You know when you walk into an unfamiliar store and you know nothing about the products that are sold there? You have to rely on the salespeople and hope to hell they a) know what they're talking about and b) are telling you the truth. I had that experience today.
My parents bought me a ring for graduating. I think the ring covers both degrees because my sister didn't get one. Nanipoo! I'm not really the kind of girl who's into jewellery. I fidget a lot. I like keeping my hands busy. It helps me focus. When I wear jewellery, I tend to play with it and become distracted, or I take it off and then I worry about losing it. But I suppose that's just another way of being distracted. Anyway, parents bought me a ring. It's very pretty and I do want to wear it. I'm hoping that once I get used to it, I won't play with it.
Alas, as is the case with my feet, my fingers are also apparently enormous. They look normal to me! I guess I should take it as a sign that I'm proportionate. There was no way the ring my parents bought was going to fit on my fingers... any of them. Off to the jeweller to get it sized and adjusted. I had no idea how this sizing and adjusting business was done. Neither did my mom who actually wears rings.
The saleswoman pulled out a keyring of ring sizes. We first had to know how big my big-ass fingers are. As it turns out, my ring size is about the same as my shoe size. I'll admit, I wanted to make a terribly inappropriate sex joke, but refrained. Go me! So, my left ring finger is a size twelve. The saleswoman looked at the tiny, dainty ring I'd presented her with and announced: "We're going to have to special order that. There's no way we can enlarge it without destroying it". Yeah, kinda saw that coming. On the upside, it doesn't cost extra.
I then presented her with a ring I'd been given several years earlier. I never got into the habit of wearing it. As it turns out, there's a good reason. It's too small. The woman is looking at it with her little magnifying glass-monocle thing, and says: "I'm just checking out the gold". I was confused by that statement. I replied that my ring was silver. She laughed a bit and looked far less mystified. She informed me that the best course of action would be to reduce its size so that I could wear it on my pinky where it was only a bit too big. Of course, that brought about a new set of problems. She picked up her monocle-magnifying glass again and announced that the stones might be a problem. Again I was confused. I told her there weren't stones on my ring. She looked again and discovered that the little design she was seeing was just engraved along the band. Finally, she was typing away on the computer, putting in my order and my measurements. My pinky is size 8 1/2 if you were curious. By then she was rambling on about silver plating because of the odd colour of the ring. For the third time, I was confused. It's not plated with anything. I'm pretty sure it's just tarnished. I let her go on anyway as it didn't affect the price or my order. I think the jeweller actually doing the work will figure it out. Hopefully.
So, you know when you walk into an unfamiliar store and you know nothing about the products that are sold there? It really doesn't inspire confidence when you appear to know more than the person working there. And it was a reputable jewellers. I was not in some scary back alleyway where people were melting down jewels and such off to the side.
When we left the store I was chuckling on the inside about the whole encounter. I was chuckling on the outside because I was distracted by a stall that appeared to be selling t-shirts and was named Unic. I think it might be pronounced Unique. Seriously, when I see that, I pronounce it eunuch. But according to Wikipedia, Unic was also a French car manufacturer in the early 1900s. What either of those has to do with t-shirts, I am unsure.
All in all, a very amusing trip to the mall.
Lauren.
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