because I am the worst client ever

My friend Brandie* emailed me the other day about some photos. Not just any photos. Photos I had her take of my preshus family like back in November…2012. Photos that I was supposed to choose 10 favorites so she could give me the hi-res, no watermarked versions so I could print and frame them and hang them in my spotless and beautiful home, and let’s face it, they’re pretty much going to sit on a hard drive somewhere until we dig them up someday, blow the dust off, and say, “Hey! Remember when we used to use hard drives? HAHAHAHAHA! I wonder what’s on this damn thing anyway?” Because I’m sure by then we’ll all be storing photos in tiny chips in our brains, only they aren’t photos at all, but really snapshots taken with our eyes, because it’s the future and stuff. SCIENCE.

*This is the same Brandie whose ad is on my sidebar that I should take down soon because she’s going back to teaching when her own twin girls start kindergarten this fall, so calling her for a photo sesh might be frowned upon after a long day of dealing with 6-year-olds.  TL;DR: She’s wrapping up the business.

So the deal was, I was supposed to choose 10 photos, out of like 893. NBD. Only it’s TOTALLY A BIG DEAL, because how can I turn down that sweet photo? And that one? Aw…..that one? Oh yes. I look hot there (read: mildly not like a spaz). Definitely that one. So that’s 37 photos? Oh, and the extras are $10 each? OH HI, NEVER MIND.

I have this little problem where my frugality – yes, that’s what we’ll call it – often gets in the way of my senses. I’m limited to 10 photos before I have to pay extra, and I keep that 10 photo limit dead set in my brain. I will not pay extra. Not because I don’t love the photos. Not because I don’t have $20 or $30 or $50 to spend on some priceless memories. It’s simply my stupid brain saying “10 photos. TEN. No more, no less.”

So I listed the 30 or so photos that I liked most, made a mental note to sit down with Christian that evening to narrow then down, and then, I don’t know, someone decided to spread pepper all over the floor to practice their soft-shoe dance routine, and I promptly forgot about the whole thing.

The next day I came across the scrap of paper with the photos’ corresponding numbers on them, made a mental note to go over them with Chrsitian that evening, set it aside, and promptly forgot about the whole thing again.

In fact, for days and weeks I shuffled that little piece of paper around, each time making the same mental note. I’d only remember it when Christian wasn’t home or when I was in the shower, or when I was fighting crowds of imbeciles at Costco. I mean, what is up with that place and all the people who don’t know that general traffic rules still apply in the aisles of a warehouse store? Slower traffic keep right, don’t stop in the middle of the lane, and — well okay, just go ahead and push your way through, lady. A 5 lb bag of Brownie Brittle waits for no man.

Every once in a while, Brandie would text me about the photos she was waiting for me to choose. “Oh, sorry!” I would reply. “Been crazy busy!” which is basically the flake’s version of “I forgot!” or “I shouldn’t be trusted to watch your children because I might lose one!” Or something.

Then I started asking for the photos one by one. I needed one for Christmas cards. Then another for an article I was writing. Christian started bugging me about getting some printed and framed so we might have some reminders of the joyful evening we spent threatening our children to smile, dammit! Unfortunately by this time, my little scrap of paper with all the numbers was long gone, likely suffering the fate of being converted into a drawing of Hello Kitty or Ninja Turtles, with a coffee splatter embellishment or two. So I kinda forgot about it…again.

And then that fateful email from Brandie the other day. The reminder that she was wrapping up her photography business and wanted to get these photos to me. And would she like for her to choose the remaining photos?

To which I replied, “Yes, PLEASE. Sorry! It’s just been CRAZY BUSY around here!”

Objects in photo are actually 2 years older than they appear.
Objects in photo are actually 2 years older than they appear.

 

 

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8 Comments

  1. Dude, at least you got round to TAKING photos. We’ve never had a professional photo session ever, and we’re about to have four kids. #Fail

    1. You know what, I think its overrated. I mean, I know it’s important, but taking photos is what’s important, not necessarily the matchy matchy professional ones. Every fall you see them start to roll out (in time for christmas cards). I think we’ll jus take our own this year. It’s too stressful otherwise.

  2. Yup. This stuff happens all the time. I have two 16x20s of our one pro shoot sitting in our basement, waiting to be hung. Er… anybody need a 16×20 of my family? That’s over 5 years old?

    1. Yup, the last ones we actually ordered prints of were from almost 4 years ago. And we’ve had 2 more sessions since then. I also won a session from another photographer over a year ago, and I can’t even get my shit together enough to schedule that one.

  3. I’m with you. We have never even gotten a professional family photo take, and my daughter leaves for college in a year. At least there are plenty of snapshots, even if they only live on the computer, right?

  4. Okay, I may have to NOT disagree with your title. Oh, just kidding! Sort of… 😉

    Seriously though, I am definitely bad about narrowing it down too. Good thing I haven’t been anyone’s client in a while…

  5. Glad it’s not just me. I finally framed some after 2 years of gathering dust but I have to say – it makes me really happy to see them on my wall even though they are dated. That photo of you two is crazy cute.

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