards helping us achieve our goals in life. After all, nobody wants to be a worse person.
With business, we will no longer see it merely as a means of acquiring a little bit of money, but instead value it for the opportunities it offers us to interact with others.
Yes, we have to eat. I won't deny that. Paying the rent is a good thing, too. But are those the overall objectives of our life here on Earth? Are truly here merely to get a few more pieces of dust to clutter up the bookshelves of our lives? How many people have you ever heard, on their deathbed, wishing they had spent just a little more time in the office?
It sounds absurd to put it that way, but this is how many of us live our life.
Many years ago I made the very conscious decision to not do that.
When it came to choosing between advancing my career or spending five years as a stay-at-home dad to help raise my son, the choice was clear. I stayed at home. Well, rather I went out with him, picking a different virtue each week on which to focus. We would go to the conservatory and talk about how we could show this virtue to plants, or how they showed it to us. We explored those same questions at the zoo with the animals, and at the children's museum with kids. For the first five years of his life, this is what we did together.
I made almost no chain-mail during that time.
Do I regret it? Are you kidding me? I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
My wife and I made the mutual decision to cut out all those things that sucked up our money, such as cable tv and a cell phone, and live off her salary, which was far higher than mine. All our lives are far richer because of that decision.
At my booth in the summer, where I sell my work and make most of my money for the year, I have an unusual policy. If someone comes up to my table and obviously feels like they have to buy something to be a good person, that purchasing some material item somehow validates their existence, I will talk them out of buying anything. Instead, I spend time with them, asking questions and truly listening to their answers. I get to know them, praise them and encourage them. And if someone else comes up needing assistance, I ask them to wait while I finish with this very important person. And then I try to give the new person the same degree of attention, just to make sure they don't feel hurt.
People come first.
Over the years I have lost many sales because of this attitude, but I have gained something far more valuable: friends. And these friends have also, incidentally, become my greatest client base. They have demonstrated true "customer loyalty", returning year after year, bringing their friends with them.
True wealth lies not in what you own, but in who you are.
In the end, if you want to be a better business person, then you have to become a better person first.
That, of course, got me thinking about the implications of such a statement, nice as it was.
There are many strange beliefs about business, ethics, and people that I question on a regular basis.
- Why do we accept that the desire for greater and greater profit should be the fundamental operating principle of business?
- Why have so many people placed economic activity at the very centre of human existence?
- Why do we presume success is synonymous with economic wealth?
- But most of all, where do we come off defining a human being as a consumer of goods and services?
Once we begin to raise these questions, we will find that our very attitude towards business begins to change.
To start, we need to look at materialism, and how its influence has pervaded our entire civilization. We often read in various spiritual and philosophical writings a condemnation of the materialistic attitude. But what is that attitude? Materialism means that we place an undue emphasis on material objects, and have a disinterest in spiritual, intellectual or cultural values.
A healthier attitude does not mean that we ignore the material side of existence, nor that we live an ascetic lifestyle. Instead, it means that we live a more balanced life, with our family and friends, people in general, as a higher priority than objects. It means understanding the very source of our happiness, discovering what makes us noble in character, and striving every day to become better and better people.
Once we understand what leads to our upliftment, as opposed to what abases us, then we can better see how every aspect of our life can be bent towards helping us achieve our goals in life. After all, nobody wants to be a worse person.
With business, we will no longer see it merely as a means of acquiring a little bit of money, but instead value it for the opportunities it offers us to interact with others.
Yes, we have to eat. I won't deny that. Paying the rent is a good thing, too. But are those the overall objectives of our life here on Earth? Are truly here merely to get a few more pieces of dust to clutter up the bookshelves of our lives? How many people have you ever heard, on their deathbed, wishing they had spent just a little more time in the office?
It sounds absurd to put it that way, but this is how many of us live our life.
Many years ago I made the very conscious decision to not do that.
