Today marks my 4th day of being OPEN here in Quartzsite- at least technically. My online business was open even when I was on the road, and the day I got here I put out some easily accessible stock on a table just so it looked like I was a vendor- but as far as my tables and displays being fully set up and stocked, and my booth looking like some semblance of a business, today was the 4th day I was open.Business is slowly picking up. The snowbirds are starting to arrive. People are beginning to get bored and come out to the vending areas and wander around. Some are buying, some come to find out what there is to buy, some are just trying to figure out who is here and open, and some just want to get away from their "RV-mates" and come chit-chat about stuff.
Now that I am technically open, I have been spending my days organizing and pricing all my new and exciting merchandise, and designing my displays to showcase new product lines. It is alot of detail stuff, but stuff that I can get done while open. It keeps me busy and active, and available for people because they see me bustling around and don't feel like they are intruding if they engage me in conversation. Right now I am the only "Rock Shop" open, so I can build a repoire with people before any of the other rock vendors show up.
More notably, though, today was the day I got to cut rocks again. I completed all the little detail stuff I needed to do in my booth, and my reward was I got to cut rocks again. I have been looking at my studio space all week, as I have labored to create a great "Rock Shop" in my 40x40 vending space. I have rummaged through boxes of rocks, many of which I have dug or collected myself, and envisioned a particular specimen on the saw revealing its insides to me for the first time. Or imagined in my head what that rock would look like polished and made into a beautiful piece of jewelry. And I practiced delayed gratification for a little while longer.
This summer was full of delayed gratification. The rock saw sat idle, while I spent free time at rockhounding sites. I gave up days of paddling, hiking, and climbing to collect rocks and build my inventory in preparation for the winter season. On the road there was more delayed gratification because the saw and the polishing wheel were inaccessible in the trailer, stashed behind boxes of rocks, and buried beneath mounds of stock and merchandise. Once in my vendor space, I unloaded the trailer to find the rock saw and the polishing wheel waiting there patiently. Before I began to set up my booth, I set up my studio space- two tables with all my tools, my saw, my rock tumbler, my lapidary wheel, and lots half-finished cabs- and there they sat while I spent the last week getting open.
But today, it was all worth it. I opened up a bin and took out a Fairburn Agate. One that I collected this summer in South Dakota. It had a rough tumble polish on it. That was my consolation this summer, letting my tumbler do some of the work while my schedule was insanely crazy. I looked at it for awhile. It had been two months since I had looked at this rock. I'd forgotten how beautiful it was. Then I remembered the peacefulness of the badlands where I had collected it. It was mid-summer. The birds were singing, flowers were still blooming on the prairie, and there was a gentle breeze whispering through the grasses. I turned on my lapidary wheel, and started polishing, lost in my thoughts.
People came and went, I stopped acknowledge them and occasionally to chit chat, and then I would resume. Something amazing was taking shape in my hands and I was consumed by its beauty. Slowly, a smooth, shiny face was emerging, the colors and patterns becoming more vivid now. I had been looking forward to this for the past few months, and it was worth it.
Then a man came at about three o'clock. This man was not the typical customer of a Rice Ranch vendor, or of any outdoor rock show vendor, for that matter. He was wearing a royal blue, button down shirt, pressed and starched, dress pants, and enough cologne to scare away any coyote within 50 miles of Quartzsite. He was in his late 40's or so. He seemed out of place here in the dusty, windy desert- more like he should be a buyer at a glittery wholesale show for Macy's. He spent about 30 seconds looking around my booth, then turned to me working at my studio table and said, " Hey, do you have any cabs done?" A good question. I only have a few out at the moment, and they are rather inconspicuous among the other stuff in the cases. I stopped, still holding the stone in my hand, got up, and went over to the case where the finished cabs were so I could show him what I had.
