What’s your budget for this piece?
Those are six little words I really wish I had heard this week, but didn’t. Yes, I fell into the under-informed consumer trap thanks to my giddiness over being FINALLY (after six years) finished with my Wreath of Seasons cross-stitch piece. I had told my husband last month, as the light finally peeked through this tunnel, that if I did indeed finish the project by my 36th birthday, all I wanted as a present was for it to be professionally framed.
The source of all my consternation, before it was finished, washed and ironed.
It took me till about 11:59 p.m. on April 12, my last day of being 35, but by golly I finished, washed and ironed it before I went to bed.
The next afternoon, my husband packed my project, our two kids and me into the car and to the shop in the pouring rain to get my project framed. As you may recall in a previous post, this particular project was neglected for many, many months after I mindlessly stuck a red folder in my project bag — in the pouring rain. I finally got over myself, moved the dragonfly over a bit to cover the pink squares and made peace with the fact that there will always be a reminder of my early foolishness. In other words, I guess the rain was fitting.
This time, I made sure the piece was well protected from any stain-causing objects. I unrolled it on the framer’s counter and then — looked up. Oh my goodness, so many frames from which to choose! I didn’t know where to start!
The framer was very patient. She let me toggle between two shades of green for several minutes; she made helpful suggestions. Luckily, there were no other customers waiting behind me, so I felt I could take my time a bit.
I have to confess that the only other time I had been near a professional framer was about four years ago, when I had my husband’s autographed concert T-shirt, prized guitar pick and some ticket stubs all formatted and saved for posterity. (I’m not sure which daughter is going to want to inherit a Metallica tee, but perhaps one or the other will eventually learn to have an appreciation for heavy metal.) I recall it being expensive, but since I knew he was very proud of the items — and the autographs were starting to fade as the shirt just hung in his closet — it felt like the right thing to do.
I’m not sure what I was expecting, because again, in my excitement of finishing I did no research into pricing before I came to the shop. In my excitement of choosing woods and mats, I asked no questions about how much each component would cost.
Shame on me.
With a 50% off coupon, it was still twice as much as it had cost in my head. That means its regular price was four times as much. When did I find out? After she wrote everything up. Now, I could have backed up the train and tried to go about choosing less-expensive versions of the frame, the mat and an inner piece (which alone cost $100, I later learned), but even though I saw my husband slightly pale at the cost, he said, “Go ahead at this price.”
After all, we had already decided on the colors and the style. Anything less would be unsatisfactory, right? Well, there was still a dissatisfied feeling in the pit of my stomach as we headed home — knowing that this was a bigger chunk of our finances than we had expected. I tried to justify to myself that, well, it will hang above our fireplace for years to come. At least I don’t finish things too darn often. And could this maybe be my Mother’s Day and anniversary present, too?
I want crafts and needlework to be enjoyed by everyone. I want people who dismiss it as something to do at summer camp when you’re 12 to see the level of sophistication and workmanship handmade items can have. I want people who fall into the “if you have to ask, you can’t afford it” category to never feel the way I did on the ride home just for wanting a finishing touch on something they worked so hard to create.
But I also want to know: Do you take your customer’s budget into consideration when you help them plan, execute or finish a project? I’m not sure whether the woman who rang up my sale works on commission, but she was taking as much of a risk of me saying “Oh, forget it!” as she was me saying “Go ahead.”
Back in the days when I worked in retail on commission, I didn’t just go straight to the highest-end product. Instead, I made a conscious effort to show the range of products that I identified would suit their needs — and the price differences. Sure, you usually get what you pay for. But I like to think most of my customers appreciated the knowledge. I never had a problem keeping my minimum levels month to month, because unlike some colleagues who pressed for the big-ticket items, I rarely had returns from customers with buyer’s remorse.
In the frame shop, even if I knew the price point of every frame she had, I may well have stuck with the combination I ordered because they were my favorites. And like I said, I am taking full responsibility here; the employee was just doing her job. But in this economy and for shops that want to keep loyalty strong, being sensitive to people’s pocketbooks only makes sense long-term. Staying in their price range this visit means they may have a little money left over to come back.
All I know is that when I get the project back later this month, it better kick canv-ass.
