The Bridal Salon Lesson
Walking into the bridal salon, I should have been savoring the moment. At 55, I never thought I’d be shopping for my dream wedding dress. Instead, the second I stepped inside, I felt judged.
Two young, polished saleswomen eyed me with polite but lingering stares. I didn’t belong here.
Still, I held my head high, running my fingers over the delicate lace of a gown.
Before I could fully admire it, a tall blonde approached.
“Can I help you?” she asked, her voice laced with fake politeness.
“Yes,” I said, ignoring the condescension. “I’d like to try on some dresses.”
Her brows lifted. “Uh… these gowns are quite delicate. You might want to be extra careful.”
I blinked. “My hands are clean.”
She smirked. “They’re also quite expensive. Maybe you’d prefer our clearance section?”
There it was.
A $10,000 Mistake
I clenched my jaw but smiled.
“Actually, I’d like to try this one.” I pointed to an intricate lace gown on a mannequin.
Her eyes widened.
“Oh… are you sure? That dress is over $10,000.”
Before I could respond, a deep voice cut through the tension.
“What’s going on here?”
The manager, John, had stepped in.
The blonde straightened. “Oh, nothing, John. Just guiding this lady to more… suitable options.”
She thought she was being clever.
John’s expression darkened. **“This lady? You mean Ms. Morales? Soon-to-be **Mrs. Shepherd?”
Silence.
The saleswomen paled.
John took a step forward. “She is the new owner of this salon.”
The Tables Turn
Ashley’s mouth opened and closed. “Wait… what?”
John folded his arms. “Ms. Morales’ fiancé purchased this salon for her. If either of you had been paying attention instead of judging customers, you’d have known that.”
They stood frozen, replaying every smug remark, every dismissive glance.
John turned to me. “Ms. Morales, I can fire them both right now.”
I studied the two women. Their arrogance was gone—replaced by fear.
I let the silence stretch before shaking my head. “Not yet.”
Ashley and her coworker flinched.
A Lesson in Respect
“Ashley,” I said calmly, “for the next month, you’re my personal assistant. My fiancé and I have a lot to plan, and I expect you to handle every detail flawlessly.”
Her jaw dropped. “P-Personal assistant?”
I turned to Matilda. “And you will learn everything about bridal fashion—materials, silhouettes, alterations. You clearly need to understand what you’re actually selling.”
Both women nodded, their faces flushed with regret.
“Good.” I took a seat. “Now, Ashley, get me some champagne and ask me what kind of dress I want.”
She scrambled to the back. Matilda hurried to fetch the lace gown I had chosen.
As she held it up, I tilted my head. “What do you think, Matilda? Will it suit me?”
She hesitated, then carefully replied. “I think you’ll look beautiful in anything, ma’am. But… a sweetheart neckline might complement your shoulders better.”
I smiled. “Much better, Matilda.”
Sipping my champagne, I knew they had a lot to learn.
And as for me?
I had a wedding dress to find.