#my dad was about to argue with two walmart employees

[braveblackbutterfly]

Can we cancel today?

[bloodandrosesarenofun]

Landrymat - The Reincarnation Series

(After a long time out of commission I am back to writing! I thought I'd share the excerpt of the first chapter of my novel, inspired by the last two pictures I posted. Let me know your thoughts. <3

Tag list:

@luna-evans-writes )

I feel the night air push at my hair and flannel as both stir up at it's touch. The clock on my cellphone says it's only four-thirty but the sun is already on it's way down for the night, early as every winter. It's taken a while for me to actually feel the winter. Strangely enough it's actually just starting to get warm in Jacksonville again but at the same time all of the typical winter shit is just starting to happen. People ringing bells for charity and lighting up random palm trees in an attempt to be festive, and complaining about seeing people's breathe as though breathing doesn't really happen till it's cold out.

The bus thankfully drops me off only maybe a two or three minute walk from my destination so I don't have to deal with it that much. The being outside. I hate this neighborhood, sort of. It's not like it's particularly bad, and I know I grew up better than my mum did, but it is still pretty ghetto and run down. The laundromat is not so cleverly named 'Landrymat' but the word looks cooler to me on the marquee so I chuckle at it, glowing like an old school neon sign in some Tumblr kid's bedroom. I feel my face warm up as I go up to the door, pausing as anxiety creeps it's way up the back of my neck. I doubt anyone'll know what they are, or even care what I'm washing, but I still feel that despite the logical side of my brain arguing against it.

'CLEANERS AND DRY CLEAN

WASHING MACHINES ONLY 50 CENTS PER LOAD

COME IN AND ASK ABOUT OUR SPECIALS'

I question what kind of specials a laundromat could possibly have but I suppose they mean deals on multiple loads? I glance at my backpack's strap and realize I'm not sure if I need to wash anything separate. The idea of asking up at the desk makes my heart go number than all the years of abuse so I decide to just go in and figure it out myself. "I'm only carrying somewhere over a hundred dollars worth of material in my bag, what's ruining a couple of them," I mutter. 

Walking into the laundromat the first thing I see are all the washers and dryers so it takes me a secound to find the desk. 

I hold my tongue about how stupid I think it is that it's in the back of the room (which it is about the size of a large master bedroom) as I walk up to the counter, I'd never been to a laundromat before and my anxious ass wants to eliminate as much risk of my looking stupid as I possibly can. "Hey," I try and lower my voice, standing straighter than I usually do. It's an effort given I've spent years training my voice to be high when I wanted something from people since mine was too low to be as quickly helped as the prissy tea kettle sounding girls, of course the years of manipulation would bite me eventually. I always hated that voice. "I need to wash, um, two loads of laundry."

"Do you need a dry clean?" Asks the burly desk lady, her hair braided back in a frizzy mess that said she probably didn't care much about work appearances and her tone suggesting she didn't really care about work. I shake my head 'no'. "Then pick a machine and just let me know if you need change." 

"Oh. Okay. Thanks." I walk over to the wall that obviously has machines with wet clothes and soap tumbling in them and want to scream at the lack of signs. I survey the room, finding that there aren't really many people in here, thankfully. One woman sits on her phone in a waiting chair, charging it in the wall and speaking about as loudly about her divorce as it takes to let the whole entire room know her life story. A man strikes out with a red head a couple machines down from me, and an Asian lady who might be the manager talks with one of the employees apparently about the detergents. I pick a machine near the end and set my backpack down on a miscellaneous chair at the last machine. All of my binders are bundled up and shoved unceremoniously in the bag. I grab my wallet out and go to figuring out starting up the machine before I take them out, zipping back the backpack. 

Living in a house where either your grandma or your father do all of your laundry (mostly because they insist) is feeling much less convenient as the feeling of intimidation from trying to figure out a new basic skill sets in. I stare blankly at the space beside the laundry machine, feeling fog set in, when the beep of the woman on the phone's laundry being done sets me off I jump, my heart thudding erratically in my chest. I don't know why I feel this way, and I can't find a rational way to deal with it. I try to do the breathing and focus thing but with nothing to focus on I panic, I dig my nails into the skin just under my wrist, grabbing my hoodie to try and hide it underneath as I claw at myself. It helps me. I feel dizzy but after a moment I'm back on the ground, almost like getting off something unstable for the first time in a while. My mind felt like it was still thinly veiled but I find myself able to lean against the washers. Shaking my head, I nod at my reflection, fixing my t shirt and going to figuring out the laundry. When I get it together, tossing everything from my backpack and quickly shutting it seems more discreet and I contemplate only doing one load just for the convenience of it, but I decide against it thinking about my lack of a job and money to replace for that. The machine turns on with a loud sound and I shut my eyes against it. Feeling physically sick I hastily take out my headphones again from where I've shoved them into my backpack's pocket and begin playing a song from Quietdrive, thinking the guitar and easily placed sexual lyrics will help me take my mind off my mental breakdown. The seats in the 'Landrymat' are cheap but they aren't as uncomfortable as I thought. I sit with my legs up weirdly crooked in the seat, looking around to see if anybody will care about it. The red haired girl from earlier is looking my way but her expression doesn't look irritated so I ignore it. The air is clean smelling, and the chemicals burn my nose, but it's all something to focus on as I zone out, inconsequentially digging my nails into my skin again, my hoodie wrapped inconsequentially around my hands like I was trying to bide off the cold. I feel alittle less stranded with the music blasting. It drowns out the other sounds. It takes a little while for my darks to be done, and I find myself way too intrigued by the fact you could never tell what the mass of black fabric is. It looks so inconsequential when it feels like if anybody saw it, knowing what it was, it would ruin my life.

I remove the clothes and set them in the dryer, taking a secound to pick the right cycles and having to google it to be sure, then put my lighter binders in for the same cycle. Feeling eyes on me, I turn and glance around the laundromat. The manager is nowhere to be seen and the employee is sweeping, the woman on her phone is talking to the man from earlier, and the red headed girl is staring at me. I turn to glance at the counter, and turn back to find her still watching. 

I check my chest, making sure my shirt is on right and you can't see my binder through it or peeking over the top. I haven't said much since I got here and since I know my voice is the least passing thing about me I find it difficult to pinpoint what could be wrong with me. Is she really clocking me? Or trying to figure it out maybe? The girl doesn't seem deterred by the fact I've noticed her staring at me and I can't tell if I find that more unsettling. I get a strange vibe off her, almost like I've met her before, maybe a few times. My head tilts to the side as I study her. She has tan skin, and I can tell she doesn't use as much lightener as most Asian girls. Her face and eyes remind me of a wolf (and I'm not sure if that's crazy to say but) despite her not coming off as intimidating at all to me. Something about her's intriguing, and I find myself wanting to talk to her. She's dressed in all guys clothing, stuff you could probably find after a few minutes of digging through the small grungy punk section of Walmart or the closet of you dad's old teenage bedroom, but she wears it like a model on one of the magazines on the table. Her makeup is carefully done and her eyes are piercing as the stare into mine. "D-Do you need something?" I question, being conscious about my voice as I hear it waiver with nerves. I figure either she'll let me know where I know her from or maybe my saying something first will keep her from outing me, even if there aren't that many people in here. I don't think my heart can currently take being called out as trans* or gay.

