Yellow roses for Julia S.- update!
Written: Nov 07 '01 (Updated Nov 08 '01)
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The Bottom Line
If you are willing to do additional work, this site can be a good "assistant" for handling a floral delivery.
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| Full Review |
Love is a language, and flowers speak it well. This is my experience with FTD.com.
I was making dinner for my partner at his place last week when he came back from work. The little foyer in his apartment is usually where I’ll greet him on these occasions, and I love inhaling his warm, clean smell, feeling his good kind heart thrumming away, and listening for his growly little chuckle, which has a strange and powerful aphrodisiac effect on me. Footnote – 1
Unfortunately, this time I just got a sigh – no growly “heh-heh-heh”. I asked what happened, and I got the eye-watering story of Julia S.
Jack was working in Central Park. As a policeman, he observes people’s everyday difficulties and does what he can to help. So it was no big deal when he stopped to assist a nice lady of a certain age who was having a hard time moving from a seated position on a bench to a standing one. She insisted that she “didn’t need any help”, but her size was complicating things. Jack gave her a boost, and seeing she was unsteady on her feet, volunteered to assist her to either a taxi or her door. She lives on Central Park West – literally about 1/10th of a mile from where she was sitting, so she agreed to let him to walk her home. Their chat during the walk yielded up the following information:
1. Her name was Julia S., and she lived alone. She was quite a looker, back in the day. By Jack’s best guess, that day was late in the Eisenhower administration.
2. She had been a debutante, back then. Her parents gave her a party at The Plaza Hotel, and she wore a white dress and danced all night. After attending Vassar, she married her escort, Adam, who looked a lot like Jack.
3. Adam was killed in the Vietnam War. They had only been married 8 years. She missed him terribly.
4. They’d had a son, Peter, who grew up to be a nice advertising executive like his father. Walking her home was just the kind of thing that Peter would have done for a stranger.
5. Peter was shot and killed by a crack addict in 1989. She missed him terribly, too. She was glad Jack had walked her home, and hoped she would see him again in the Park.
The doorman at her building helped her up the steps.
Jack had stopped eating his salad and was looking out the window, which meant he was really upset. I covered dinner and logged on to FTD.com.
“Where did you say that address was?”, I asked.
From his frighteningly accurate cop memory bank, he produced it, right down to the postal code.
“What are you doing?”, he asked. Well, at the moment, I was wiping my eyes, which he could plainly see. I hate when work gets to him like that. But I was also sending a little day-brightener to Julia S. of Central Park West.
FTD stands for “Florists TransWorld Delivery”, and their winged Mercury icon is well known throughout the world. The way it works is this: you place your order from a catalog or the pictures on the site. That order is then sent to the closest FTD affiliate to the delivery address, where it is then prepared (hopefully) to FTD’s high and exacting standards, and shipped quickly to the recipient. The catch is this – the quality of the gift is going to depend on the quality of the florist that is local to the recipient. You may have no way of knowing whether your selection is the freshest or nicest that the florist has on hand. To clarify – that florist may have orchids that are fresh, but roses that are a bit past their prime. If you order roses, he has to send the roses. I was okay with taking this chance, since Central Park West is a rather ritzy part of town, and a second rate florist would be out of business very quickly there. Plus, I planned to do additional homework by calling the florist directly. If his roses were not the best, I could tell him to get some from his local market, or change the order to suit me.
The site could not be easier to navigate. A drop-down toolbar on the left has suggested arrangements for various occasions – congratulations, birthdays, romance, holidays, sympathy – you name it, it’s there. There is also a search engine, so that if you know that the intended recipient likes a given type of flower, you can find it. I decided on roses. Red was out – as nice as they are, there is always a romantic connotation, and this wasn’t “Harold and Maude”. I’m kind of partial to white roses, since I think they are on the short list of God’s best creations, along with sunsets and virtuous men and women. But this wasn’t about me. I wanted this to be something she would like.
Now, my memory bank is a lot more like Martha Stewart’s than a cop’s, which I think makes me even more frightening. From it, I extracted the knowledge that the Victorians considered yellow roses a gesture of friendship, loyalty, and great respect. Julia’s age and background were pretty good indicators that she would understand the message being sent with them. If this interests you, there are books on the subject. Typing “the language of flowers” into a search engine will get you started.