When it came to choosing between advancing my career or spending five years as a stay-at-home dad to help raise my son, the choice was clear. I stayed at home. Well, rather I went out with him, picking a different virtue each week on which to focus. We would go to the conservatory and talk about how we could show this virtue to plants, or how they showed it to us. We explored those same questions at the zoo with the animals, and at the children's museum with kids. For the first five years of his life, this is what we did together.
I made almost no chain-mail during that time.
Do I regret it? Are you kidding me? I would do it all again in a heartbeat.
My wife and I made the mutual decision to cut out all those things that sucked up our money, such as cable tv and a cell phone, and live off her salary, which was far higher than mine. All our lives are far richer because of that decision.
At my booth in the summer, where I sell my work and make most of my money for the year, I have an unusual policy. If someone comes up to my table and obviously feels like they have to buy something to be a good person, that purchasing some material item somehow validates their existence, I will talk them out of buying anything. Instead, I spend time with them, asking questions and truly listening to their answers. I get to know them, praise them and encourage them. And if someone else comes up needing assistance, I ask them to wait while I finish with this very important person. And then I try to give the new person the same degree of attention, just to make sure they don't feel hurt.
People come first.
Over the years I have lost many sales because of this attitude, but I have gained something far more valuable: friends. And these friends have also, incidentally, become my greatest client base. They have demonstrated true "customer loyalty", returning year after year, bringing their friends with them.
True wealth lies not in what you own, but in who you are.
In the end, if you want to be a better business person, then you have to become a better person first.
Friday, April 10, 2015
A Love of Butterflies
All right, all right. I know it's been like years since I've posted. My wife has been getting on my case about it, but truthfully I've been too busy making things to take the time to write.
So today (which first came out as "toady" given my lack of ability, or "abailaitiy", to control where my fingers are going on this keyboard) I'm going to tell a story.
Are you comfortable? Do you have a nice hot drink by your side? Are you snuggled up with your teddy bear, or what have you?
Good.
Once upon a time, sometime in the middle of last year, probably around August, I was sitting at my booth in Bastion Square, Victoria, BC, Canada (drop by for a visit if you're in the neighbourhood). Now this booth is down towards the water-end of the square, and I have a glorious view of the harbour all summer long. Between me and the water, though, is a wide set of concrete stairs going down to Wharf Street, cross the street and there's the last building on the row, a tall staircase going to a parking lot and, basically, the water with the hills in the background.
So there I am on this gorgeous sunny summer day staring out at the water as I am wont to do when this little girl comes bounding up the stairs. She sees the "pretties" at my booth and begins running towards me as her mother and sister come following up the stairs behind her. She begins looking at all my wares, eyes wide in amazement (I love the unspoken compliments like that), and promptly says "I want that", pointing to a butterfly pendant, just as her mom is within earshot.
I see her mom heave a sigh, so I say to the little girl, "Well, I'd love to sell you this, but I have a very important rule at my booth."
She looks at me, as if to ask what that rule might be, just as her mom and sister arrive.
"I'm not allowed to sell anything until you have looked at all the booths in the market."
Her mother stared at me with something between disbelief and confusion.
"So", I continue, "have you been all through the market, all the way to my friend Robert at the very end and back again?"
"Nooooo", she says, fascinated by this new rule, which I have just made up on the spot.
"Well," I say, carefully stalling while my mind catches up to me, "when I was your age, there was something I really, really wanted. I had saved my money all summer for it, but hadn't found it yet. And one day, I went to a market just like this and I saw something that I thought was a little bit interesting, so I bought it. And wouldn't you know, not even 10 minutes later I saw the thing that I was really saving for just a bit further up. And by then it was too late. I had already spent my money and couldn't afford it. So, I have this rule. You have to look at everything in the market before you can buy anything from me. After that, I'll be very happy to sell you whatever you want."
Her mother was astonished. Here I was turning down an obvious sale for some strange reason. She was grateful, but didn't really know what to make of it.
Anyways, they looked a bit longer, thanked me for my time, and went on their merry way.
At that point one of my neighbours, who had heard all of this, came up to me laughing, saying she couldn't believe I had done that.
"Yeah, but did you see how grateful the mother was? Besides, it was only five dollars. That was well worth it."