Her eyes cut from mine to something behind my head and I turn around with an eyebrow raised in question. In the top right corner to the room is a little TV monitor playing the news on mute. Headlines role over the screen as they talk about the state of the world. I knew things have been bad, but the newscast for the day just seems to be 'The world is fucked pretty well' and I'm shocked at how little I've heard people talk about change despite even the holiday season's passing by. I turn back to find the girl grimacing at the screen. She looks down at me then shakes her head, "No. Nothing at all."

I make a face, closing the washing machine I hit start. She doesn't stare directly but I still catch her looking. "The world's pretty shit for just past the holidays isn't it?" Mentally, I kick myself for talking. If she chose to leave alone why wouldn't I let her? 

She looks at me and nods slowly. "Yeah," she says, "Yeah it is. I don't think anyone gives a fuck." Her worlds hold a specific malice and she grits her teeth, looking back at the screen like she's thinking of someone specific. "Did you really think they would? Are you really into rights or something?" I realize that's a stupid question. "I mean, um, like activist work? Specifically."

She shrugs. "Yeah, no, but I guess you could say I work closely with someone-" she stops herself, "who has a pretty good hand in this business."

"You work for weather station?" I ask.

She smiles, shakes her head. "No. Don't worry about it, I'm probably just over reacting as always. Thinking people have more power than they have. Nobody was gonna pay attention to this," she gestures to the screen and crosses her arms, "anyway."

"Well maybe it'll blow over with at least as little damage to people as it can manage."

"Yeah, I doubt it." She goes up to a machine and pulls out her dry clothes, beginning to fold them for a wicker basket.

I look down at my phone, my mum's texted me and I groan inwardly as I text to let her know I'm okay. "What about you?" I hear the girl ask. 

My eyebrows furrow. "What about me?"

"What do you care about?" She asks. 

It's a strange question. What do I care about? "I guess the environment."

"You guess?" she pauses.

"I mean, yeah."

"That's not a lot of caring." She continues to fold her things into her basket without looking at me, reminding me of an old movie scene. "There's no passion in you guessing."

"I guess-" I stop, then shrug. "I don't care much about a lot of things right now." I admit. Something about the girl's demeanor changes, and I try but I can't read her expression. She seems weirdly different then and I try and find a time when I may've seen her like this. "That's a sad way to live. But I guess I get it."

I shrug awkwardly, shifting my weight on one foot. "I just can't find that passion I suppose."

"You know supposing is just guessing with a different style?"

"I'm surprised someone else does."

"Well. My advice. Find something worth fighting for. Fast." The jokingness fades from her eyes and she suddenly looks very serious, her tone almost a warning.

"Okay." I say. "I'll work on it."

"Good." She smiles, grabbing her basket and heading for the door. "I suppose I'm just not gonna get a name after that." I turn back to my wash and see there's still five minutes to wait for the dryer.

"It's Rosé." I hear a girl say. Turning around, I see the red head walking away without getting an answer from me. "Scorpious," I doubt she heard me. 

When I'm done with my laundry I'm happy to fold my binders back into my backpack without incident. The laundromat is only a short walk and an even shorter bus ride from my house, but considering the fact that the next bus is an hour away I take my phone out and do the next best thing.

"Hey, George. You wanna get pizza with me? I'll pay if you drive."

[marilynnewbury-blog]

Every year my husband and I argue about where to go on vacation. We've been married thirty-six years so that means we have had thirty-six Vacation Wars.

MY HUSBAND DOES NOT LIKE TO TRAVEL. I DO.

My husband, Cliff, likes to be home more than he likes to be away. I, on the other hand, prefer to leave home the minute our holidays begin and return in the wee hours of the morning just before going back to work. When vacation time rolls around, we both pull out our lists. We don't actually write them out, for after this many years, they are well-rehearsed. My list varies from year to year, but Cliff's never does.

It is not enough that I have set foot on four continents, stood by the shores of three oceans, and travelled to most of Canada and the United States.

I have enjoyed seeing the tulips in Holland, the Viking settlement in L'Anse aux Meadows NL, and the sand dunes on the Oregon coast, but I have not yet experienced Paris.

I have marvelled at the crashing waves in Cape Spear, NL  and gazed at the Alps and London Bridge in England, but I have never driven across the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, CA.

I have safaried in the Serengeti, resorted in Mombasa, and shopped in the Jerusalem Old City Market, but I have not been to Alaska.

I want to see more!

Our summer vacation war begins sometime in April or May.

After this many years, we have an unwritten script, and every year we faithfully repeat it.

WIFE: Where are we going to go on vacation this year?

HUSBAND: I don’t want to be gone for too long.

WIFE: We need to get away and have a break.

HUSBAND: At the end of my holidays, I don’t want to look back and see that I was hardly home.

WIFE: So, where would you like to go?

HUSBAND: We could take some short trips around here, and it would be  cheap. We could spend the last half of the vacation at home.

WIFE: What are you going to do at home?

HUSBAND: I would like to organize my tools, and then sit in my chair and read or watch TV.  I love being in my house. It is so quiet.

WIFE: QUIET? The house is way too noisy!

HUSBAND: NOISY?  How can it be noisy?

WIFE: The house is always talking to me:  the paperwork screams to be filed, the bed clamours to be made, the weeds laugh behind my back, and the plants yell to be watered. I can’t relax here!

And so the tense negotiations begin.

Fortunately, my husband loves to visit our families who live on opposite sides of the continent.  When our three children were younger, driving was the only financially feasible way to visit.  With the significant road time, I always hoped for potential stops along the way.  This was a problem.

Cliff sits behind the steering wheel. His mantra is drive, drive, drive. His only focus is the final destination. Food and bathroom breaks are annoying interruptions that deter him from his mission of reaching his goal as quickly as possible. His warrior instincts kick in and he aims to conquer the road by passing as many vehicles as possible. I am not sure what he hopes to win, but I have seen the defeated look on his face when he watches all of the vehicles zoom by that he just passed. All stops to view waterfalls or scenic viewpoints only mean he has to pass the same cars again. Enjoying the journey between points A and B is not in his brain vocabulary.

My role is the navigator. I am not sure why my husband still trusts me, but he follows my directions. Over time, I have discovered that my husband has a vulnerable spot in his crusty no-breaks stance: if I can somehow get him to stop, he enjoys almost any place in the world.

I have learned a few ‘tricks’ to use this chink in his armour to my advantage.

TEN STRATEGIES FOR VACATION BLISS

1. Plan bathroom breaks for stops at Visitor Centres

Timing is important: bladder urgency is best when entering a new country, state, or province as visitor centres are usually close to the borders. If possible, also bring out snacks and suggest getting fuel.  This will extend the visit so the children have time to browse inside the Tourism Center. Return to the vehicle armed with promotional literature describing the tantalizing local attractions down the road.

2. Get the children on side by creating interest in the above brochures

Start reading the tourism promo material out loud. The children will hopefully join in and want to visit the sites in the brochures. If the children are enthusiastic, Dad will probably agree to go to at least one.

