A Funny Thing Happened at the Shop Today

Apparently, my daughter Lindsay acquired a bad case of writer’s block that may have been caused as a result of the busy 2025 season being over and now replaced by the dog days of summer? Over the years many of my loyal readers and customers have found many of my true life stories a little hard to believe. My answer to the doubting Thomas’s out there would be to come in, take a chair, and within an hour or so, you will see the comings and goings and experience what dramas are forced upon us in an average day in our humble little island jewelry store. You will soon understand how we never run out of fresh material to write about human nature when you have a door that has been open to the public since 1994.

Here are some examples of my most memorable experiences.

Case of the Bell-Ringing Wine Drinking Hippie

It started on a beautiful, nondescript August morning when I was working at my bench, and the peace was broken by a loud commotion going on in the front showroom. My mom ran in the back workshop and begged me to come out front and handle a problem customer. What appeared in front of me was a wild-eyed woman screaming obscenities and ringing what appeared to be a Waterford crystal handbell. She was barefoot and dressed in a soiled white peasant dress with hurricane-blown blonde hair. A sight out of a Stephen King movie! No amount of consoling would calm her down for me to ask her the simple question on everyone’s mind… WHY ARE YOU HERE, AND WHAT DO YOU WANT? She ranted on about gibberish, and then told me several names, saying I better have her great aunt’s ring that was left with me a decade ago, or some nonsense. She then slapped down her driver’s license on the showcase and said I better have the ring when she comes back. Before she returned less than ten minutes later, she first perched herself on the hood of her idling convertible that was parked directly out front, with headlights on and the windshield wipers flapping wildly (it was a sunny day, remember). Better yet, she was sitting comfortably cross-legged, calmly sipping a glass of white wine…WTH! I was in no mood for round two with this “Island Princess” and called Marco’s finest in blue informing them I have a woman out front of my shop who is obviously off her med’s, or off her rocker, and I’m not exactly relishing the thought of her re-entering my place of business.

I found out this was not the madam’s first performance of the day. Luckily, the police swooped in minutes later and came to the same conclusion about her that I had and eventually whisked her away before she hurt somebody, herself, or trashed my shop. This woman was actually driving a car!

This by far has to be the weirdest store experience ever that required a police escort.

A Fire Breathing Bridezilla* vs The Mad Goldsmith

I have dealt with many Bridezillas in my half a century in this business before it became an epidemic. The most memorable nightmare happened here on the island. She was referred to me by a current customer (gee, thanks!) and from the very get go we did not see eye to eye.

She educated herself from the internet, so that means she knew all about everything about diamond wedding bands. All she knew was what she didn’t want, but not what she wanted. It took hours, days, and weeks, and eventually months for her to commit to a finished design; meanwhile, the wedding date was creeping dangerously close. When I thought she finally made a decision, she would call me hours later, saying she changed her mind and had me go back to zero again! I found myself “plowing the same field” over and over. She changed the wedding band design on the “poor slob” soon-to-be husband at least a dozen times. It was now a week before the wedding, and to tell you the truth, I was so frazzled by her antics that I really had no idea what style cockamamie wedding rings I was making for them. I heard nothing from her for two weeks until she called the day before the wedding…Are my rings ready? I asked her, “What rings? You never agreed on any design we discussed and changed your mind on the wedding band design for that soon-to-be most miserable husband on this planet, plus you refused to leave a deposit for me to start working on your cannot-make-up-your-mind-supposedly-finished-imaginary-wedding-bands!”

The tirade spewing from that phone to my ears would have embarrassed a veteran truck driver. I told her you still have twenty-four hours to find someone to make you custom-made wedding bands, you should go to… Jared’s.

*I was told by the person who advised her to seek my services, who had attended the wedding, that Bridezilla had a complete meltdown over some minor mishaps during the wedding ceremony and made a complete fool of herself, and as I predicted, the couple was divorced after only three months of wedded bliss.

An Overly Paranoid Lady

Another quiet summer morning disrupted, I could not help but hear from my workbench a female customer asking my mother a million and one questions about her diamond ring, and how she wanted the jeweler (namely me) to examine it while it was on her finger. Mom could not help but notice it was a bit gritty (to say the least!) and mentioned to her that it would have to be cleaned before being properly examined. Of course, the women stuck her ring finger in her mouth to wet it so she could remove it easily (just in case the filthy ring wasn’t gross enough!) and placed it on the felt pad. Mom delicately and deliberately picked up the ring with plastic tongs and began walking toward our cleaning station to clean her soiled ring in plain view.

What happened next was an epic explosive eruption! “Where are you going with my ring?” She then tried to physically vault over the counter! My mother was stunned by her sudden, erratic behavior. “My husband told me to never let that diamond leave my sight!” I kid you not, this woman nearly had a coronary; she turned red in the face, broke out in a sweat, and nearly collapsed on the floor. The precious and emotional ring was returned to her, and after a glass of water, she finally regained her composure. Mom then kindly suggested she go elsewhere to have her ring cleaned and inspected. It has been my experience that people who react in this paranoid way generally have the worst quality diamonds in the world. Go figure?

I have begun compiling my mad goldsmith memoirs. I’m sure I could fill another 200 pages with my retail experience. Wait… Is that a crystal handbell I hear?