The day continued, and a few hours later we had a bit of a lull, so my neighbour came over to chat again.
"So, did that little girl come back to get her butterfly?"
And just as she asked, who should come by but that same little girl.
This time there was no sense of a rushed frenzy of needing to spend the money burning a hole in her pocket. She was calm, collected, and very courteous.
"Excuse me," she began. "I went through the whole market, and even saw your friend Robert. I really like his books. The leprechaun one was my favorite. Anyways, I saw everything and I decided I would like to buy one of these butterflies, please."
How could my heart not melt at such sweetness?
As she was saying this, her family came up behind her with looks of amazement at her change of behaviour.
"That's wonderful", I said with as much sincerity as I could possibly give. "Which one would you like?" I waved my hand at the variety of butterflies there on the table.
She carefully looked them over before declaring, "I would like this one, please", carefully pointing to a blue and pink one, "because it's the closest you have to purple."
"Ok. Now, I'm a little short of butterflies today", I explained, "so I have a special deal going on." I just love the way my mouth says these things before I realize that they're true. "They're normally $5, but if you help me make one, then they're only $4." I had noticed that she had 2 toonies and a loonie in her hand. Don't you just love the names for Canadian currency?
"Ok", she said.
I brought out my box of supplies and asked her, "Which colours would you like? You need to pick out 2 big scales, and 4 small ones."
"Oooohhhh! You have purple!" I hadn't thought her eyes could get any wider, but boy was I wrong.
We laid out all the materials on my board, and I connected the first couple of pieces with her carefully watching.
"Is this a butterfly?" I held up the two scales dangling limply from a single link.
"No."
I added a bit more.
"How about now?" They were still dangling, but there were just more pieces dangling now.
"No."
"Well, we need to add another piece here. Can you hand me the large link, please?"
So she did.
"Doesn't this look just like a butterfly", I asked, holding up a wadded mess of links and scales.
"Noooooo", she said, trying not to laugh.
"Well, maybe if I just add this link here", I remarked, arranging the pieces carefully in one palm, hiding it from her view. And I added the last link, which sort of snaps the whole thing into place, and flicked it up in the air. It spun around and landed right in front of her, a perfectly formed purple and pink butterfly.
If I had thought her eyes were wide earlier, I was sorely mistaken.
With a burst of seven-year old excited energy, she dropped the toonies on the table, grabbed her little treasure and ran off shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! Look at what I got. A purple butterfly."
My neighbour, who was still watching, had tears in her eyes. Neither of us said anything as we watched the little girl bounce out of sight.
But what really made my day was about two minutes later when her mother came back.
"You know", she said, "she would have been happy getting just the blue one. But you just gave her a memory that will last her whole life. Thank you."
And that, dear reader, is what makes this all worth it.
So today (which first came out as "toady" given my lack of ability, or "abailaitiy", to control where my fingers are going on this keyboard) I'm going to tell a story.
Are you comfortable? Do you have a nice hot drink by your side? Are you snuggled up with your teddy bear, or what have you?
Good.
Once upon a time, sometime in the middle of last year, probably around August, I was sitting at my booth in Bastion Square, Victoria, BC, Canada (drop by for a visit if you're in the neighbourhood). Now this booth is down towards the water-end of the square, and I have a glorious view of the harbour all summer long. Between me and the water, though, is a wide set of concrete stairs going down to Wharf Street, cross the street and there's the last building on the row, a tall staircase going to a parking lot and, basically, the water with the hills in the background.
So there I am on this gorgeous sunny summer day staring out at the water as I am wont to do when this little girl comes bounding up the stairs. She sees the "pretties" at my booth and begins running towards me as her mother and sister come following up the stairs behind her. She begins looking at all my wares, eyes wide in amazement (I love the unspoken compliments like that), and promptly says "I want that", pointing to a butterfly pendant, just as her mom is within earshot.
I see her mom heave a sigh, so I say to the little girl, "Well, I'd love to sell you this, but I have a very important rule at my booth."
She looks at me, as if to ask what that rule might be, just as her mom and sister arrive.
