Roseburg day 2
Jun. 28th, 2015 07:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
offcntrContinuing hot, though sales are still pretty good. With no neighbors, I move around my booth, inside and out, looking for the best combination of shade and breeze. The neighbor across the way, selling dog treats, has traded yesterdays' chef's full whites for shorts and a polo shirt. Still had the toque, though. We're relieved; she's not young, and we were worried about heat stroke.
Denise noticed a gourmet salad dressing vender to sunward of us had closed early yesterday, at 6 pm. This morning she was gone entirely, packed up and left, we assumed, as was a gel candle seller and and b&w art photographer. I later discovered that Mama Celia had just moved her booth to a vacant shady spot. She told me her dressing bottles were overheating and bursting in the heat. The other two, however, are nowhere to be seen.
We're graduates of the Eugene Saturday Market, where nobody quits early, no matter the weather, and we've both got a big dose of Midwestern Work Ethic. Bailing on a show we've paid for is just unthinkable. On the other hand, if you find the the show isn't a good fit for your work, and you don't intend to ever come back, I guess I can kinda see the urge to cut losses and go. After all, what's the worst the show can do to you at this point?
Had a visit from a Talking Guy today. This is a person--I can't call them a customer--who comes into the booth, makes some complimentary comments about the work, but really just wants to talk. This guy turns out to have been from Wisconsin (as am I), which was enough to set him off with his life story. I'm polite, occasionally respond, but as he goes on and on I'm desperately hoping for an interruption, customers, Denise's return. No luck, if anything, people are passing the booth by, thinking I'm busy with a customer. I don't want to be rude, but I really want this monologue to end. Finally, as he takes a breath, I break in and say "Well, it's been nice talking to you, but I have a business to run," and miracle! It works! He moves along, though not before taking a card and commenting that he often comes up to Eugene. Oh, god…
I love when kids bring their parents into the booth, because the while parents notice banks, kids notice the animals painted on the pots. Today a little boy spots the blue-and-white rooster bowl, so I can show him and his parents the running rooster pie plate, teapot, little covered crock. I also had an older girl who's just taken her first pottery class, so I break out the handmade brush and practice paper and find she's got a very nice hand at drawing. I tell her she needs to learn to make plates so she can paint them, and give her some tips on how to do it.
Denise noticed a gourmet salad dressing vender to sunward of us had closed early yesterday, at 6 pm. This morning she was gone entirely, packed up and left, we assumed, as was a gel candle seller and and b&w art photographer. I later discovered that Mama Celia had just moved her booth to a vacant shady spot. She told me her dressing bottles were overheating and bursting in the heat. The other two, however, are nowhere to be seen.
We're graduates of the Eugene Saturday Market, where nobody quits early, no matter the weather, and we've both got a big dose of Midwestern Work Ethic. Bailing on a show we've paid for is just unthinkable. On the other hand, if you find the the show isn't a good fit for your work, and you don't intend to ever come back, I guess I can kinda see the urge to cut losses and go. After all, what's the worst the show can do to you at this point?
Had a visit from a Talking Guy today. This is a person--I can't call them a customer--who comes into the booth, makes some complimentary comments about the work, but really just wants to talk. This guy turns out to have been from Wisconsin (as am I), which was enough to set him off with his life story. I'm polite, occasionally respond, but as he goes on and on I'm desperately hoping for an interruption, customers, Denise's return. No luck, if anything, people are passing the booth by, thinking I'm busy with a customer. I don't want to be rude, but I really want this monologue to end. Finally, as he takes a breath, I break in and say "Well, it's been nice talking to you, but I have a business to run," and miracle! It works! He moves along, though not before taking a card and commenting that he often comes up to Eugene. Oh, god…
I love when kids bring their parents into the booth, because the while parents notice banks, kids notice the animals painted on the pots. Today a little boy spots the blue-and-white rooster bowl, so I can show him and his parents the running rooster pie plate, teapot, little covered crock. I also had an older girl who's just taken her first pottery class, so I break out the handmade brush and practice paper and find she's got a very nice hand at drawing. I tell her she needs to learn to make plates so she can paint them, and give her some tips on how to do it.