This subtle strategy led to visits to the Terry Fox Monument in Thunder Bay ON, the Reversing Falls in St. John NB, the Statue of Liberty on our only visit to New York NY, a ride on Maid of the Mist at the Niagara Falls ON, and the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto ON. (My son, Stephen, found a brochure for the Toronto museum in a tiny Information Kiosk in rural Saskatchewan and kept it safe all the way to Newfoundland and Labrador and then back to Toronto.  He insisted that we go to this museum, and none of us were disappointed.)

3. Get lost with purpose.

Lose the map-reading skills and give directions for an unplanned but desired location. As we were passing by Quebec City QC, my husband was adamant that we would not go into the city, despite my loving pleadings. Finally, I meekly said, “Well, we have to stop for lunch.” As the designated map-reader, I directed him across the bridge and then suddenly had trouble understanding the map. My husband trustingly followed my prompts for a confusing route, and somehow we happened to end up in the centre of old Quebec City.

There was no turning back as my husband now wanted to stay. He rolled down his windows to smell the “European-style” air, strolled around the Old City under the royal shadow of the Chateau Frontenac, toured the Citadel, and tried to have a conversation with the French locals at an ice cream stand. I got to go to Quebec City, and incidentally had no trouble reading the map to get back on to the highway.

4. Use This Would be Good for the Children - shamelessly

I wanted to see Ottawa ON. My husband did not. I dug deep into my manipulation bank and suggested that seeing the Parliament Buildings would be a great educational experience for our offspring. He grudgingly agreed but firmly announced that we would NOT be stopping. I agreed, of course.

When we arrived at the hub of our country's government, I reiterated that the children really did need to go on a tour. My husband, not wanting to be an obstacle to his children's academic success, unwillingly complied. Ten minutes into the tour, however, we would not have been able to drag him away. We stayed for an extra hour to watch the politicians in the House of Commons and then remained for yet another hour to observe the Question Period.

By now, my husband was hooked on seeing Ottawa and the family was free to explore the city. We visited not one, but two museums: the Canadian Aviation and Space Museum and the Museum of Canadian Civilization. After a driving tour of important landmarks and a leisurely supper on a restaurant patio, I eventually pointed out that it might be time to leave. My husband agreed, reluctantly. We had been in Ottawa for six hours.

5. Find destinations that are attractive to the children

In the interest of seeing something new, find activities the children would like to do. I wanted to see Shakespeare at Stratford. My husband and all three kids gave an emphatic, unified negative response. I acquiesced and instead we went to a Toronto Blue Jays Game in Toronto ON.

I got my revenge by always cheering for the losing team, but secretly loved seeing everyone else enjoying themselves. This technique also worked for a trip to the Redwood Forest CA and for surfing in the Pacific Ocean. Dad hauled the RV trailer on the paper-clip shaped road to Tofino BC for one of our final vacations with our two youngest children.

6. Suggest activities that your husband will not be able to resist

Casually mention that the Pioneer Auto Museum is ahead in Murdo, SD. Read the sign, loudly, about the Anne Murray Centre in Springhill, NS. When in the vicinity of the OMNIMAX Theatre in Science World, Vancouver BC, read the titles of films now playing and ask if any of them sound interesting. The go-to-no-fail guarantee for a desired scenic detour is to find a restaurant that has great seafood, preferably with a lobster buffet. Since this method is so successful, I am already planning to use it for future vacations when we are close to Graceland, the White House, and Paris.

7.  Occasionally, insist on your own choice and hope the family will enjoy it

The children complained long and loud when I insisted on a visit to Butchart Gardens on Vancouver Island BC. Fortunately, they loved it all - the fountains, concerts, and variety of gardens.  We stayed much longer than intended as they begged to see the lights in the dark.

8.  Take advantage of unintended delays to see the local sights

Over the years, we have had our share of unexpected delays, usually due to vehicle problems. One year, we had planned be in Ottawa ON by July 1st but instead were stuck in Thunder Bay for Canada Day. We embraced our situation and found plenty of patriotic inspiration in the local fireworks and genuine community spirit. Another time, a belt broke on our vehicle in Portland OR on a weekend. While we waited for the part to be shipped in, we toured  the International Rose Test Garden, rode the gondola across the river, and admired the famous bridges. We had similar stories when we waited for repairs in Jasper, Edmonton, St. John's, Halifax, and Milton.

A less pleasant memory is the week we spent in the Walmart parking lot in Red Deer AB waiting for our income tax refund to be deposited into our bank account so that we would have money to continue our holidays. Family tensions soared, but regularly browsing in Walmart helped to ease the friction. The friendly employees were very hospitable, and we found out later that the children created a home theatre for themselves by regularly watching the  TVs in the electronic department.

9.  Apologize for tactical errors

The day I asked to please see the ocean just one more time when we already were very behind schedule.

The year my detours took longer than intended and we had to drive 24/7 to get back to a wedding.

The time my creative trip planning for the longer scenic route took us through the middle of a dangerous storm, and we had to stop driving. Unfortunately, time was of essence. My husband was not pleased. I'm sorry!

Sometimes, I should just keep my mouth shut and be thankful for sights already seen.

10. Finance Creatively

When the amount of road stretches further than the money, find creative ways to pay for the last leg of the trip home. Increase credit card limits, go into overdrafts, and make late payment arrangements.

This usually is not a good idea, and will be sure to enter the Vacation War dialogue the following year. Your husband will likely adamantly declare he will NOT be going into debt for this year's vacation. In my opinion, he is just looking for an excuse to stay home!

The children are grown and no longer come with us on vacations, but the script remains the same.

Cliff wants to stay at home or just go away for a few days.

I want to see new sights and be gone for as long as possible.

A FEW YEARS AGO...

The annual War of the Vacation was over-shadowed by the pain in my husband’s aching leg. With his hip needing to be replaced for the fifth time, holiday plans were uncertain and unpredictable. The war was more of a discussion dance.

My husband graciously went on a few short trips with me to northern Alberta, the Kootenays, and Banff, which was all he could endure. We arrived home a week too late for Cliff and a week too early for me. When he offhandedly suggested that I could travel by myself for a week, I did not hesitate to accept the offer.

After some creative financing, for which I had plenty of experience, and passport in hand, I was soon on the road heading southwest to Montana. One state led to another – Idaho, Oregon, Nevada, and California. I stopped in San Francisco. It was definitely worth the five days of driving for a two-day visit!

I took a tour on the top level of a double decker bus and had to duck so that trees would not whack my head. I saw the painted ladies.  After a short boat ride and a precarious stint on an old-fashioned street car, I strolled the busy pier while inhaling the scents and sounds. I did not go on the large tour boat to Alcatraz, however, as I wanted to wait so I could share that experience with Cliff.

I keyboarded the first draft of this article while gazing at the swell of the San Francisco ocean, intermittently wondering which of my schemes would work to get Cliff to  San Francisco on a future trip.

But for that year, the Vacation War was over,and I had seen the Golden Gate Bridge.

TWO YEARS LATER...

Cliff got his fifth right hip and was able to travel again, so we decided to go to the Grand Canyon AZ. After my pressured persuasion and the promise of fresh seafood, he unenthusiastically agreed to a return trip home via the longer route up the west coast. His patience was as sketchy as my map reading ability, especially when the extra miles stretched into additional hours and days. His demeanour changed when we finally got to San Francisco CA. He loved everything about it - the harbour and bridges, the architecture, the roads, the wharf with its sea lions and buskers, and especially the seafood.

