A while back, HJ News published an article about the worst jobs people do to earn a living. As I read through job descriptions that included filth, high pressure, poor conditions, tedium, danger, long hours, low wages, exposure, blood, guts, excrement and any/all things unpleasant, I said to myself, “Been there, done that.”
Hello, I’m a mom.
That job includes about every unsavory, disgusting, gory, tedious, tiring, stressful, taxing task in the world. And it’s completely pro bono!
So why do we do it?
First, because we chose to give birth (not that we really knew what we were getting into). Second, because we love those beings we birthed.
In addition to all the other job titles included in the role of motherhood, I can now add “Wedding Planner” to the list. All I can say is people who choose that profession on purpose are sadists. For the past four months I’ve been making lists, making calls, making reservations, making decorations, making plans and making myself crazy trying to make a beautiful, magical day for my daughter. And my daughter is not a bridezilla in the least. She’s been accommodating, decisive and frugal.
It was her idea to have a small simple wedding, but even a small simple wedding has the same details as a big elaborate wedding such as invitations, flowers, food, music, venue, decorations, dishes, dresses, pictures, etc., etc. So, I’m running myself ragged because I love my daughter.
I can’t imagine doing all this for strangers, even for pay. I got a brief sample of this profession one summer as a teenager when I worked at a party/wedding rental shop. I did mostly grunt work while the shop owner worked directly with customers, but I got occasional glimpses of trying to please whack jobs.
One mother-of-the-bride went postal when I used ribbon a shade darker of peach for the bows on the lanterns in the front yard than for the lanterns in the backyard. It was her fault I ran out of ribbon because when I arrived with her order she decided to attach extra bows to every stationary thing in her yard, natural or artificial.
It was lucky I even had extra ribbon in the delivery truck, but not enough to accommodate her needs in the desired shade. She demanded I drive an hour back to the shop to fetch ribbon in the right shade. Quoting her a doubled delivery charge to retrieve a $10 roll of ribbon didn’t faze her. I finally convinced her that nobody would notice since the different shade ribbons were isolated in the front yard. Her eyes eventually settled back into her head and she decided her daughter could still get married with two shades of peach ribbon present.
Oh, the nightmare stories I could tell! But I’ll spare you those details and the details of executing a thousand details of putting together a wedding.
I mock the psychos, but I now understand how they get that way. I haven’t freaked over a ribbon color yet, but there’s a tantrum in Hobby Lobby I’m not proud of directed at a clerk who gave me only 40% off instead of the advertised 50% off a $1.99 floral stem.