Yesterday I call a J. Hilburn client whom I inherited from a stylist who left the company. I'll call him Dillon. The conversation goes well, and soon we've decided to do a virtual meeting. We speak around ten; then he calls me back with specifics of what he's looking for around one. We agree to speak again at six. He tells me he needs a couple of suits. A few shirts. And maybe a spring sports jacket. Our tastes (not that they have to) seem to align. I spend the next two hours picking out suiting and shirt fabrics, cutting and pasting them into an email, and then searching for an electronic version of the various options. I look on Dillon's FB page to get a sense of who he is. I look at what Dillon last bought, two and a half years ago. I print everything out. I am ready. Six p.m. comes and goes. I call Dillon's cell and no one picks up. I text him. I do not like this role. I feel like a stalker. Finally, around 7:15, Dillon texts me: "Hi Lyn, got busy at home. Can we connect tomorrow...?" Today is tomorrow. It's almost 8pm; the two texts I send him today have not been answered. I feel like I've been jilted before the first date.
Today I have a noon appointment with someone else. I'll call him Peter. This is another inherited client. I connected with him a week ago and we schedule a meeting for today. I send Peter a confirming email yesterday, and hear nothing back. I send him a text today, again confirming our meeting. Finally, less than two hours before our appointment, Peter cancels. He suggests maybe this weekend, but nothing definite yet.
I love the styling aspect of the job. I love interacting with my clients. I love the gorgeous quality of the fabrics, as well as the finished product. I love when my clients are happy.
But this sitting around hoping for promised calls that don't come. Or texts that go unanswered. Or appointments that don't show. Not fun!
No comments:
Post a Comment