He looked at the cabs I showed him for all of about 20 seconds and then proceeded to talk at me about how he sold jewelry and wanted to buy a bunch of stuff wholesale for his business- not talk to me, but rather hard sell AT me, like I was a nobody sitting here in the desert, with no clue about business, polishing a rock because I had nothing better to do. "I'll give you $70.00 for all of your jewelry and cabs", he smirked. I just stared at him. It's a good thing it's the beginning of the season and the head to mouth filter is still working well. This was definately one of the times when I should NOT say what I'm thinking. Instead, I said, " I'm sorry. I'm not interested in selling any inventory at wholesale right now. But you could leave me a card and if I am interested at the end of the season, I might call you."
He got adamant and continued his hard sell spiel about how he makes artists rich when he buys their stuff and then takes it to his business to sell. Again he had that air about him as though he thought I was just some stupid starving artist sitting here in the desert desperate for money, trying to polish a rock or two so I could eat. Then he said the worst thing in the world he could have said to me, especially on this day, when I finally got to cut rocks after looking forward to it for the past two months. He said, "Well you could be making millions of dollars, sitting on a beach in Mexico. I could make you rich and you would never have to cut a rock again."
That was enough for me. I laughed at him, put my hand up in his face and said, "Stop. You will stop speaking now. This is MY business you are standing in, and it is MY turn to speak." I took him over to the stack of boxes of rough Utah Wonderstone I had just collected last week, pointed to it and said, "I am not interested in selling any of my cabs to you at wholesale. The only thing I would sell you at wholesale is a box of these rocks. I do not cut rocks because I have to. I cut rocks because I want to. I have been to Mexico 4 times, as well as beaches in the Mediterranean, Greek Islands, and the Carribbean Islands, and I can go again if I want to. So here's the deal... I dug these rocks. I cut and polish these rocks. I do not know how selling my inventory to you at wholesale instead of selling it to other people at retail will make me rich. But I do know that even if I were making millions of dollars I would still cut rocks. I am here cutting rocks because I love to cut rocks. I cut rocks because I WANT to, not because I have to. Now, excuse me. I have a rock to cut."
He looked at me like I was some crazy woman, and rightfully so. I probably did have a rather crazed look in my eyes at that particular moment. I was rather offended at his adamacy and presumptiveness, and at his offer of a mere $70.00 for an entire inventory of my handmade work. It was like he had just slapped me in the face. He started backing up toward his car, yelling at me as he went. "I make people rich!" he screeched. It was interesting how he seemed afraid to turn his back to me as he walked away. Maybe he was afraid some sort of karma involving backstabbing was going to get him.
And so it's official now, I am open. Today I had my first jerk of the season. I'm sure there will be more.
I went back to my polishing wheel and continued to polish my beautiful Fairburn Agate. I glared at him until he drove away. "I make people rich!" his voice echoed in my head. I smiled at my now shiny rock. "My life is already rich", I said to myself. And it is. I have spent the past several months traveling to beautiful places and collecting rocks, fossils, and other treasures from nature. I am sitting here in the desert cutting and polishing rocks. I am creating beautiful things that people are willing to pay me decent money for. I have friends here and I am doing what I want to do. There are many people on this planet who are rich and miserable. They have alot of money but they are not doing what they love to do. They sold themselves out to become rich. I am not interested in selling out to every sleazebag snotty jerk who comes my way just to make a quick buck.
Besides, richness is relative. My life is rich. My experiences are rich. My existence on this planet is rich. My relationships are rich. My spirituality is rich. I can go out into the grasslands, or the badlands, or the forest and experience the richness of nature. I can see the beauty in a piece of stone. I can work it with my hands and tools and feel the richness of its texture, and revel in the richness of the accomplishment. I can enjoy the richness of the design when I shape it into a piece of jewelry. And the richness of pleasure when a customer falls in love with it and buys it.
I will be perfectly happy to be rich. But only if it is not at the expense of who I am and what I love to do. Only if it enriches my life in more realms than just money. And only if it comes in a way that morally and personally I am proud of. There are people who are rich, happy, morally sound and doing what they love. If I become one of them, great. Until then, I will relish in the fact that today, after months of anticipation and delayed gratification, finally, I got to cut and polish some rocks.
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