Peggy walked tentatively into our sleek and successful jewelry store like she might be stepping into a trap. She endured Jonna’s greeting, looking relieved not to have been tied down and forced to take a quiz on cut, clarity, color, and carat weight.
Pointed in my direction, Peggy walked through the unfamiliar opulence and stood on the other side of the service department’s newly installed plexiglass protective barrier like she was preparing a compulsory speech. She told me she didn’t know what to do. I smiled and said, “So far, neither do I. What would you like to do?”
She held out a ring like she was apologizing for tracking dirt onto my freshly mopped floor, and said, “I’m not sure you can do anything to help me.” I offered my you can spill dirty engine oil on the floor and it won’t upset me look and said, “Let’s find out.” Peggy told me she had never been in a real jewelry store, but twenty-five years ago fell in love with and purchased the ring she had worn almost every day since then. I put her 10K yellow gold ring with its three white, channel set opal squares under the digital microscope.
Showing a high-definition image of her ring’s thin and broken shank seemed to upset her even more. I added to her distress by wiggling one of the loose, slightly chipped opal squares with a dental pick. When I was pretty sure she was expecting me to suggest that euthanasia was the only humane solution, I smiled again and said, “This is going to be fun.”
I explained that we could remove the worn shank and replace it with a new one. She looked at me as if I had just told her the tumor was benign and her Labrador was going to live. I said we could tighten the chipped opal, polish the ring, and she could have it back in just a few days. Her sense of relief was so profound that she spent a few minutes appreciating both the Sapphire and Tanzanite jewelry cases before heading home.
A few days later, I called Peggy to tell her the ring was ready to pick up, and she rushed in to see it. She tried it on, reiterated her amazement that we could perform this resurrection, and left the store elated.
Almost two weeks later, she came back into the store looking heartbroken. Apologetically, she said, “I picked the wrong size. The ring spins around on my finger so much that I can’t write or type without straightening it out first. My husband said I should come in and see if there is anything you can do.”
“Guess what?” I said. “We can make it smaller, now that your ring has that beautiful new shank. And it won’t cost much, because the ring is in such good shape now.” With new hope, she said, “You can?” I told her not to worry, and we would have the ring ready again in a few days. The next day when he was sizing Peggy’s ring down, our master jeweler Joaquin showed me the ring and said, “You remember that chipped opal? Look at it now.” The little white square had broken in half and come out of its setting. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I think I have a piece like this at home.”
When Peggy came in to pick up her ring, the only difference in appearance was that one of the stones was shiny and not chipped. With a smile that was a combination of pleasure and disbelief, she asked, “And I don’t even have to pay for that?” I explained that since it broke while we were working on it, Chipper’s had supplied and set the new stone at no charge.
When you don’t know what to do next, ask someone for help. Almost always, they want to. At Chipper’s Jewelry, we’ll try to do our part.
Pointed in my direction, Peggy walked through the unfamiliar opulence and stood on the other side of the service department’s newly installed plexiglass protective barrier like she was preparing a compulsory speech. She told me she didn’t know what to do. I smiled and said, “So far, neither do I. What would you like to do?”
She held out a ring like she was apologizing for tracking dirt onto my freshly mopped floor, and said, “I’m not sure you can do anything to help me.” I offered my you can spill dirty engine oil on the floor and it won’t upset me look and said, “Let’s find out.” Peggy told me she had never been in a real jewelry store, but twenty-five years ago fell in love with and purchased the ring she had worn almost every day since then. I put her 10K yellow gold ring with its three white, channel set opal squares under the digital microscope.
Showing a high-definition image of her ring’s thin and broken shank seemed to upset her even more. I added to her distress by wiggling one of the loose, slightly chipped opal squares with a dental pick. When I was pretty sure she was expecting me to suggest that euthanasia was the only humane solution, I smiled again and said, “This is going to be fun.”
I explained that we could remove the worn shank and replace it with a new one. She looked at me as if I had just told her the tumor was benign and her Labrador was going to live. I said we could tighten the chipped opal, polish the ring, and she could have it back in just a few days. Her sense of relief was so profound that she spent a few minutes appreciating both the Sapphire and Tanzanite jewelry cases before heading home.
A few days later, I called Peggy to tell her the ring was ready to pick up, and she rushed in to see it. She tried it on, reiterated her amazement that we could perform this resurrection, and left the store elated.
Almost two weeks later, she came back into the store looking heartbroken. Apologetically, she said, “I picked the wrong size. The ring spins around on my finger so much that I can’t write or type without straightening it out first. My husband said I should come in and see if there is anything you can do.”
“Guess what?” I said. “We can make it smaller, now that your ring has that beautiful new shank. And it won’t cost much, because the ring is in such good shape now.” With new hope, she said, “You can?” I told her not to worry, and we would have the ring ready again in a few days. The next day when he was sizing Peggy’s ring down, our master jeweler Joaquin showed me the ring and said, “You remember that chipped opal? Look at it now.” The little white square had broken in half and come out of its setting. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I think I have a piece like this at home.”
When Peggy came in to pick up her ring, the only difference in appearance was that one of the stones was shiny and not chipped. With a smile that was a combination of pleasure and disbelief, she asked, “And I don’t even have to pay for that?” I explained that since it broke while we were working on it, Chipper’s had supplied and set the new stone at no charge.
When you don’t know what to do next, ask someone for help. Almost always, they want to. At Chipper’s Jewelry, we’ll try to do our part.