May 19

China-holic: Two Steps Forward, One Plate Back

Well, shoot.

The thought that I had completed my formal china patterns had me feeling giddy these past few days.

The modern pattern, Kate Spade Union Street, had been easy . . . I finished it last year for my birthday.  There were no special requirements, simply buy five-piece place settings.  Boom. Done.

The traditional pattern, Lenox Coronet Platinum, had been more persnickety.   I like the accent plate much better than the salad plate.  I didn’t figure that out until after some kind people had purchased five piece place settings.  I also assumed (you know what they say . . . ) that the department store wouldn’t exchange a salad plate that was sold as a five-piece place setting.  But . . . they DID!  And I immediately changed up my registry with all the bits and pieces.

You’d think, wouldn’t you, that this would encourage people to gift the china.  I thought that this was a common-sense gesture to make on my registry . . . that most people would much sooner buy a somewhat affordable single plate of china at $40, than a five-piece place setting at $110.

(Maybe it’s just me, but I was ultra-attentive to keeping an array of every price point on those wedding registries . . . a little something for everyone, so they wouldn’t be trapped into something expensive if they didn’t feel that generous.)

(I’m far down the tangent road at this point.  I’d intended this to be a three sentence fly-by.  But you know what they say about those, too.)

Well . . . turns out that people LIKE to buy a five-piece place setting, because it’s “traditional”.  I think these people also fall under the impression that if I didn’t get it for the wedding, I’d never follow up (don’t these people KNOW ME at all???) and finish what was started.  So . . . why give a girl a lone plate.

But someone did.  And that’s how we swing back to the TOPIC.

After all the giddy feeling of completion when my china arrived yesterday . . . after unwrapping all the pieces, evaluating their quality, taking off their stickers, giving them a gentle hand-washing, and assimilating them into the existing collection . . .

I was off.


One measly piece.  Was it even an important piece?


No, it was:  One. Little. Bread and Butter. Plate.

I knew that I had one less accent plate than dinner plate, so when I counted everything up before ordering, I made sure I added one more accent plate . . . to the number of dinner plates.  And I didn’t count the other pieces.  Because the stacks are a giant fluff of protective layers of paper towels that are placed between each and every item to prevent plate-on-plate scratching action.  I assumed everything was the same count except for that accent plate.

But . . . I forgot about the stranger who bought a single dinner plate.

And now I’m short one. mere. bread and butter plate.

It feels really stupid to order . . . ONE bread and butter plate.  It feels really stupid to order and have it shipped.  Because . . . it’s a tiny $14 plate.  And my whole reasoning here was to buy everything in one fell swoop and be FINISHED.  Complete.  None of this buying two things at a time, paying bunches of shipping, no.

Sigh.  With all these no-carb diet fads these days, who even NEEDS a bread plate anymore.

. . . Unfortunately, the Pixy.

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Posted on Thursday, May 19th, 2011 at 3:14 pm. China-holic, The Art of Commerce.