The best part for me was the hoped-for harbour boat ride to Alcatraz,and getting to share the view of the Golden Gate Bridge with my husband!

THIS WEEK...

My husband and I have had our annual Vacation War conversations. After we each said our piece, I read him the script I had written several years ago, and we had indeed repeated the dialogue almost word for word. Cliff was not amused.

My husband says that he would like to go on a road trip to the West Coast, but I think he would be just as happy with a drive to the other side of the city. I would like to travel to Yukon, the Arctic Ocean, and Alaska so that I could remove them from my Never Seen list.

So far, none of my strategies of gentle persuasion are working.

Not even the lure of a ferry ride, fishing, cute gift shops, gold panning, or seafood restaurants seems to be having any effect.

Cliff claims that the mosquitoes will be as big as dinasours.

I'm not sure how he knows, since he has never been to the Yukon or Alaska.

I am trying some new strategies to try to lure Cliff to a trip up north:

Enticement: I am hoping that my writing, pictures, and publicity will change his mind.

Manipulation: We could save money, as I now qualify for seniors discounts.

Guilt: Since I am getting older, this might be the last year I will be able to go on such a long trip.

If he bites, I will perhaps be able to ride a train in the Yukon, see dancing Northern Lights, relax by the Arctic ocean, eat baked Alaska, go to a museum, and experience travelling on the Alaska Highway. I have offered to just go by myself, but so far he has not agreed. He probably does not want me to have seafood without him.

In any case, the pysanka egg in Vegreville will have to wait for another year.

Thanks to my children, Stephen, Michael, and Julia (now 30, 28 and 25).

Without you, we would not have had any family vacations,

and I might have been a vacation widow.

Who do you think should win this year's vacation War?

Vote in the COMMENT SECTION BELOW

Originally published at https://www.marilynnewbury.com Subscribe: http:subscribe.marilynnewbury.com

PHOTO CREDITS

Some day, most likely in the very distant future, I will sort through thirty years of photos. Then I will have actual pictures of our vacations for the website. For now, I am grateful to pixabay, unsplash, and flickr for permission to use their photos.

INTRODUCTION

(Golden Gate Bridge CA; Pysanka Egg,Vegreville AB) Golden Gate Bridge in fog; pixabay SuzyLu; Pysanka Egg pixabay Shaawsjank61; Globe in Hands pixabay Geralt

PLACES I HAVE TRAVELLED

(Tulips, Holland; Viking Settlement, L'Anse aux Meadows NL; Sand Dunes OR, Cape Spear NL, Alps, Switzerland; Tower Bridge, London, England; Serengeti Safari, Tanzania; Mombasa Resort, Kenya; Jerusalem Market, Israel)

Tulips in Holland by Louisa Mac CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); L'Anse aux Meadows Historical Park NL by Eric Titcombe CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Sand Dunes OR pixabay Macmaus; Cape Spear NL by Matt Boulton CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped & resized); Alps pixabay violetta; London Tower Bridge pixabay peremon; Serengeti, Tanzania personal; Mombasa, Kenya pixabay benarudo; Jerusalem Old City Market by israeltourism CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped and resized)

PLACES I HAVE NOT SEEN

(Eiffel Tower, Paris; Golden Gate Bridge, CA; Alaska). Eiffel Tower pixabay Kaz; Golden Gate Bridge pixabay CC0 Public Domain; Alaska wolf pixabay Public Domain Pictures

TRIP NAVIGATION

Car Sign pixabay CopyrightFreePictures; Glasses with Map pixabay allysonmiller1969 border

STRATEGIES FOR VACATION BLISS

1. Plan bathroom breaks for stops at Visitor Centres. Welcome Center pixabay SooZ8

2. Get the children on side by creating interest in the above brochures (Terry Fox Memorial, Thunder Bay ON; Reversing Falls, St. John NB; Statue of Liberty, New York NY; Boat Ride, Niagara Falls ON; Royal Ontario Museum,Toronto ON)

Terry Fox Statue, Thunder Bay ON by Brett Vachon CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Reversing Falls, St. John NB by Sonja CC BY 2.0  (cropped & resized); Statue of Liberty pixabay nyc_napa; Maid of the Mist, Niagara Falls pixabay CC0 Public Domain; Royal Ontario Museum by Carsten CC BY 2.0

3. Get lost with purpose. (Quebec City QC:  Bridge, Old City; Chateau Frontenac; The citadel)

Quebec City Bridge unsplash Drew Coffman ; Old Quebec City pixabay Breaktime; Chateau Frontenac by Prayitno CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); The Citadel by Alonso Inostrosa Psijas CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped & resized)

4. Use This Would be Good for the Children - shamelessly (Ottawa ON:  Parliament Buildings; House of Commons; Canadian Aviation and Space Museum; Museum of Canadian Civilization; Rideau Canal)

Parliament Buildings pixabay Festivio; House of Commons by Scazon CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); CH-113 Labrador chopper in Canadian Aviation and Space Museum by shankar s. CC BY 2.0; Museum of Canadian Civilization by sookie CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Rideau Canal pixabay pcowan5188

5. Find destinations that are attractive to the children (Rogers Centre for Toronto Blue Jays Game,Toronto ON; Redwood Forest CA; Surfing at Tofino BC)

Rogers Centre Toronto Blue Jays by thatlostdog--  CC BY 2.0 (cropped and resized); Redwood Forest personal; Surfing personal

6. Suggest activities that your husband will not be able to resist (Pioneer Auto Museum, Murdo SD; Anne Murray Centre, Springhill NS; OMNIMAX Theatre in Science World, Vancouver BC)

Pioneer Auto Museum, Murdo SD personal; Anne Murray Centre, Used by permission from Anne Murray facebook page; OMNIMAX Theatre, Science World, Vancouver BC by David Stanley CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Lobster pixabay Alina Kuptsova

7.  Occasionally, insist on your own choice and hope the family will enjoy it (Butchart Gardens, Vancouver Island BC)

Butchart Gardens, Vancouver Island, BC pixabay Walkways Photoman; Fountains marybettiniblank; Star Pond pwindsor; Foot Bridge Photoman

8.  Take advantage of unintended delays to see the local sights (Canada Day in Thunder Bay ON; International Rose Test Garden, Portland OR; Walmart in Canada)

Canada Day Fireworks in Thunder Bay ON by Derek Hatfield CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); International Rose Test Garden, Portland OR by Neeta Lind CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Walmart by Mike Kalasnik CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped & resized)

9.  Be prepared for tactical errors

Driving in Rain by Jason Trbovich CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized)

A FEW YEARS AGO...

Marilyn's Trip to San Francisco (San Francisco CA: Double Decker Tour Bus; Painted Ladies; Street Car; Pier 39; Ocean)

San Francisco:  Double decker tour bus by Nick Ares CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped & resized); Painted Ladies by Jiahui Huang CC BY-SA 2.0 (cropped & resized); Street Car pixabay jingoo10200; Pier 39 pixabay skeeze; Ocean pixabay suyashdixit

TWO YEARS LATER...