"I'm not allowed to sell anything until you have looked at all the booths in the market."
Her mother stared at me with something between disbelief and confusion.
"So", I continue, "have you been all through the market, all the way to my friend Robert at the very end and back again?"
"Nooooo", she says, fascinated by this new rule, which I have just made up on the spot.
"Well," I say, carefully stalling while my mind catches up to me, "when I was your age, there was something I really, really wanted. I had saved my money all summer for it, but hadn't found it yet. And one day, I went to a market just like this and I saw something that I thought was a little bit interesting, so I bought it. And wouldn't you know, not even 10 minutes later I saw the thing that I was really saving for just a bit further up. And by then it was too late. I had already spent my money and couldn't afford it. So, I have this rule. You have to look at everything in the market before you can buy anything from me. After that, I'll be very happy to sell you whatever you want."
Her mother was astonished. Here I was turning down an obvious sale for some strange reason. She was grateful, but didn't really know what to make of it.
Anyways, they looked a bit longer, thanked me for my time, and went on their merry way.
At that point one of my neighbours, who had heard all of this, came up to me laughing, saying she couldn't believe I had done that.
"Yeah, but did you see how grateful the mother was? Besides, it was only five dollars. That was well worth it."
The day continued, and a few hours later we had a bit of a lull, so my neighbour came over to chat again.
"So, did that little girl come back to get her butterfly?"
And just as she asked, who should come by but that same little girl.
This time there was no sense of a rushed frenzy of needing to spend the money burning a hole in her pocket. She was calm, collected, and very courteous.
"Excuse me," she began. "I went through the whole market, and even saw your friend Robert. I really like his books. The leprechaun one was my favorite. Anyways, I saw everything and I decided I would like to buy one of these butterflies, please."
How could my heart not melt at such sweetness?
As she was saying this, her family came up behind her with looks of amazement at her change of behaviour.
"That's wonderful", I said with as much sincerity as I could possibly give. "Which one would you like?" I waved my hand at the variety of butterflies there on the table.
She carefully looked them over before declaring, "I would like this one, please", carefully pointing to a blue and pink one, "because it's the closest you have to purple."
"Ok. Now, I'm a little short of butterflies today", I explained, "so I have a special deal going on." I just love the way my mouth says these things before I realize that they're true. "They're normally $5, but if you help me make one, then they're only $4." I had noticed that she had 2 toonies and a loonie in her hand. Don't you just love the names for Canadian currency?
"Ok", she said.
I brought out my box of supplies and asked her, "Which colours would you like? You need to pick out 2 big scales, and 4 small ones."
"Oooohhhh! You have purple!" I hadn't thought her eyes could get any wider, but boy was I wrong.
We laid out all the materials on my board, and I connected the first couple of pieces with her carefully watching.
"Is this a butterfly?" I held up the two scales dangling limply from a single link.
"No."
I added a bit more.
"How about now?" They were still dangling, but there were just more pieces dangling now.
"No."
"Well, we need to add another piece here. Can you hand me the large link, please?"
So she did.
"Doesn't this look just like a butterfly", I asked, holding up a wadded mess of links and scales.
"Noooooo", she said, trying not to laugh.
"Well, maybe if I just add this link here", I remarked, arranging the pieces carefully in one palm, hiding it from her view. And I added the last link, which sort of snaps the whole thing into place, and flicked it up in the air. It spun around and landed right in front of her, a perfectly formed purple and pink butterfly.
If I had thought her eyes were wide earlier, I was sorely mistaken.
With a burst of seven-year old excited energy, she dropped the toonies on the table, grabbed her little treasure and ran off shouting, "Daddy! Daddy! Look at what I got. A purple butterfly."
My neighbour, who was still watching, had tears in her eyes. Neither of us said anything as we watched the little girl bounce out of sight.
But what really made my day was about two minutes later when her mother came back.
"You know", she said, "she would have been happy getting just the blue one. But you just gave her a memory that will last her whole life. Thank you."
And that, dear reader, is what makes this all worth it.
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