Page 26 of Finally Mine
Harper laid a hand on Gloria’s shoulder. “You’re asking the wrong question. Do youwantthis? Do you want to know who’s having a baby girl and who got in trouble for forgetting a birthday? Do you want to be part of every graduation, anniversary, and funeral in this town? Do you want to make beautiful things and help people give beautiful gifts?”
She didn’t have to think about it. “Yes.”
“Then get your tiny ass in there.” Harper steered her toward the door. “I’ll wait for you out here, and we’ll go to lunch to celebrate.”
“What if I don’t get it?”
“Then you had your first job interview of your life, and the second one will go even better.”
With a small nod, Gloria straightened her shoulders and marched up to the front door. “I’m getting a milkshake,” she told Harper.
“That’s my girl!”
Inside it was cool and fragrant. There was music, soft and spa-like, filtering through speakers tucked away in corners. Natural wood shelves lined one wall, filled to the brim with greenery, vases, and knickknacks. There were ready-made wildflower bouquets in buckets next to the register, the perfect impulse purchase. Larger, more impressive arrangements were on display in a cooler against the wall. Tall houseplants made up a jungle of sorts in the middle of the tile floor.
A buxom woman wearing reading glasses on a chain tottered out of the back with a clipboard in one hand and an iPad in the other. Her blonde hair was streaked gray, and she wore chunky silver earrings.
“Gloria! So great to meet you officially. I’m Della.”
Gloria recognized her in the way that one small town resident recognizes another resident they’ve never actually met.
Mechanically, Gloria extended her hand. “Thank you for having me, Della.”
“Let me show you around,” Della said. “This is the sales floor,” she said, waving her arm grandly at the colorful chaos around them. “We do a lot of spontaneous foot traffic business with the ready-made bouquets. But most of our business is special orders, birthdays, funerals, weddings, apologies, etc.”
She waved to the register. “You’d be responsible for answering the phone, ringing up sales, updating SKU information in the POS. How are you at social media?”
“Oh. Um. I have Pinterest.”
“You’d need to learn Facebook and Instagram. Screw Twitter. Buncha whiners. My nephew told me I can run ads based on geographical location through Facebook, so I want that to start ASAP.”
Ads? Geographical location? Instagram?Gloria was starting to hyperventilate.
Della led the way past the register and into the back room. If it was chaotic in the front, it was tornado aftermath back here. Work surfaces were littered with cut stems, chunks of green Styrofoam, pieces of ribbon. Bruised petals were carelessly strewn in and around the two trash cans. Shelves held a clutter of supplies, shears, and greeting cards.
“This is where we assemble most of our arrangements,” Della explained. “We had a wedding this weekend, and we’re still cleaning up.”
“In there”—she gestured toward a big metal door— “is our cooler where all the fresh blooms are kept. Deliveries come in the back and go straight into the cooler. Sometimes you might need to whip up an arrangement if none of our floral designers are available.”
Gloria nodded. Not sure if she should be taking notes.
“For this position, you’d be doing a little bit of everything. We need someone who will coordinate deliveries, handle orders, potentially yell at suppliers when the orders come in wrong.” Della led the way into a narrow hallway off of which were a small bathroom, an equally sparse kitchen, and an office in the midst of what looked like a purge. “We use QuickBooks. Willing to train, of course.”
Gloria wasn’t one hundred percent sure what QuickBooks was. And she was pretty sure the only thing she was qualified for was sweeping the floors here.
“Let’s grab some coffee,” Della decided, leading the way back to the kitchen. She poured from the pot into floral mugs and gestured at the rickety table in the corner.
Gloria hesitated and then grabbed two sugars. She was more of a tea person, but she could manage a coffee if it made a better first impression. She took the seat opposite Della. The woman measured her with cool green eyes. Gloria sipped. Della nodded as if she’d decided.
“So the job is yours if you want it.”
Gloria blinked. “But you haven’t even asked me any questions.”
“Look, I don’t like the whole ‘show me your resume’ song and dance. None of our employees came from a flower background. I hire people, not experience.”
Score one for Gloria.
“I’ve never had a job, and I don’t know what QuickBooks is,” Gloria said. It was suddenly imperative that she be completely honest.