Cliff & Marilyn's Trip (Grand Canyon & San Francisco: Harbour & Bridges; Cityscape; Lombard Street; Busker's Guitar; Fishermans Wharf)

Grand Canyon: Photo by Alexandre Godreau on Unsplash (cropped & resized)

San Francisco: Harbour and Bridges pixabay jessebridgewater; Cityscape pixabay tpsdave; Lombard Street by Holiday Point CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Busker's Guitar by Bob Doran CC BY 2.0 (resized and cropped) NOTE:  I did not actually see this busker or his guitar; Fishermans Wharf pixabay sarangib

Boat Tour in San Francisco Harbour (Boat; Alcatraz; Golden Gate Bridge)

Boat to Alcatraz pixabay sarangib; Alcatraz Prison pixabay BKD; Golden Gate Bridge with blue sky pixabay kahsky

THIS WEEK...

Arrows pixabay geralt

Travel Destination Maps (Yukon; Arctic Ocean; Alaska/North America)

Yukon map by CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Arctic Ocean by Dan Markeye CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Alaska/North America map by CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized)

Insects (Mosquito & Dinasour)

Mosquito and Dinosaur pixabay OpenClipart-Vectors

Yukon & Alaska Destinations

(Alaska Ferry; Fishing Salmon; Simply Salmon Gift Shop; Gold Panning; Crab Shack)

Alaska Ferry pixabay skeeze; Fishing Salmon pixabay LoveToTakePhotos; Simply Salmon by Public Domain; Gold Panning by CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized); Crab Shack by CC BY 2.0 (cropped & resized)

[glassbirdheart-blog]

The Secret Sexism in the Jewelry Industry by Tricia Norling

By now it’s hardly a secret that there is a sexism problem on the corporate level in the jewelry industry. A class action lawsuit filed against Sterling, the parent company of some of America’s most recognizable chain stores like Kay and Jared the Galleria of Jewelry, has brought the issue to the forefront. While that suit undoubtedly has merit and will expose even further the discrimination women in the business face on a daily basis, it won’t ever shed light on the industry as a whole.

Retail chain stores are hardly representative of the jewelry and diamond industry. These corporate outlets in malls and shopping centers around the country make up a small percentage of the business. Sure, they’re the most visible and the most well known because they’re the names you see on tv, the jingles you jokingly sing to anyone who tells you they’re thinking of getting married, usually to their chagrin. They’re the every man’s jewelry store where prefabbed, machine-set pieces bought and made in bulk are proffered for sale to the consumer who wants the convenience of buying something ready to wear and “popular”. It’ll offend plenty of people but I have no problem going on record as saying these corporate chain stores are the WalMart of the jewelry industry. The real jewelers of the world are hidden in plain sight. They’re the small businesses and dealers that repair the rings you drop off to those mall stores for sizing and they are the ones supply those same mall stores’ corporation’s buyers with everything from diamonds to metalsmithing tools to display elements. These jewelers are the real deal, most of them having apprenticed and studied for years (10 year minimum just for diamond cutters), they hold prestigious credentials and spend lifetimes completing formal continuous education for everything from identifying gems, grading diamonds to stringing pearls.

Indie dealers and jewelers don’t have much in common with the big corporate conglomerates. While your local mom and pop jewelry store might have retail cases filled with brilliant, tantalizing baubles just like the chain shops, they are a different animal completely. That is, except for one insurmountable detail: sexism.

In the interest of transparency I should disclose that I am in fact an independent jeweler. I have been in the industry for nearly 20 years. I am obviously going to be a bit biased but I need not be. The issue is hardly mine alone. In fact, it’s fair to say that over the last year I’ve been communicating with upwards of 100 other female jewelers from around the United States. We range in age from early 20s to to 72 and we run the whole gamut of industry positions. We are gemologists, designers, gem cutters, diamond cutters, store owners, bench jewelers, shop managers, silversmiths, diamond wholesalers and more. We might have varying job titles but we share at least one thing in common in that nearly all the women who contacted me face blatant sexism routinely, shockingly, sometimes daily. There’s a really surprising aspect that kept creeping up, one that none of us truly realized was a common truth: the sexism we deal with doesn’t stem only from men in the industry. It’s our customers that dish out the biggest doses of ignorance and offense. What makes it worse is that it’s widely accepted as “part of being a girl in a boy’s club industry”, according to Stephanie P., 36, a gemologist and repair shop owner in Sarasota, Florida.

Stephanie admitted she gave up correcting sexist remarks or offensive commentary from her clients long ago. In her own words, “It feels like a no-win battle and an emotional expense. I used to get so upset over winks or getting called sweetie but now I just let it slide. I’m too busy trying to prove myself through my work to argue with words.” Unfortunately, Stephanie isn’t alone. More than a few women jewelers were eager to explain how they’ve risen above challenging the sexism they encounter daily. Though this might be a noble approach in theory, it’s not helping anyone to quietly ignore the insults veiled as questions and back handed flattery. I’ve experienced these myself from the beginning and still do on a routine basis. Not one week goes by in which I am not asked to consult “my boss” for a second opinion. Usually, the offending client is referencing a male in my shop in my employ. It is hardly a big leap to deduce that by inferring a man would or could give a better, more reliable answer to whatever query is at hand I am clearly being disregarded as less experiened, less trustworthy or less able than a nearby man.

I am hardly alone.

Across the board, my own unofficial but unrelenting research into this issue has shed light on a slew of comments and questions women in the industry hear routinely. These off color remarks are so alike and so repetitive from coast to coast it’s almost hard to believe they aren’t coordinated. Alas, they are not. In fact, most of the women I’ve talked to about this issue don’t know each other and have not been privy to the anecdotes I’ve collected. Unbeknownst to them, they were telling me the same story over and over as if they were reading from a script written seemingly in 1952 when June Cleaver was the model of the ideal American woman.

Casey, a 20something jeweler, store manager and graduate gemologist is often met with dismissive comments like, “Isn’t that cute that your dad lets you work here. I bet you get to wear the best stuff.” or “Is the real jeweler here?” even after introducing herself as the shop’s manager and jeweler. She shrugs such things off as nothing more than an annoyance, focused more on the tasks on hand than the social slights littering their interactions. Casey doesn’t often stop to address such comments. Like many other female jewelers, she is caught between a rock and a hard place. Pointing out the offense immediately and correcting the misguided commentary risks making the client feel stupid or awkward, possibly resulting in a lost transaction.

“It’s like walking a tightrope when I have to make an on-the-spot decision to stand my ground.” says Aviva K, 48, a diamond wholesaler and dealer based in New York. Aviva was born into a long line of diamond cutters and dealers. She knew in her teens she would follow the family tradition and become a gemologist, graduating from the prestigious Gemological Institute of America at 21. She has assumed control of the family business with her father retiring and employs a staff of 16. “I don’t get it at trade shows but I do get it a lot in our own showroom. People think nothing of having me show them this or that and they ask me for details but when it comes time to talk price, they often ask me to check with my boss for a ‘bottom line’. I am the boss. There is nobody that will outrank me or give them a better price. It’s demeaning and it does weigh me down some days but I smile and stick to what I do. I sell diamonds. Sometimes, I get one of my male employees to come over and confirm that the deal on the table is the best it will get and that makes me feel like I look weak. I hate having to ask to be validated when I’m the boss. But the sale matters more than my hurt feelings. Hurt feelings don’t pay the rent.” Aviva is a prime example of the dilemma faced by every woman in the industry on a daily basis, including myself. When we encounter this kind of client or this kind of situation, we have a split second to make a decision and neither choice feels very good.

