get to my job again.
“Since there’s never been enough supply for this stone to go fully commercial”—my voice is still embarrassingly breathy—“I’m sure most of you are wondering what it is.”
Miss Mona makes like a traffic cop. I humor her and stop to create dramatic effect. Something clatters to my right, but I refuse to let Max distract me any more than he already has. “You may be surprised to learn that this intense, yummy color belongs to a . . . garnet!”
For some inexplicable reason all his own, Max finds my statement hilarious. I shoot him what I hope is a stern glare. But before I can gather my wits and go on with my presentation, he oh-so-generously shares the reason for his humor.
“Everyone knows garnets are red,” he says. “Come on, tell us. What is it? For real.”
A gemstone host who doesn’t know garnets? I’m so in trouble.
“You’re such a kidder,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m not kidding. You are. Garnets are red.”
“Not just red.”
“Red.”
“And green and orange and yellow and purple—even color-change, like alexandrite. They come in every color but blue.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Red.”
What am I doing? My job’s to sell gems, not to argue with a dud. A hunk of a dud, but a dud to the—oh yeah—max.
Get with the program, Andie. “Max’s response shows the common misconception about garnets. I can guarantee that this gorgeous jewel is a garnet, a spessartite garnet. The difference between this one and an almondine—that’s the red kind—is the absence of iron and presence of manganese in the chemical composition. Iron turns the material red, or worse, brown.”
“Huh?”
Did I say we’re doomed? No? Well, I’ll say it now: We’re doomed.
I turn my face so the viewers don’t think I’m totally rude, but I stare at the way-less-distracting stone. “That small difference, Max, makes the manganese-colored stones rare— and pricey.” Back to the camera. “But our wonderful vendors have negotiated for us an incredible price. And when we get a good deal, we give you a great deal. This internally clean, two-carat stone is priced at only four hundred and seventy-five—”
“ That little thing?” Max roars. “Four hundred bucks?”
If I had a weapon, and if I was the violent kind, and if I wasn’t a Christian . . . well, you get the idea. I consider ducking under the desk. But I’m not that big a coward.
Yet.
“I think we can safely assume that Max has no experience with gems. A fine spessartite garnet like this”—I turn the tweezers to better show off the stone—“internally clean and beautifully cut, can go for up to twelve hundred dollars per carat. And this one is two full carats. Quite a bargain—for a mandarin orange garnet.”
“That’s insane!”
“That’s an investment.”
He snorts. “An investment’s stock in that . . . that Jimmy Buffet—no, not Jimmy, Warren —that Warren Buffet guy’s investment company.”
I ignore his blather. “Ladies and gentlemen, I can report that statistics show gemstone collecting as the fastest growing hobby in our country, and as an up-and-coming favorite investment too. So at only four hundred seventy-five dollars? How can you pass up such a great deal?”
Max wriggles in his chair. Out the corner of my eye, I see a flash of silver. Good. He’s picked up the tweezers that hold the gemstone I’m scheduled to feature after the garnets on this nightmare of a launch show. Maybe he’ll learn to use them and do something constructive.
“Here.” I angle my hand in front of the white velvet drape, then hold the tweezers so the garnet lines up with my ring finger. “See how fabulous the mandarin orange garnet looks on the hand? It’s so gorgeous that many women are choosing colored stones like this one for engagement and wedding rings. Now what girl wouldn’t want to wear a beautiful bit of captured, fiery sunshine on her
“Since there’s never been enough supply for this stone to go fully commercial”—my voice is still embarrassingly breathy—“I’m sure most of you are wondering what it is.”
Miss Mona makes like a traffic cop. I humor her and stop to create dramatic effect. Something clatters to my right, but I refuse to let Max distract me any more than he already has. “You may be surprised to learn that this intense, yummy color belongs to a . . . garnet!”
For some inexplicable reason all his own, Max finds my statement hilarious. I shoot him what I hope is a stern glare. But before I can gather my wits and go on with my presentation, he oh-so-generously shares the reason for his humor.
“Everyone knows garnets are red,” he says. “Come on, tell us. What is it? For real.”
A gemstone host who doesn’t know garnets? I’m so in trouble.
“You’re such a kidder,” I say through gritted teeth.
“I’m not kidding. You are. Garnets are red.”
“Not just red.”
“Red.”
“And green and orange and yellow and purple—even color-change, like alexandrite. They come in every color but blue.”
“No, they don’t.”
“Yes, they do.”
“Red.”
What am I doing? My job’s to sell gems, not to argue with a dud. A hunk of a dud, but a dud to the—oh yeah—max.
Get with the program, Andie. “Max’s response shows the common misconception about garnets. I can guarantee that this gorgeous jewel is a garnet, a spessartite garnet. The difference between this one and an almondine—that’s the red kind—is the absence of iron and presence of manganese in the chemical composition. Iron turns the material red, or worse, brown.”
“Huh?”
Did I say we’re doomed? No? Well, I’ll say it now: We’re doomed.
I turn my face so the viewers don’t think I’m totally rude, but I stare at the way-less-distracting stone. “That small difference, Max, makes the manganese-colored stones rare— and pricey.” Back to the camera. “But our wonderful vendors have negotiated for us an incredible price. And when we get a good deal, we give you a great deal. This internally clean, two-carat stone is priced at only four hundred and seventy-five—”
“ That little thing?” Max roars. “Four hundred bucks?”
If I had a weapon, and if I was the violent kind, and if I wasn’t a Christian . . . well, you get the idea. I consider ducking under the desk. But I’m not that big a coward.
Yet.
“I think we can safely assume that Max has no experience with gems. A fine spessartite garnet like this”—I turn the tweezers to better show off the stone—“internally clean and beautifully cut, can go for up to twelve hundred dollars per carat. And this one is two full carats. Quite a bargain—for a mandarin orange garnet.”
“That’s insane!”
“That’s an investment.”
He snorts. “An investment’s stock in that . . . that Jimmy Buffet—no, not Jimmy, Warren —that Warren Buffet guy’s investment company.”
I ignore his blather. “Ladies and gentlemen, I can report that statistics show gemstone collecting as the fastest growing hobby in our country, and as an up-and-coming favorite investment too. So at only four hundred seventy-five dollars? How can you pass up such a great deal?”
Max wriggles in his chair. Out the corner of my eye, I see a flash of silver. Good. He’s picked up the tweezers that hold the gemstone I’m scheduled to feature after the garnets on this nightmare of a launch show. Maybe he’ll learn to use them and do something constructive.
“Here.” I angle my hand in front of the white velvet drape, then hold the tweezers so the garnet lines up with my ring finger. “See how fabulous the mandarin orange garnet looks on the hand? It’s so gorgeous that many women are choosing colored stones like this one for engagement and wedding rings. Now what girl wouldn’t want to wear a beautiful bit of captured, fiery sunshine on her
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