The Jewelry Store—My Biggest Nightmare

The Jewelry Store-My Biggest Nightmare 

We really wanted me to wear the jewelry that has been hiding away in our safe for almost 40 years. In the beginning, I was told to keep some of it hidden from some family members. After all these years, I am not sure what piece or pieces had to be hidden from whom. And as I am one of the last and oldest living relatives from that time period, I guess that there is no one left to hide any jewelry from. So here we go.

This trip to The Netherlands we brought back with us a couple of bracelets and a necklace to have repaired so that I could safely wear them. In fact, we brought back four items. The largest item was a golden cuff that the Dutch jeweler said could not be repaired since it was copper and anyway “it was too heavy for gold.” I was beginning to believe him until yesterday. But more on that later. At least he showed me how to open the clasp which I was sure was broken.

The next piece was a lovely silver bracelet that my husband gave me when we first got together. It came with a matching necklace that I really like to wear. The clasp on the bracelet was also jammed shut, and the jeweler charged us an arm and a leg to open and repair that. He even said that he should have charged more. 

The third piece was a golden (yes, the real thing) Dutch guilder coin that had been made into a charm for a chain necklace. Although the coin itself has lost much value having been turned into a charm, I wanted to make sure that the jump ring and eye on the charm would hold up to hanging on a chain. So the jeweler reinforced the eye and added a new jump ring.

Now the last straw. Oops, I mean the last piece. I am pretty sure that this is the piece that I was supposed to hide from other family members back 35 years ago. Well, around noon yesterday anyone in the family could have had the damned thing. Here is why: When we took in the jewelry three weeks ago, this gold chain bracelet with five gold (yes, the real thing) Dutch guilder coins needed checking to see if it was safe to wear without losing any coins or even losing the bracelet. The female jeweler said that someone would notify us of the cost of reparations before beginning work on it. We agreed and left the bracelet with the other items. Last week when we picked up the first three items, the charm bracelet was not with them. My husband explained that we were waiting for a phone call to inform us of the estimated cost to repair it. The male jeweler said he did not know what the actual “appointment “ was, but that we would get a call. Well, we received a call on Tuesday that the charm bracelet need a few hundred Euros worth of reinforcement and repair. (I immediately said WTF.)No, actually I said, “No, we aren’t doing that.” The jeweler said it was worth the cost, but we still said, “No.” Then he said that we would be notified when to pick up the “bracelet.” And that next phone call came on Friday night late that we could pick up the “bracelet” on Saturday.

Now the shocking part of this long story. Saturday at midday I dropped by the jewelry store to retrieve my golden coin charm bracelet. After waiting patiently in line (never have seen lines in jewelry stores before), I showed my receipt ticket and asked for my bracelet. The young girl went back in another room and brought back a small gray paper envelope and dumped out three (yes, three) tiny ziplock bags. One for the chain bracelet. One for the golden coins. And one for the damaged golden jump rings. I wish that I had said what I had wanted to say. (WHAT THE FUCK!) Instead I asked, “What am I supposed to do with this?” She looked as shocked as I was. She tried to get the attention of her father to ask what to do. He at first pretended to not hear her, but she was persistent since I said a few more things which I can’t even remember since I was furious and reacting in a foreign language. I could hear customers behind me laughing (probably at poor Dutch coming from an old white American lady), and we waited for the male jeweler to finish up with his customer. Then he picked up the three bags and said, “die rot jongens.” In other words, the goldsmiths had taken the bracelet apart and just left it that way when I did not agree to the price of the reparations. Then the jeweler mumbled something about he would have to put it back together and solder the jump rings. I asked when it would be ready. Next Saturday. I also had to ask for my receipt back so I could prove that bracelet was mine. Both he and I kept saying this was terrible (in Dutch). Then as I left the shop full of customers he shouted in Dutch, “In either case, have a good weekend.”

Nowwwwww!