Do we grandstand and hold our ground, pointing out the offending sexism presented to us blatantly? If we do, we are usually seen as ball busting, argumentative and even “snowflakes”, a term we can certainly thank the political machine for inserting into our collective daily jargon. Women who speak up when insulted this way are often assumed to be emotional, irrational and unreasonable. On the other hand, women can opt to say nothing, to ignore the tasteless inquiry or statement and press on, closing the sale or completing the job not in spite of the anger and insult but to spite it, indeed. By choosing this option, the principle behind the issue is ignored and swept under the rug. The deal is closed and the profit is realized. The business will remain in the black and to many, that is the end game. But the cost to women’s confidence and self worth might be much higher than the cost of losing a sale or two, especially when confounded over time.

Both Sheila M, 38 of Michigan and Michelle L, 46 of Oregon recounted nearly identical anecdotes to me. Considering they’ve never met and live 2000 miles apart it lends credence to what didn’t need any to begin with in my eyes. Both women provided me a list of the most common phrases and questions they hear from clients, both male and female, that should be obviously sexist to anyone but apparently aren’t obvious to the people actually saying them. Both Sheila and Michelle are jewelry store owners, bench jewelers and jewelry designers in their own right. They, like me and thousands of others, hear comments like these routinely:

“Is this your dad’s or your husband’s store?”

“You’re so lucky you get to work here. My husband wouldn’t let me near this place.”

“Is the boss around? I’d like to talk to the owner. You? Ok, what days is your husband here?”

“Does your dad/husband make you work here or do you just like it?”

“You know a lot! What is your other job, your real job when you’re not helping here?”

“Oh, you own this place? Smart lady! Wish I’d married a jeweler. Better than marrying a doctor even!”

“I’ll come back when the regular jeweler is here. When does he come in?”

I could go on but the gist is clear and the stories are true. I know firsthand because I live it, too. For a long time I assumed it was just me, that I was somehow inviting this kind of thinking from my clients in my Virginia based store. I beat myself up day after day for not being more forceful, for not being more firm, for not coming across as skilled enough in my own right. I adopted various tactics through the years, trying on different suits of mental and emotional armor, prepared to do battle with weapons like wit, sarcasm, humor and even plain kindness. Admittedly, I depleted my own arsenal in no time flat. I tried ignoring the comments. I tried playing them off as cute, as jokes meant to amuse instead of insult. From time to time I’d simply stop the client and ask them directly why they assume I have a husband or father to thank for the little shop I’ve built from scratch. It’s never gone over well.

Offending male customers usually get tongue tied and defensive and to be fair, often apologetic but they become uneasy and in my own experience, often don’t return. Women clients called out on sexist comments tend to react differently, openly showing disdain over being questioned or corrected and on more than a few occasions even aggressively challenged my statements. To be fair, there have been plenty of clients of any gender that offered a quick apology and went on to admit that hadn’t ever thought it through before and on occasion will even agree that such statements or questions are indeed sexist, sometimes even degrading.

It’s a very difficult path to walk when you’re the woman boss in a male dominated industry. Women jewelers are no exception. I’ve pondered how to combat this issue for along time and I’ve come up with no good answers that could apply to the industry across the board. Instead, I came to the conclusion that it is high time to shed light on the matter as it affects the independent jewelers. Obviously, the class action suit against Sterling making headlines in mainstream news prompted me to act sooner than later so while I was hoping this piece would end with advice on how to handle this issue, the time has come to put it out now, as is. The reason being that it became clear to me that I’m not going to come up with the answers on my own. The problem is industry wide and one that is rarely discussed. Because of this, it’s my hope that this little write up will serve but one purpose and that it to get us all talking about it.

The first step to fixing a problem is to recognize and admit there is one. Now we know. We women in the business have always known. But here it is in the open, for us all to read and absorb. Hopefully, this issue starts getting the attention it deserves. Perhaps we will see the industry embrace the problem instead of reject it or ignore it. Just maybe this is the kind of thing we could see scheduled as panel talks at trade shows or seminars at trade conventions. That would be a massive step in the right direction for us all, men and women and every jeweler. We might see women jewelers band together to start open discussions in their shops, online in trade forums and groups. If nothing else, it would have been worth my time and effort to have opened a few eyes to the problems women in this business are facing on the forefront of the showroom floors.

Indie jewelers and dealers are a tight knit community. Over the course of my own career I’ve come to know people of all walks of life involved in this industry in one way or another and I’m proud to say that more often than not, jewelers look out for each other. They help, advise, counsel, comfort. Though in theory we are all competing with each other, it doesn’t often feel like a cut throat, winner takes all industry. Nearly every independent jeweler and dealer I’ve known or worked with wants to see others succeed. For this I am proud to be in the industry. Those of us on the inside know we often do business the most old fashioned way; that is by the honor code. We often trust each other unconditionally because as it has been for hundreds of years, a jeweler’s word is as good as cash until he or she proves otherwise. Few ever prove otherwise and though there are thousands of us in the industry, it’s never more than six degrees of separation between any of us. I have boundless faith in the people that make up this business. I know that they will continue to be some of the most honest and friendly ‘competitors’ on Earth. It’s because of that I feel this introduction to the sexism on showroom floors will be welcome instead of rebuked. It’s time we admit it’s happening and the it’s high time we talk about it.

[confessionsofwithin-blog]

Dreams or a Past Life? Have you ever had a dream so odd that you didn’t know if it was an actual dream or perhaps a past life? I’ve had the craziest dreams for as long as I can remember, some I wish I could wake myself up from and some I wish I could be asleep a bit longer. But the majority of my dreams are freakishly scary with so much detail that even as I wake up, the dream lingers with me for days, months maybe even years or better yet I can never get it out of my mind. The craziest thing in every freaky dream I’ve had even as I look like someone else I know it’s still me. The eyes when I see myself in the reflection deep inside I know it’s me. The soul is the same but the appearance is different. Two dreams that I can’t get out of mind are the weirdest I’ve encountered in a long time. When I woke up telling the closest people to me what I had just dreamed they gathered and were fascinated by it. But in reality it’s not so fascinated when you’re the one dreaming it and scared shitless. You wake up scared and can’t breathe and for days your scared to sleep at times insomnia is good for days like this but other days it’s a real pain in the butt. Which brings me back to blogging about this. I was told to write down these dreams and write a book about it but I thought I rather share this and perhaps others can relate and I am not alone on this.

