IV. Writings From the Edge of the Apocalypse: We Have a Walker!

Resurrection of the “Pebbles,” now called the Apocalypse Up-Do. It has gained me great respect at the nursery.

March 31, 2020

And just like that, overnight, nursery employees became personal shoppers. With the Shelter in Place order, yet an essential business, the nursery reduced its operations to curbside pick-up only. The public cannot enter the building but may place orders via email or by phone. We have had a drastic reduction in staff as employees self-selected whether to work or not, and many have elected to stay home.

We are scrambling to understand what we don’t do any more and figure out what we do do. Is there a point to sweeping the greenhouse floor if the public isn’t coming in? How about displays; why do them? Who takes the orders, and what if those orders involve multiple departments? I am at a distinct disadvantage in this assessment as I am only in my third week of work.

Creating and breaking-in a new system is no small undertaking, and management didn’t have the luxury of a beta test before going live. Sequencing the stages of the seemingly simple process of a customer browsing, selecting and then purchasing plants into a “flow chart” that takes into account the variables of the subjective, unpredictable nature of shopping is a hat trick. It is a work in process, and at the end of the day we confab with our tireless general manager to adjust and fine tune.

Our specific greenhouse plants for the most part are not online due to the quick turnaround of perennial and annuals. Guiding customers in what they cannot see and what they don’t know exists is a new skill set for all:

**Phone rings**

“Hi, this is Theresa, can I help you?”

“Hi, Theresa this is Joyce. I’m sorry I don’t really know how to do this.”

“That’s okay Linda, we don’t either! But I’m sure we can figure it out. What are you looking for?”

My favorite line for uncertain shoppers or uncertain me is:

“How about Chef Surprise? I’ll grab a variety of annuals in colors that go well with each other and have them ready for you at pick-up.”

And on it goes.

It is surprisingly easy to connect with customers over the phone despite sometimes waiting on hold. They are happy we are open and recognize the difficulty of what amounts to selling an unfamiliar perfume over the phone. Most are grateful and forgiving as we act as their eyes and nose.

I was still new to the radios (walkie talkies) when I took my first phone order. As I answered the phone I placed the radio and my elbows on the counter to lean into the phone, hoping to better hear the caller through the ambient noise of the greenhouse. Right as I began taking the order, the radio that I inadvertently turned up, instead of down as intended, blasted so loudly I exclaimed into the phone and the ear of the customer:

“Holy Shit!”

I immediately apologized for my startled outburst, but the customer who was English replied in a deadpan manner:

“Quite all right. Scared me too.”

Then came my chance to extend allowances to a customer. Generally part and parcel of customer service, I considered this situation above my pay grade. The call was from someone whom outside the nursery I would have made every effort to avoid. I had already given my first name when she gave her full name. A slight gasp on my end was not audible over the phone this time. Passing off the call was not an option although hanging up briefly crossed my mind. But she who hesitates finds herself committed to the conversation and I wondered how long I could go before being outed. Surely she would recognize my voice as I easily recognized hers. But It never happened and I gave her the best service possible.

The cashiers are the second to the last stage of fulfillment and located towards the front of the greenhouse. They call customers for credit card information before the order is finalized and wheeled out for pick-up at the Roadway, our term for the loading zone located at the opposite end of the building, about half a block away from the cashiers. However, they are often asked for gardening advice from anxious, curious, and sometimes bored customers, delaying check-out.

For all that, and maybe because of, the front of the house humor has not faded. We have signage at the nursery that we are closed to the public but some people miss it. At the end of one day an elderly gentlemen approached the building aiming to come in the front door. As he got closer, one of the cashiers hollered to the staff:

“We’ve got a walker!”

Despite the challenges, this transition has highlighted the consistent character of this hard working crew. The feeling at the nursery is overwhelmingly that of camaraderie and maybe a wee bit of - I need the money, too.

See below for nursery photos, and of my yarden which is beckoning for more friends.

©Theresa Elliott, All Rights Reserved

My favorite view of the nursery. All those white signs represent roses.

Ricardo Montalbán. Sandy and I have been watching a lot of Star Trek and he keeps popping up. We decided he was the Brad Pitt of his day.

Another Diva cues up.

Close up of the Diva.

Pink frosting on the “Werewolf of London,” the perfectly groomed curving hedge I named after the Warren Zevon song. Here the flowering cherry tree in the neighbors yard appears to sit on top, a sight I wait for every year.

Same view as previous photo, 12 hours later at sunset, showcasing the shadows cast by the giant fir trees in the front of the house seen here as four long vertical lines.