My first Mother’s Day at the store was unique. We never tried this stunt again, because it was a bit of a waste. It was spring 1995. The boss had brought in a bucket of roses. He said, “I want you to hand these out to every lady that looks like a mother, that comes in today.” OK, all well and good. A little on the weird/awkward/unique side, but OK. I didn’t want to do it but I didn’t have much choice. You had to kind of guess who was a mother and who wasn’t. Not fun! “Do I look that old to you?” was a common response.
I guess the problem is that most mothers didn’t really go out to buy CD’s on Mother’s Day. A lot of them headed out for morning brunch with the families, or spent the day with the families. Then you’d have the occasional crackhead mother that I would skip, because they’d probably just try to smoke the flowers. On Mother’s Day, it was pretty much just dudes. They were in there to buy the latest Jann Arden, Celine Dion, or Shania Twain for mom. As my bucket of flowers sat there, I figured I’d throw in a free one to any non-jerky dudes that were buying gifts for mom, too. I got rid of a couple more roses that way.
Finally towards the end of the day, the bucket of roses still half full, I had a visit. It was from a girl I liked named Holly. Holly was a big Depeche Mode fan, and I had some CD singles in stock. She picked a couple out and I decided, “What the hell? Worth a try.”
“These are for you, Holly.”
I handed her the rest of the roses. She was thrilled. I didn’t get a date out of it, but at least the flowers didn’t go to a crackhead!
Oh! And I did bring one home for my mom.
We never did the flowers thing again. Happy Mother’s Day!