“Portrait Photography Hell … a.k.a. Work as Usual”

(The image above is a baby my cousin watches from time to time - she is not one of the kids in the story)

I spent my hour lunch break crying in my car.

Why?

An old lady wearing yellow slacks and a floral print blouse told me off.

She was a customer who didn’t like the pictures of her grandkids.

Standing outside the portrait studio, she waved her hand through the air saying, “I’m really angry right now. I know you’re new…”

I interrupted with, “I’m not new.” (In my head I was counting all 8 agonizing months I spent dealing with customers who thought they could lord over anyone wearing a nametag)

Her eyes became squinty and her voice got louder, “Don’t interrupt me! You act like you’re new! You did a terrible job! It took us a long time to get the kids ready and we specifically told you we wanted blah blah blah…”

In the name of cheap retail photography, I face these women (and the occasional men – but let’s face it, it’s mostly women). We move three paces away from each other, hold our hands out in front like swords and we attack.

They open with a death blow…

“Horrible Photographer,”

I counter the attack with an equally fatal maneuver…

“Horrible Children,”

The battle continues until one of us blinks, admits defeat and awards the victor a forfeit.

I’ve given and received many battle scars.

Old ladies are my weakness.

They deliver the hardest punches.

And so I spent my lunch break crying in my car.