Why I'm Anti-Valentine's Day...

There are several reasons why I think Valentine's Day is a load of huey, and it has nothing to do with how much I love my hubby and appreciate him, because as anyone who knows me knows, that is a given--a big one. I hate that it is a manufactured holiday that is basically created by greeting card companies and other “romantic” retail producers that tell you that you are supposed to appreciate your significant other on a certain day of the year. It’s bullshit. If you’re with someone, then you should appreciate them all year long, not just on days that you’re “supposed” to. But let me back up and give you some background about my venom towards this so-called “holiday.”

From around 14 years old through college graduation (I graduated at 22--I was in college for 5 years instead of 4 because I transferred from SUNY--New Paltz to Brooklyn College and got royally screwed in the process) I worked as a floral designer. I first started this "mini-career" under my father’s tutelage (I call it a mini-career because I was quite good at it and it lasted for a number of years, and helped fund my education and everything else that I did through college, including my Euro-trip with Jenn. Believe it or not, I actually took 2nd place in the table arrangement, non-centerpiece, category at the New York Orchid Show when I was 20 years old--the youngest person to ever place). Anyone who knows my father or has heard me speak of him knows that this situation could not possibly be a good thing—and it wasn’t. He was the most obnoxious boss I’ve ever had—and I’ve had some doozies let me tell you. My father is the biggest perfectionist that I’ve ever met—he exceeds my anal-retentive nature a thousand fold. He’s also verbally abusive. I worked with him until I went away to college my first year, and helped out over the winter break. I was ordered down from college two days before Valentine’s day to help out in our family shop—in spite of the fact that I missed classes and a quiz by doing so.

But I’m getting away from the topic. Valentine’s day is the biggest holiday of the year for florists—it exceeds Mother’s Day (the 2nd biggest) and Christmas by more than half in terms of profit. Many shops base their yearly intake on how well they do on Valentine’s Day. Some shops (like my family’s) took in more than half the year’s profits on the days leading up to, and the actual day. That is an enormous amount of pressure to be working under. Things like the weather (try delivering flowers in the snow or getting a delivery of flowers from a wholesaler in the snow—these things are perishable please remember), traffic, and even the day of the week (more flowers are bought during the week than on weekends—a Sunday Valentine’s day is the kiss of death for a year’s profits for many florists—especially those that do a big walk-in clientele) have a huge impact on the shop’s business.

Most shops spend the weeks up until Valentine’s Day preparing—this involves prepping the various containers, making bows, assembling boxes (both gift boxes and delivery boxes), selecting stock, placing orders for secondary items (like balloons, stuffed animals, and all those other do-dads), taking orders, decorating the shop, and promoting any specials that are running in local newspapers or newsletters. The week before the dreaded event, your hands begin to hate you—you see, each individual rose must be de-thorned. If you were taught by an old school florist like I was, this means wet cold hands using a very sharp Swiss Army Knife to take the thorns off each stem. On average, I’d personally clean over 2,000 roses—and I was a designer, so that wasn’t my main focus. Your hands would hurt, they’d often bleed, you’d get infections from the cuts sustained not healing properly because you’re hands would be immersed in water—and there was nothing to be done about it because you’d have to keep a quick pace and do all the rose cleaning right before the holiday. Roses only stay alive for so long—and no decent florist is going to sell old roses on Valentine’s Day. The day before and day of are a horror show—you’d start Feb 13th at 6 in the morning, and if you managed to go home at all (I worked straight through the night on several V-days) you’d sleep a total of 2 or 3 hours. The shop won’t close until the last rose was sold—and at a few shops, that meant that the shop didn’t close until after 10 at night. The pace was insane. By the time I finished my last arrangement, I’d be so tired I could barely stand up. And god help you if you had a psycho bridezilla on Valentine’s day. I’ve had a few and God, how I hated those women. It’s a double-edged sword—you can’t say no to charging double or triple what you would normally charge for bridal bouquets and arrangements—but will you be able to get enough help to actually pull it off? There were actually a few funerals that happened on Valentine’s Day—and that is even worse than a Valentine’s day wedding because there is no way to prepare for a funeral. You’ve simply got to make whatever the family and loved ones want at that time. How are you supposed to know when someone is going to die? You can’t prepare for it—it’s just not possible.

It’s a grueling business. People have often asked me why I decided not to pursue it as my career. Every once in a while I think about it—I love making beautiful things with my hands, interacting with brides (when they’re sane of course), and the sense of accomplishment I’d feel after making something especially beautiful—but then I think of Valentine’s Day, the most dreaded and loved day of the year for any florist, and I remind myself that I’ve already got arthritis thanks to my first career and I’d better quit while I’m ahead.

Needless to say, all of these things have made Valentine’s Day far less sweet to me than to other women. I’d much rather be treated well all year long because Brad feels like doing it, than having him go nuts on that one certain day because Hallmark says so. We go along with it, go to dinner, do something nice for one another, get little presents—but it’s not the most important day in the world to me by any stretch of the imagination. And Brad knows better than to buy me roses on Valentine’s Day...