The Dream #1: It was about nine pm give or take and I started a graveyard shift at a hospital that looked similar to one in real life out in the open field nothing like a city where its surrounded near other buildings except for one across the street a Walmart. I was walking into the halls to clock in I knew it was going to be a busy night, I couldn’t block out this strange feeling that something terrible was about to happen. At a very young age I always had crazy dreams, high six sense and numerous times of Deja’ vu. “Iza, we need you now!” Yelled the head nurse of the night shift. I ran behind her to room 112, a room in the emergency department almost falling over the amount of blood on the floor. There laying down on the bed was a young girl looked around her late teens early twenties. She had tubes coming out hooked to machines. Her gown was drenched in blood more nurses rushed in in a matter of seconds. I couldn’t move for a few seconds I looked down at my light blue scrubs and my shoes were covered in blood there was blood everywhere. If things couldn’t get any worse the power went out and the generators kicked in. The doctor came in yelling we needed to move her asap to the second floor. While the doctor, head nurse and other staff  was helping to move her I was in the back rushing behind then too and that’s when I saw this tall male figure dressed in black very handsome but scary and I knew something was going to happen before it happen. He pulled the girl ( patient) from the bed with one hand and tore her in half like tearing a sheet of paper split down the middle everyone screamed I couldn’t,  he locked eyes with me for a second and since I was in the back I ran out of the hospital.  I ran and ran across the street to the Walmart through the back door for employees only as I ran I can hear yelling and screaming of the people at the hospital behind me  but I knew he was after me and I knew it wasn’t because I got away. I banged hard at the back door till someone opened it. The power was out too and as I rushed inside I told the emplolyees what happened and we needed to leave if anyone had a car close by. One young  guy sitting at a table that is used to eat on for break got up slowly and handed me his keys and told me to go and he was going to stay behind and made sure everyone would leave safe. I wanted to argue with him and tell him to come also since it was his car. He looked at me and it was so surreal he knew what I was thinking and told me he is after you something about you triggered him and it just got more interesting for him. What? How do you know this? All this young guy said was go he’s on his way over here and he’s moving pretty fast. I ran out of the back room and hit the alarm on the keys in my hand right there close by was a white small SUV I ran and got inside and took off I knew I had to get to my family quick. As I drove away I saw the guy who slaughtered everyone he was changing his appearance. It was so scary and I knew I had to focus and leave. I had my cell phone in my pocket and called my parents I told my mom to get a bag ready something terrible happened at work and we need to get out of here get her and dads passport as well as mine. Don’t ask questions will fill you in. All my mother said was ok. She knew when to trust me. But I could see in my rear mirror he was coming for me his appearance was an older man with a green sweater and kaki pants. As I drove over these little bridges passing a golf course I finally made it to my parents. I left the car running and honked I told my mom we need to go NOW!!! She hurried and started putting the bags inside the suv but my dad on the other hand was taking forever I had to yell at him to hurry and pack light we can worry about that stuff later. I looked to my mom for help and she told my dad to hurry from a distance I could see him get closer. I was so scared I told my dad get in the car!!!! He finally listened and as I was driving out of the driveway I woke up. I sat up so quick and looked around and relized it was a dream.

This had me up for a while and I was scared because as I write this you can only imagine what it looked like in a dream that felt and looked so real and very detailed. I have not figured out a reason for my dreams and I’m sure people will say did you watch something on tv that would make your mind dream this and normally I would agree but this happens a little too often. If it’s not a dream it’s my body freezing up on me and I can’t move. I hear myself yelling but in reality I’m not and I start breathing hard and loud and fast.

[jewelerssecrets-blog]

The Secret Sexism in the Jewelry Industry By Tricia Norling

By now it’s hardly a secret that there is a sexism problem on the corporate level in the jewelry industry. A class action lawsuit filed against Sterling, the parent company of some of America’s most recognizable chain stores like Kay and Jared the Galleria of Jewelry, has brought the issue to the forefront. While that suit undoubtedly has merit and will expose even further the discrimination women in the business face on a daily basis, it won’t ever shed light on the industry as a whole.

Retail chain stores are hardly representative of the jewelry and diamond industry. These corporate outlets in malls and shopping centers around the country make up a small percentage of the business. Sure, they’re the most visible and the most well known because they’re the names you see on tv, the jingles you jokingly sing to anyone who tells you they’re thinking of getting married, usually to their chagrin. They’re the every man’s jewelry store where prefabbed, machine-set pieces bought and made in bulk are proffered for sale to the consumer who wants the convenience of buying something ready to wear and “popular”. It’ll offend plenty of people but I have no problem going on record as saying these corporate chain stores are the WalMart of the jewelry industry. The real jewelers of the world are hidden in plain sight. They’re the small businesses and dealers that repair the rings you drop off to those mall stores for sizing and they are the ones supply those same mall stores’ corporation’s buyers with everything from diamonds to metalsmithing tools to display elements. These jewelers are the real deal, most of them having apprenticed and studied for years (10 year minimum just for diamond cutters), they hold prestigious credentials and spend lifetimes completing formal continuous education for everything from identifying gems, grading diamonds to stringing pearls.

Indie dealers and jewelers don’t have much in common with the big corporate conglomerates. While your local mom and pop jewelry store might have retail cases filled with brilliant, tantalizing baubles just like the chain shops, they are a different animal completely. That is, except for one insurmountable detail: sexism.

In the interest of transparency I should disclose that I am in fact an independent jeweler. I have been in the industry for nearly 20 years. I am obviously going to be a bit biased but I need not be. The issue is hardly mine alone. In fact, it’s fair to say that over the last year I’ve been communicating with upwards of 100 other female jewelers from around the United States. We range in age from early 20s to to 72 and we run the whole gamut of industry positions. We are gemologists, designers, gem cutters, diamond cutters, store owners, bench jewelers, shop managers, silversmiths, diamond wholesalers and more. We might have varying job titles but we share at least one thing in common in that nearly all the women who contacted me face blatant sexism routinely, shockingly, sometimes daily. There’s a really surprising aspect that kept creeping up, one that none of us truly realized was a common truth: the sexism we deal with doesn’t stem only from men in the industry. It’s our customers that dish out the biggest doses of ignorance and offense. What makes it worse is that it’s widely accepted as “part of being a girl in a boy’s club industry”, according to Stephanie P., 36, a gemologist and repair shop owner in Sarasota, Florida.

Stephanie admitted she gave up correcting sexist remarks or offensive commentary from her clients long ago. In her own words, “It feels like a no-win battle and an emotional expense. I used to get so upset over winks or getting called sweetie but now I just let it slide. I’m too busy trying to prove myself through my work to argue with words.” Unfortunately, Stephanie isn’t alone. More than a few women jewelers were eager to explain how they’ve risen above challenging the sexism they encounter daily. Though this might be a noble approach in theory, it’s not helping anyone to quietly ignore the insults veiled as questions and back handed flattery. I’ve experienced these myself from the beginning and still do on a routine basis. Not one week goes by in which I am not asked to consult “my boss” for a second opinion. Usually, the offending client is referencing a male in my shop in my employ. It is hardly a big leap to deduce that by inferring a man would or could give a better, more reliable answer to whatever query is at hand I am clearly being disregarded as less experiened, less trustworthy or less able than a nearby man.

I am hardly alone.

Across the board, my own unofficial but unrelenting research into this issue has shed light on a slew of comments and questions women in the industry hear routinely. These off color remarks are so alike and so repetitive from coast to coast it’s almost hard to believe they aren’t coordinated. Alas, they are not. In fact, most of the women I’ve talked to about this issue don’t know each other and have not been privy to the anecdotes I’ve collected. Unbeknownst to them, they were telling me the same story over and over as if they were reading from a script written seemingly in 1952 when June Cleaver was the model of the ideal American woman.

