Beading Bitches

So I skipped out of work early today to spend my mom's last day on Long Island with her. She's 84, battling some bizarre form of cancer that can take 10 to 15 years to kill you and still has the spirit of a 40 year old. I asked her what she wanted to do and she suggested we visit a local bead store. She's been on a jewelry kick since she came into to town almost a month ago and showed no signs of slowing down. Last week she spent a small fortune on silver earrings at the junk sale but was still thinking about the cool earrings I made for her the other evening while we chatted over coffee in my kitchen. The bead store seemed logical now, even sensible since I too was jonesing for a few new baubles.

We stuffed some cream cheese adorned Wasa breads down our throats, gave the cat and dog a kiss goodbye and off we went, eagerly anticipating our next purchases. My mom is having some trouble breathing lately so I left her off in front of the shop. I had to park a few blocks away and upon arriving at the store, I found my mom lingering outside in the stale, humid air. "I wanted us to go in together...I'm so excited!" my mom said happily.

We entered to find only a few people on the hunt for funky beads when we were greeted by a tacky, spray tanned 50 something woman who wore outlandish Prada-like glasses. She half smiled at us saying, "If you need...." not finishing her sentence, but I was more than thankful. Not only did she have a horrendous Long Island drawl, she had Italian Pink lipstick caked on her knobby teeth. Her demeanor was brooding and rude as she quickly sized us up and discounted our very presence. "I hope she's not the proprietor because if she is, she won't be in business long," I thought.

I will refer to her as Coosheen...my nickname for tacky broads who inhibit the vile streets of Long Island. Coosheen paraded her fat ass around the store like a queen bee. Her zebra striped shirt clashed her copper hair and skin. Chomping on gum like some trashy tart, she ignored my mother and I simply dismissing me when I confused carnelian for agate. Oooh...what a crime my friends...what a crime. Another employee, also in her fifties, gossiped and talked loudly about various regular customer's that she hated. I shot her a nasty look, enough to make her stop. How dare she? These people, whether they are a pain the in tush or not, keep her business afloat. I worked in retail a long time and saved those conversations for the break room, not on the selling floor. I guess it's just the way the world is now...simply let it all hang out no matter what the consequences appear to be.

My mother and I scoured each and every tiny bin for a good find. When we compiled our choices, we brought them to the front register for purchase. Coosheen grabbed our tray, examining each and every piece and then complained that we didn't separate our beads correctly. OK...what the hell is she talking about? The she beast then began to berate my mother who has a hearing problem and couldn't make out what she was saying, but I did. I grabbed the tray away from her and brought it over to another area to split up our treasures. I also told this woman she was nasty and rude, not that it would do any good. I put her in her place and then asked for someone else to help us. UGH! I was so pissed off but I managed to hold it in, otherwise I would have clocked ol'Coosheen with the tray full of goodies.

I just wanted to take my mom out for a girl bonding day but found these "beading bitches" instead. I'm not sure if I'll go back there again but what I do know is that there is a sub-culture of uber tacky women that live exclusively in Long Island. With all their filed noses, Botoxed faces and super duper plumped up lips, I find them to be lacking any kind of depth, skills or knowledge. They are "without," and somehow, we all pay a price for that. My advice to anyone who wants to spend a day with their moms in Long Island is to go to Manhattan where the real people live!