Page 5 of Champagne Kisses
I finish washing up and step out of the shower, still feeling a bit edgy. I can’t solve my sexual frustration tonight, but I can order those party favors.
Chapter two
Maya
Idrop my purse and keys on the entryway table and immediately notice my site’s webpage is still open. Huh. That’s weird. Why didn’t it go to sleep while I was out?
I move closer and see a blinking popup with an error message; it looks like there was a glitch with the scheduler. Damnit! I thought for sure I turned on the service delay message! Rico, my usual engraver, is on vacation for the next two weeks, and the message wassupposedto let customers know engraving services will take extra time.
With Rico away, I have to use my backup engraver, Jerry. Don’t get me wrong; Jerry does good work, but he handles engraving for a ton of clients, so he takes about twice as long. When you run an online shop selling personalizedeverything(from shirts, to mugs, to key chains), fast turnaround is key if you want to move enough volume to break even.
I bite my nails nervously. I think it’s time to invest in my own engraving tool, at least for the small jobs. I’ll need to run the ROI for that, considering I might not even have thetimeto do my own engraving with all my other orders. And I just got my embroidery machine for big jobs two months ago? Hmm… Maybe I should stop engraving all together and focus exclusively on sewing, needlepoint, and embroidery. Ugh, but then Rico is out of a job! I’d hate to have to let him go after finally being able to hire another person.
I manually turn on the service delay message—double-checking the green, “Active” flag is on this time—and open up the one order that came through.
Customer Name:Adam Park
Item:Champagne toasting flute; 14K gold trim
Quantity:175
Personalized?:Yes
Message:
Bryan & Jessi
Cheers to forever!
Delivery Date:June 28, 2024
Last Four Digits of Credit Card: 9275
Shit, shit shit!! That’s less than two weeks away! Why couldn’t Rico just skip taking a vacation for multiple years in a row like a normal American? Then again, what sane personwould pass up seeing Machu Picchu in person? Rico could’ve handled such a tight timeline no problem, but I’ve got my doubts about Jerry.
Bracing myself for the worst, I push away from my makeshift office (it’s really just a board on top of four bins of thread, yarn, and assorted beads in the corner of my living room) and begin to pace my tiny kitchen while dialing Jerry. I rarely stand still when I’m on the phone. Something about the movement takes the sting off bad news, or gets me even more hyped about good news. But not even the pacing, my sunny, yellow walls, or the peach galette I have cooling on the counter are enough to brighten my spirits at the thought of not being able to deliver this order. Jerry’s brittle voice picks up after just one ring.
“Hellooooo, Ms Maya.” Jerry has a sing-song greeting and insists on calling me “Ms Maya”. He also insists I call him Jerry instead of Mr. Rossi, even though it goes against all of my home training.“Please, call me Jerry. Mr. Rossi’s my father,”he’d said when I first called him after finding his listing in the industry directory. Old people always think that’s the funniest joke.
“Hello, Jerry?” I start nervously. “I hope it’s not too late to call.” 8:30pm certainly isn’t too late for me, but Jerry’s seventy-five years old and a bit old-fashioned to boot.
“Of course not, Ms. Maya. How old do you think I am?” Could Jerry read minds? I know I hadn’t said that aloud. I clear my throat awkwardly.
“Oh, Jerry. I was just trying to be respectful of my elder, even though I wouldn’t guess you were a day over forty,” I lied. Jerrydefinitely looked a day over forty—11,000 of them. He laughed good-naturedly anyway.
“What do you need, dear?”
“I just got an order for 175 engraved champagne flutes…They need them in two weeks for an event on Cape Cod. I was hoping–”
“Sorry, Ms. Maya,” Jerry interrupts, “but I gotta stop you right there. There’s no way I can do that many in just two weeks.” I slump against the counter, dejected. I’ll resort to begging, if necessary.
“Oh pretty, pretty, please, Jerry!” I plead, keeping the whine out of my voice…mostly. “Couldn’t you do it for your favorite Brooklyn girl?”
“It’s impossible, Maya,” he replies firmly.
“Even for the best engraver in all of the five boroughs?” He laughs then, but I can tell my flattery is softening him up.
“Please, Jer,” I said, my tone serious. “You know how much I hate having to decline orders. It’s a bad look when you’re still trying to build your base. Plus, I think these are for a wedding. If we do the wedding, they could refer us for other weddings, come back for birthday gifts, corporate retreat merch…the possibilities are endless.”
