And no, I’ve never been a wedding coordinator, and have only attended a handful of weddings in my lifetime. You don’t always have to “write what you know.” 😉
Confessions of a Wedding Coordinator
by Sarah Elisabeth
Everything is in place. Perfection has been reached. Your expectation—exceeded.
That’s what you said last night at the rehearsal dinner.
Now sheer panic is the best description for your frazzled mind. But you can’t let it show. You must be the calm one. The professional. The person the bride is counting on to make her day.
That saying of what can happen to the best laid plans? It all applies to this moment.
The flower truck delivered to the wrong church. Can they please pick them up and redeliver them? Sorry, all drivers are on other runs. Our sincerest apologies and we can certainly offer you a discount on your next purchase.
Can cousin Russell retrieve the flowers? Sure, he has room in the back of his pick-up. They can pile the bouquets and vases between the hay bales.
Try as you might not to visualize that picture, it happens anyway.
Your cell rings. It’s the driver who picked up the bridesmaids. Good, are they almost here? No, had engine trouble, stuck on the highway in heat already reaching into the nineties. Girls are complaining they are getting stinky sweaty.
You hang up. The bride asks if everything’s okay. You smile and leave the room.
Five calls later, you have a van on its way to the bridesmaids.
Before you can breathe a sigh of relief, the catering truck arrives. You direct them inside and check over the menu once again with the head chef. All’s good, and the cake?
He had sent an email three days ago saying his decorator had taken ill and the catering services could not provide the cake. Did you not get it? Oh, wrong email address. Sorry he hadn’t confirmed the message, very busy this spring.
Your stomach turns cold and you wonder if you’ll be able to restrain yourself from strangling the man, his face a blank stare.
You call in favors from a baker. You’re now in debt to him five times over for this last minute order, guaranteed to arrive in time for the reception. Anything to make the bride’s day.
The wedding crew arrives one by one. Items marked off your checklist. All accounted for, even the six bridesmaids, but wait. Where’s the groom?
You check with the best man. No worries, the groom had issues picking up his tux, but he said he’ll make it on time. You consciously decide not to worry or sing an I-told-you-so about how it should have been done yesterday.
The clock ticks.
The flowers, somewhat rumpled with a few bits of hay in them, are in place. Almost tempted to relax, you remind yourself to check on the bridal room progress.
You’re admitted into chaos.
Two dress zippers have broken and only one pin could be found. The flower girl is crying, suddenly terrified of walking down the aisle in front of all those people. The bride had planned to do her own makeup but trembling fingers had created a smeared mess. Again, no I-told-you-so. You just raise both hands in the air and take control of the situation.
A phone call, and you have pins on the way. You assure the flower girl that she is not walking in front of a bunch of people; she is walking in front of the bride, who loves her dearly. One bridesmaid who is actually ready, though complaining about her underarms, is given the roll of makeup artist. You pray she’s up to the task. This is the bride’s day.
A quick check on everyone reveals all in place. You’re ready to give the signal. The procession lines up.
Hankies are passed around during the ceremony. You’re the one who needs to cry, but you’re the one who can’t. At least not until the bride and groom leave for their new life, and every trace of the event is cleared away.
The note arrives two weeks and three days after the nearest wedding disaster you’ve experienced. It’s the bride thanking you.
You made her day.