A colleague has invited me to his home for a barbecue, and I want to take flowers as a hostess gift.
During my walks this week I have seen a flower shop, just one street over. Even though it was past the shop’s posted hours, the owners welcomed me this afternoon. I believe the owners are a married couple and their daughter helps them run the place. On a scale of English ability, the dad was a 2, the mom was a 5 and the daughter was a 9 – obviously the strongest of the three. I won’t recount the exchanges that led me to these scores, but through it all they learned why I’m here, where I work, etc. The father said something to the daughter, who waved it off … but then the mother piled on. Turned out they wanted her to ask me about applying for a job at the company where I’m working, could I help her? I said I would return with some information.
While the mom prepared a lovely bouquet for me, the dad peppered me with questions through his English-speaking daughter. Where am I staying? What have I seen? What did I do today? I recounted my successes at the waschsalon, and he asked, “Why did you go to that one?”
“It’s the only one I know,” I answered. When he learned of this, he shook his head. He mentioned that a better, closer option is found in a neighborhood south of the watertower. Unexplored territory.
Soon my bouquet was complete. The mother handed me a second, much smaller takeaway: a white rose, twinned with babysbreath and accented with a ribbon. A small gift for me. Schoen [nice].