I woke up this morning shaking.I had a nightmare and it was all about decorating. It's kind of funny now that I think of it.
A new client has me come in to redo a good portion of her home. A good project with a very nice budget. Seem like nice people. While we were discussing dimensions and what they wanted to do, another woman comes in to the room and starts talking decorator speak: seat heights, ottoman height, crown of the seat, technical stuff about fabrics. I am not introduced, rather ignored by both client and this woman. She's clearly a designer. I am thinking: what is she doing here? Have they hired 2 decorators?
To ease the uncomfortable situation, I put my hand out and say, "Hi. I am Abbey Koplovitz, I don't think we've met."
Then the wife starts yelling at me, "Don't talk to her. You may not speak. Stop talking."
I turn to the husband with horror, "No one gets to talk to me like that." Then to the wife, "I don't think the communication between us is positive. I don't think I can work together. I will send you back your balance for the remainder of your deposit and retainer along with an invoice for the work done to date."
The other decorator says nothing. It's crazy uncomfortable.
Now I am trying to leave but the husband is convincing me to stay, blocking me with his body. He really wants to work with me. I say that I am sorry. I cannot work with them. I am desperately trying to leave, but I cannot find my shoes. I am searching through their very large house for my clogs. They are no where to be found. I can also not find my rain coat and it's pouring out. I am stuck. Tons of contractors are in the house milling around like aunts. A pre-school class is going on in the kitchen. (This is a dream, after all, weird things happen.)
My friend, Paul appears, and he's making the gesture of hand below the neck. Cut it off, he's telling me. Finally, I find my shoes and my jacket.
As I am leaving, the wife says, "Her rates are better than yours, anyway."
I say, "You get what you pay for."
And then I wake up.
