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I can’t even explain the horror of writing this post. They say confession is good for the soul … all I ask is you read through to the end before laughing hysterically. Basically, a funny thing happened on the way home from the cake place …
After having our initial meeting at Lille a month ago, we forgot to actually place the order for the cake, and then they forgot what wanted when we called back 3 weeks after we were supposed to. So, today we had to shlep all the way back to Herndon, see “the guy”, redraw the cake and fork over a deposit.
On the way back from “Cake, part 2: The Revenge of Fondant”, we realized that we had no idea what our ring-finger sizes were, and that the ignorance of such things was going to make wedding ring shopping online … well … suboptimal. Thusly, we decided to “swing by” one of the malls in Tyson’s Corner, pretend to be interested in buying our rings, get our fingers sized, and rush home to buy the rings online.
Unfortunately for the mall theory, there was a bit of a traffic jam on Route 7 (the main road in to Tysons) and it just grinded to a halt after a while … directly in front of a Jared: the Galleria of Jewelry.
With our souls already crushed by the traffic, we figured going into the store responsible for the most soul-sucking television commercials in nigh-on-a-decade (“He went to Jared!”) couldn’t kill what was already dead. Besides, if we want to bring down the evil empire, what better way to do so then by bring false hope to their sales associates and making them waste time sizing the fingers of future Blue Nile customers.
Sadly, a very nice sales associate named Danielle helped us try on various rings. Even more sadly, they actually fit and looked rather nice. Even MORE sadly, they were reasonably priced, and The Lady Sparkler found the ring of her dreams.
Wanting to save the last shred of my dignity, we took down the ring information and *promised* to come back to consummate the deal. I may not be able to stop the flood, but at least I can delay it a bit.
UPDATE: When we went back the following weekend to actually place the order for the rings, our little helper Danielle was abjectly shocked to see us. I asked why she was so surprised, and she said that it was very rare for people to come back after being sized, and even more rare for a couple to ask for the person that helped them the first time. I handed her a credit card, completed the transaction and guiltily skulked away. I have become that which I had feared most…
p.s. The first person who sees me walk by and says “He went to Jared!” will get slugged. Pow. Right in the kisser. (“To the moon, Alice. To the moon!”)