Today it was the postman's turn. Lots of envelopes plopped through the letterbox, each containing a cheque and a note requesting a valentine card, or two, or three. Some had little stories attached - who it was for, where it was to be sent to, why they wanted to buy it. Others had the bare minimum - return address only.
And then the phone started ringing again. Normally I answer the phone when it rings ( Bob says that most people want to speak to me anyway. They don't believe a mere man is capable of taking an order!!) But Tuesday morning is my food shopping time time with my Mum, so Bob was "Mr Embroidered Originals" for an hour or two.
And the stories he had when I got home - an old man ordering a card for his 86 year old wife, a batch of calls from people who didn't really know what they wanted (Bob's answer to that is to send them a Mail Order Catalogue) and various other gems.
We had two trips to the Post Office and then ran out of board backed envelopes and stamps. Emergency online order for more supplies and the next lot of orders will have to wait till tomorrow when the envelopes arrive.
I've been wandering around in a daze the last two days, mainly due to lack of sleep and brain overload, trying to keep calm and carry on, basically - avoiding if possible my usual chaos.
There is one person I haven't heard from though, and it's troubling me. For a number of years now an old gentleman has been a regular mail order customer, ordering very special Valentine, birthday and Christmas cards for his wife. She was in a home, unable to recognise him or anyone else. He was the eternal romantic, a lovely man who visited her daily until one or two health problems meant he could only do the round bus trip twice a week. She is 92 and he's 91.
He would phone his order to me and we would have a good old chat. I last heard from him before Christmas when he was ordering his Christmas cards.
Since then, nothing.
He would normally have got his Valentine order in before now and I'm beginning to think the worst. Not because I might have lost a paying customer, but because if something has happened to him or his wife, I'll never know. It's sad.
You know, that's the thing about this business, it may just be greeting cards at the end of the day, but it means that people are coming to the shop or phoning because they want to buy for a special occasion - a new grandchild, a son's wedding, a friend's birthday....and whatever it is more often than not, they tell me all about it. So I get to hear their stories, usually happy but sometimes harrowing. It's not always conducive to work, standing blethering for half an hour or so, but ach well, so what.
( Confession - if Bob sees a car parked outside for more than 20 minutes or so, and he's usually working in the house rather than the workshop, he "phones" me on the intercom button on the phone. I pretend to the customer who's in full flow about something or other, that it's an important call that I must take and that gets rid of them!!) It's not that I don't like talking to them - I could stand blethering all day - but every half hour or hour when I have a chatty customer means I'm not working, so that time has to be added to the night shift at the other end or else the work would never get done. That's probably put a few noses out of joint! If you read this and think I'm meaning you - naw, I'm not, it's someone else!
Help ma boab - look at the time - 1.11am!!! There will be a little old lady in Glasgow or somewhere with her alarm clock set for 6am so she can be our first "old lady call" of the day, and I'll have hardly got to sleep.
I'm off to bed - I feel the old brain getting a bit scrambled - who am I kidding, I AM a little old lady!!
PS Saturday January 6th Just had to say that I got some good news about ten minutes ago - a happy ending to the story - my old gentleman has just phoned to order his Valentine card for his wife! All's well with the world.