En route back from the auto parts store (because, of course, my car picks now to be on the fritz), I saw a greenhouse nestled in a residential area and thought, "PERFECT!" We have a few plants that made the voyage from our former places, but in all honesty, I'm really hoping this will be my chance to have a real green thumb. Sure, I may have a record of killing cacti (I loved them too hard), but if there's TWO of us, then the plants have double the chance of survival! Plus, we have a built-in wall bookshelf and I'll be damned if I'm not going to cover the top of that thing with cascading ivy to create the illusion of grandeur.
So, I stopped at the greenhouse. I thought it was just a like one greenhouse building and a barn in someone's yard, but it turned out it was a giant complex, hidden away among the houses, right in the city. Naturally, I arrived 15 minutes before they closed, so I desperately ran about the ever-larger complex and scurried to try and find something viney or something labelled as "not easy to kill."
Found it. Grabbed it. Minutes to spare as I tried to navigate my way out of the organic maze to find the checkout.
In the barn, found a mother-earth type and poured out an apology about being so last minute before they closed. She waved it off with a smile.
I rave about how the place was so vast. It was crazy. Never even knew it was there. Wonderful selection. She responded politely about how there was twice the selection in the springtime. Said my purchase would be five dollars.
I asked if they accepted credit cards. She said only for purchases over $25. Checking my wallet quickly, I muttered a curse and joked, "Well, then I guess I need to buy more plants!! I just never carry cash, being from a small town, I still don't trust the city. Here, let me go grab a few more things."
And then it happened. A moment of genuine hippie kindness. She waves a hand and goes, "Don't worry about it, you'll pay me back the next time."
A blank stare, as I was certain she was off her rocker, "Um, what?? No no, really, I'll grab more plants, I couldn't."
She printed a receipt and handed it to me, "It's all good. I know you'll be back, and you'll pay me then." Then a man over my shoulder (seriously, creepin' in the plants - must've been her husband / co-owner / friend Groot) chimes in, "No one buying plants ever has malicious intentions. We know you'll stop by again sometime soon and cover it then."
After my visible jump in alarm from the plant-wall-man speaking, I sputtered something about how they should at least let me give them the three bucks I did have, for now anyways. But they wouldn't have it. All I got out of them was a, "Plant people are good people. See you again soon."
And just like that. They let me walk off with their merchandise. Free of charge. Because they just trusted that at some point in the days to come, I'd return and give them their money. The businesswoman in me shrieked at the madness and potential revenue losses, bewildered by the lack of sustainability in their business model. The poor twenty something (bad person) in me rejoiced over the accidental freebie. But the actual me was just delighted. Foolish hippies or no, maybe plant people are just good people. And they'll be seeing me tomorrow.
