I prided myself on not being a Bridezilla this time around. Not that I was an all-out disaster the first time I got married. But at 24, I was younger, and inexperienced, and -- more to the point -- not paying for the event myself. For my second wedding -- to the Mister this past April -- I wanted to focus more on the marriage and less on the big day. Round tables...square tables...didn't matter. White versus ivory linen tablecloths? Nope; didn't care. We kept the invite list well under 100, and focused on crafting a ceremony that meant something to us, rather than one that met or surpassed others' expectations.
We had a great time.
The one detail we really splurged on was you. We decided that, since the day was going to be such a special one to the two of us, we'd shell out for a photojournalistic-style photographer who had the time and temperament to document it.
Up to and including the wedding ceremony, you didn't disappoint. That you made the trip from Oklahoma, where you live and work, to New York City, where we do, to stage the engagement photo shoot blew us away. Your top-notch snapshots from that shoot even more so.
On our wedding day, from the early morning prep until the last guest left, you were present but unobtrusive. Your team and you were consummate professionals.
So would it have been so hard at least to have a sample album for us to look at five and a half months later?
You got us proofs just a few weeks after the ceremony was over. We have long since posted them online, selected our favorites, printed them out, and given you a list of must-includes and must-excludes from which to choose.
In May, a month and a half after the wedding, you advised us that you were "eager to begin [our] album." In July, two months after that, you told us that you had "just checked and [ours was] the next one in the cue."
I sent you two follow-up e-mails in August inquiring about the status of the sample album. I sent a third in September. We haven't heard a thing from you.
When we were in the planning stage for this event, I decided not to get all hardass-New York City-litigator on you. I figured: we were hosting the ceremony in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Where people are nice. Where people honor their contractual obligations.
So we paid you in three installments prior to the wedding. And that leaves us no recourse at this late date. What can I do except stomp my feet and wave my fists in the air to get you to send us our album?
The proofs are lovely. But we paid for your services. You haven't provided them in full. You owe us. It's that simple.
The least you could do is send us a "sorry, but I've fallen behind, and I promise to get working on the album" letter. I'd be understanding. I would. Even though I am a hardass New York City litigator.
*sighs in frustration*
We had a great time.
The one detail we really splurged on was you. We decided that, since the day was going to be such a special one to the two of us, we'd shell out for a photojournalistic-style photographer who had the time and temperament to document it.
Up to and including the wedding ceremony, you didn't disappoint. That you made the trip from Oklahoma, where you live and work, to New York City, where we do, to stage the engagement photo shoot blew us away. Your top-notch snapshots from that shoot even more so.
On our wedding day, from the early morning prep until the last guest left, you were present but unobtrusive. Your team and you were consummate professionals.
So would it have been so hard at least to have a sample album for us to look at five and a half months later?
You got us proofs just a few weeks after the ceremony was over. We have long since posted them online, selected our favorites, printed them out, and given you a list of must-includes and must-excludes from which to choose.
In May, a month and a half after the wedding, you advised us that you were "eager to begin [our] album." In July, two months after that, you told us that you had "just checked and [ours was] the next one in the cue."
I sent you two follow-up e-mails in August inquiring about the status of the sample album. I sent a third in September. We haven't heard a thing from you.
When we were in the planning stage for this event, I decided not to get all hardass-New York City-litigator on you. I figured: we were hosting the ceremony in Tulsa, Oklahoma. Where people are nice. Where people honor their contractual obligations.
So we paid you in three installments prior to the wedding. And that leaves us no recourse at this late date. What can I do except stomp my feet and wave my fists in the air to get you to send us our album?
The proofs are lovely. But we paid for your services. You haven't provided them in full. You owe us. It's that simple.
The least you could do is send us a "sorry, but I've fallen behind, and I promise to get working on the album" letter. I'd be understanding. I would. Even though I am a hardass New York City litigator.
*sighs in frustration*
1 comment:
Good post.
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