In Philadelphia with Eve over the weekend, we made a toe-ring-and-water-ice run to South Street. While there, we spotted a big storefront with dozens of stained glass panels, suncatchers, and windchimes hanging over the sidewalk, sparkling with rainwater and making a bright spot in the dreary day. The store was called Tiffany City Lighting and, of course, we popped in for a look around.

The visit began nicely, with an older woman (the owner?) presenting us each with a fresh red rose at the door, telling us that they were celebrating twenty-four years in their location. Things went downhill from there. The woman told us about their anniversary sale specials, and as the three of us stood there chatting, Eve told the woman, "My friend here does stained glass!"

Can I really be said to "do" stained glass if I haven't so much as touched a glass cutter since the first of June? Feeling sort of like a poser, I instantly demurred. "Oh, just a little bit, you know, small things..." I needn't have bothered with the modesty, as it turns out I was about to be put in my place whether I appeared to already know it or not.

A gentleman (to stretch the term well beyond its intended limits) standing near us at the front of the shop, seemingly an employee due to the fact that he appeared to be repairing a hanging glass lamp, spoke to us over his shoulder. "Can I tell you something?"

Eve and I looked at each other and shrugged. "Um, sure."

The "gentleman" didn't even turn around. "BIG DEAL," he sneered.

Silence on all sides, as at least two of the individuals present tried to figure out what the hell that was all about. I think one of us said, "Hokay," and off we went to look at the store, figuring that would be more pleasant than being harrassed by its employees.

There were nice things there, some elaborate lamps in shapes I'd never seen before, some handsome leaded panels. But the lady with the roses was wasting her time when she followed us around the store pointing out everything that was on sale. After the completely needless insult thrown at us five minutes after we walked into the store, those people couldn't have paid me to walk out of there with one of their lamps.

I was more than happy to take my red rose with me when I left, however.

Posted by Michelle on August 19, 2003 12:58 PM