On Sunday, I was talking to someone who told me, in reference to working with others, 'If you have a chip on your shoulder, hide it. In ten years, you'll look back on that moment and realize you didn't know as much then as you do now.' Well, that metaphorical ten years only took several hours to manifest itself.
Later on that evening, I headed to the annual staff meeting- an event where all the new faces would meet the veteran ones and vice versa, we'd learn all about the company, eat pizza, etc. As I sat there and listened to each person in each department say a bit about themselves, all that confidence I had about recommending plants for gardens last week took a beating, speaker by speaker. One face would stand up and say, 'I'm so-and-so, and I'm in my ____ year of studying horti-whatever at Humber College.' And right after, another would rise and announce, 'I'm starting my Masters in landscape biobotanology design and execution at X College.' The rest followed like dominoes, one after another, listing their credentials that quickly made me understand I had a long way to go in understanding the plant world. Never mind that I felt proud in being able to tell customers that they wanted to stick to odd numbers and transition from tall to short plants, or to contrast textures if using the same colours; I was in a room filled with people who really knew their stuff, and I wasn't one of them. Not yet, anyway.
And the lesson was further driven home yesterday when a mother and daughter came up to me, looking to fill a rather big planter. 'No,' said the mother, shaking her head. 'The Imperata 'Red Baron' grass is a little too expensive, and will spread too wide.' So I suggested hostas. 'Not hostas,' she disagreed. Feeling slightly discouraged, I showed her my current favourites: calocephalus and oophiopogon 'Nigrescens' paired with purple campanulas. Hesitating, she replied: 'I don't think those would quite work for the location design of the planter. [Ed. Note: she wasn't a fussy customer at all like it may appear, it's that she knew her stuff inside out and was hoping I could top her knowledge with an idea she hadn't thought of; I couldn't] The mother perked up when I showed her the heucheras (they really are lovely colours, and have full, bushy leaves that'd complement almost anything), and was a little on the fence about it when she thanked me for my help.
Head down, I slinked back to deadheading the pansies and wandered over into the rock garden section when lo! With a symbolic flash of lightning, the heavens burst open and the a chorus of angels began singing. 'Sax-i-fra-ge,' they crooned, 'is the plant for her.' Picking up a container with the fullest, most beautiful and vibrant flowerheads I could find, I strode over to where the mother and daughter were browsing ornamental grasses. 'I was over in the pansies,' I started, 'and I found something that I think would really work for you. It's in the price range you were looking for (when someone's buying about a dozen different plants instead of just one or two, price point becomes really important) and fits the growth requirements you were looking for. It won't get overly tall (a couple of inches, maybe), the leaves are close to the bottom so it'll cover a good portion of soil, and the bloom on them is just gorgeous and will last the whole summer.'
Sold.
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