I chose the “Standard” arrangement – a dozen. “Deluxe” was also available, as was “Premium”. This option is available for almost all arrangements. Upgrading is of dubious worth, in my opinion, as it just seems to afford the florist more opportunity to add “filler” and make a bigger profit. Roses might be an exception – you get an additional 6 for each upgrade level. But it is expensive – 2 dozen price out at around $120.00! I left the card instructions blank, as I preferred to give that by phone. Clicking the “confirm order” button felt awesome. But I still had some homework to do if I wanted to do this right.
This is a business transaction, but it’s of a personal nature. You owe it to the recipient not to click and run. Even though the site gives you every reassurance that your order will be perfect, I say that if the person is worth sending flowers, you should not rely on it!
Get the name of the local florist from the confirm screen, and call them with your specific instructions. My instructions for Julia’s flowers were simple. Ladies like her have vases around, so I wanted the roses boxed. The florist assured me that the roses had arrived the day before from the market, and that each stem would be de-thorned and would have its own water reservoir. I also instructed him to use a minimum of filler – no baby’s breath, just a few fine ferns. He confirmed the order at $66.52.
Next came the card. Since I don’t know the lady, I adopted a tone of warm formality, and instructed the florist to write:
Dear Julia,
It was very nice talking to you today. I will be working in the Park at (date and time). Please call me on my cellular phone at (number) if you would like to meet for coffee, and if I can take a break I will.
Sincerely,
Sgt. Jack M., NYPD
I pictured her having a fine half-hour snipping stems, arranging them in a family heirloom, remembering her husband, her son, and a handsome policeman who cared enough to walk her to her door. The next week of sunny color and scent might make her smile. And guess what? I’d much rather have that mental image than the new Incubus CD and dinner out that the $66.52 was earmarked for. I can have dinner at home this Friday with the handsome policeman, and not bust my budget.
I had been explaining all this to Jack as I went, and when I hung up the phone, he was looking at me with a rather surprised and amused expression. (It was sort of similar to the one I had when he took me to the pistol range. After some rather impressive shooting, he presented me with a paper target that had the bullseye shot out in the shape of a heart. I nearly wet my pants.) Let’s just say that I got my growly little chuckle after all, plus a whole lot more.
Therefore, I recommend FTD.com – with the express proviso that you make it your business to call them and customize the order. I also called the florist the next day – who at this point was very friendly and nice on the phone, since he wanted repeat business. He confirmed that the order was delivered and signed for by Julia S.
Could I have used a mapping service, located a florist near her and done the whole order by phone? Yes. But I would not have gotten the FTD satisfaction guarantee, and my research indicates that it would have cost about the same. In addition, I liked the security of the site, the ease of navigation, the selection options. Making the call to the florist was an extra step, yes, but certain things are best handled by live people rather than machines.
For those following the saga, I will update if (when) Julia calls Jack.
11/8 - Julia called Jack this morning, saying that she was "deeply moved" by the flowers, and would be delighted if he would allow her to take him to lunch. He explained that he can't, really, while he's on duty - even coffee is pushing it. They agreed to schedule lunch for one of his days off between now and Thanksgiving. They were on the phone for about a half an hour and discovered that they share a lot of the same views and an addiction to murder mysteries.
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Footnote 1:
Gentlemen, I state that if you can muster up a growly little chuckle that does NOT sound fake, while simultaneously holding your beloved very close, you have a 98% chance of getting lucky. (That’s Jack’s success rate, anyway. The other 2% of the time I was either annoyed with him about something, late for work or in a steak and cabernet induced coma.) Ladies, I believe your equivalent is the throaty, sexy laugh, administered while lightly running your fingernails down your beloved’s neck, just below the ear.
Your mission: try this on your beloved and report back in my comments section.
*** LEGAL DISCLAIMER *** The author assumes no liability for torn clothing, property damage caused by flying shoes, or scorched bed linens as a result of the use of growly little chuckles or throaty, sexy laughs.
Recommended:
Yes
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thom413
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Member: Thomas Tronolone
Location: Long Beach, New York
Reviews written: 121
Trusted by: 176 members
About Me:
"Those friends thou hast ... grapple them to thy soul with hoops of steel." Hamlet
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