Casey, a 20something jeweler, store manager and graduate gemologist is often met with dismissive comments like, “Isn’t that cute that your dad lets you work here. I bet you get to wear the best stuff.” or “Is the real jeweler here?” even after introducing herself as the shop’s manager and jeweler. She shrugs such things off as nothing more than an annoyance, focused more on the tasks on hand than the social slights littering their interactions. Casey doesn’t often stop to address such comments. Like many other female jewelers, she is caught between a rock and a hard place. Pointing out the offense immediately and correcting the misguided commentary risks making the client feel stupid or awkward, possibly resulting in a lost transaction.

“It’s like walking a tightrope when I have to make an on-the-spot decision to stand my ground.” says Aviva K, 48, a diamond wholesaler and dealer based in New York. Aviva was born into a long line of diamond cutters and dealers. She knew in her teens she would follow the family tradition and become a gemologist, graduating from the prestigious Gemological Institute of America at 21. She has assumed control of the family business with her father retiring and employs a staff of 16. “I don’t get it at trade shows but I do get it a lot in our own showroom. People think nothing of having me show them this or that and they ask me for details but when it comes time to talk price, they often ask me to check with my boss for a ‘bottom line’. I am the boss. There is nobody that will outrank me or give them a better price. It’s demeaning and it does weigh me down some days but I smile and stick to what I do. I sell diamonds. Sometimes, I get one of my male employees to come over and confirm that the deal on the table is the best it will get and that makes me feel like I look weak. I hate having to ask to be validated when I’m the boss. But the sale matters more than my hurt feelings. Hurt feelings don’t pay the rent.” Aviva is a prime example of the dilemma faced by every woman in the industry on a daily basis, including myself. When we encounter this kind of client or this kind of situation, we have a split second to make a decision and neither choice feels very good.

Do we grandstand and hold our ground, pointing out the offending sexism presented to us blatantly? If we do, we are usually seen as ball busting, argumentative and even “snowflakes”, a term we can certainly thank the political machine for inserting into our collective daily jargon. Women who speak up when insulted this way are often assumed to be emotional, irrational and unreasonable. On the other hand, women can opt to say nothing, to ignore the tasteless inquiry or statement and press on, closing the sale or completing the job not in spite of the anger and insult but to spite it, indeed. By choosing this option, the principle behind the issue is ignored and swept under the rug. The deal is closed and the profit is realized. The business will remain in the black and to many, that is the end game. But the cost to women’s confidence and self worth might be much higher than the cost of losing a sale or two, especially when confounded over time.

Both Sheila M, 38 of Michigan and Michelle L, 46 of Oregon recounted nearly identical anecdotes to me. Considering they’ve never met and live 2000 miles apart it lends credence to what didn’t need any to begin with in my eyes. Both women provided me a list of the most common phrases and questions they hear from clients, both male and female, that should be obviously sexist to anyone but apparently aren’t obvious to the people actually saying them. Both Sheila and Michelle are jewelry store owners, bench jewelers and jewelry designers in their own right. They, like me and thousands of others, hear comments like these routinely:

“Is this your dad’s or your husband’s store?”

“You’re so lucky you get to work here. My husband wouldn’t let me near this place.”

“Is the boss around? I’d like to talk to the owner. You? Ok, what days is your husband here?”

“Does your dad/husband make you work here or do you just like it?”

“You know a lot! What is your other job, your real job when you’re not helping here?”

“Oh, you own this place? Smart lady! Wish I’d married a jeweler. Better than marrying a doctor even!”

“I’ll come back when the regular jeweler is here. When does he come in?”

I could go on but the gist is clear and the stories are true. I know firsthand because I live it, too. For a long time I assumed it was just me, that I was somehow inviting this kind of thinking from my clients in my Virginia based store. I beat myself up day after day for not being more forceful, for not being more firm, for not coming across as skilled enough in my own right. I adopted various tactics through the years, trying on different suits of mental and emotional armor, prepared to do battle with weapons like wit, sarcasm, humor and even plain kindness. Admittedly, I depleted my own arsenal in no time flat. I tried ignoring the comments. I tried playing them off as cute, as jokes meant to amuse instead of insult. From time to time I’d simply stop the client and ask them directly why they assume I have a husband or father to thank for the little shop I’ve built from scratch. It’s never gone over well.

Offending male customers usually get tongue tied and defensive and to be fair, often apologetic but they become uneasy and in my own experience, often don’t return. Women clients called out on sexist comments tend to react differently, openly showing disdain over being questioned or corrected and on more than a few occasions even aggressively challenged my statements. To be fair, there have been plenty of clients of any gender that offered a quick apology and went on to admit that hadn’t ever thought it through before and on occasion will even agree that such statements or questions are indeed sexist, sometimes even degrading.

It’s a very difficult path to walk when you’re the woman boss in a male dominated industry. Women jewelers are no exception. I’ve pondered how to combat this issue for along time and I’ve come up with no good answers that could apply to the industry across the board. Instead, I came to the conclusion that it is high time to shed light on the matter as it affects the independent jewelers. Obviously, the class action suit against Sterling making headlines in mainstream news prompted me to act sooner than later so while I was hoping this piece would end with advice on how to handle this issue, the time has come to put it out now, as is. The reason being that it became clear to me that I’m not going to come up with the answers on my own. The problem is industry wide and one that is rarely discussed. Because of this, it’s my hope that this little write up will serve but one purpose and that it to get us all talking about it.

The first step to fixing a problem is to recognize and admit there is one. Now we know. We women in the business have always known. But here it is in the open, for us all to read and absorb. Hopefully, this issue starts getting the attention it deserves. Perhaps we will see the industry embrace the problem instead of reject it or ignore it. Just maybe this is the kind of thing we could see scheduled as panel talks at trade shows or seminars at trade conventions. That would be a massive step in the right direction for us all, men and women and every jeweler. We might see women jewelers band together to start open discussions in their shops, online in trade forums and groups. If nothing else, it would have been worth my time and effort to have opened a few eyes to the problems women in this business are facing on the forefront of the showroom floors.

Indie jewelers and dealers are a tight knit community. Over the course of my own career I’ve come to know people of all walks of life involved in this industry in one way or another and I’m proud to say that more often than not, jewelers look out for each other. They help, advise, counsel, comfort. Though in theory we are all competing with each other, it doesn’t often feel like a cut throat, winner takes all industry. Nearly every independent jeweler and dealer I’ve known or worked with wants to see others succeed. For this I am proud to be in the industry. Those of us on the inside know we often do business the most old fashioned way; that is by the honor code. We often trust each other unconditionally because as it has been for hundreds of years, a jeweler’s word is as good as cash until he or she proves otherwise. Few ever prove otherwise and though there are thousands of us in the industry, it’s never more than six degrees of separation between any of us. I have boundless faith in the people that make up this business. I know that they will continue to be some of the most honest and friendly ‘competitors’ on Earth. It’s because of that I feel this introduction to the sexism on showroom floors will be welcome instead of rebuked. It’s time we admit it’s happening and the it’s high time we talk about it.