Wedding Wankers and Other Wonderful Things

Well it appears we are not really any further in finding the perfect photographer for our wedding than we were a couple of weeks ago. Last night we met another photographer who somehow failed to impress us with his superior customer service skills, his ability to work with the client and adapt to their individual needs and his genuine desire to be part of our day. Oh wait, perhaps that’s because he had none, wouldn’t and didn’t.

Don’t get me wrong though, he was polite and courteous and made just enough of the right noises that he could be seen to be doing all of the above but he really did fall a little short for us. Forgetting the grooms name was a good start. I’m sure he sees heaps of people in his profession and they pretty much come and go without being recurring business but its sort of poor form to make it obvious that the name of the person to whom you are speaking has mysteriously flown out of your mind. Maybe that’s just me. It wasn’t my name he forgot though so that wasn’t what really got me.

As far as I was concerned the pièce de résistance was when he advised me with a completely straight face that because their photographers are professionals, out of the thousand or so photographs they promise to take of you on your day, even though they cull them to supply you with around 500 (you know, so you only really see the “best of the best”), all of the photos will actually be usable. Excuse me? Are you trying to tell me that when you get around 4-8 people in the same photo who are not professional models, and are only really there to enjoy the day and the other guests so therefore will chatter or get sidetracked at the drop of a hat, that they will not make a face or start talking right when a photographer is taking a shot? Do you honestly believe that just because you are a “professional”, you are now exempt from capturing people mid blink/sneeze/word/gesture etc. thus creating an image that is, shall we say, less than aesthetically pleasing? Maybe you are. May you should add I am a God to your resume.

And while we’re considering that the client only sees the best of the best and is only allowed to choose between 40-50 photos out of the 500 odd they are supplied with, why do your display albums have pictures of people scrunching up their face as they squint into the sun? Are they the best? Maybe I’m missing something but I fail to understand why I should pay thousands of dollars to get lasting memories of the creases in my forehead. And it wasn’t just the one album either. We viewed at least four albums, each of a different wedding and they all had shots like that…Shots…Multiple. I know Australian summers are not the easiest thing to deal with but other people seem to manage. Or maybe they don’t try to take those shots. You know, the seemingly ubiquitous big white dress in front of the big white lighthouse or the walk across the sundrenched rolling sand dunes, that is unless you’re a wog of course cause then the first port of call is apparently The Rocks or George Street.

So yeah, it appeared that the photographer we saw was slightly puffed up with his own sense of self importance and not the kind of person with whom we felt a sense of easy rapport. Sort of like the other Wedding Wanker who didn’t do much to inspire my patronage either. I know I’m not the classiest person you’ve ever seen in your life and I can put on the Ocker when I’m around other people who seem to be doing the same, and yes, I did actually attend a bridal fair in Blacktown which is only a couple of bogans shy of Tasmania but I’m not especially partial to people I don’t know swearing in front of me. You don’t have my business, you don’t know me and you are a professional trying to sell yourself. There has to be options in your vocabulary that do not require “f” words. I know it would seem like the pot calling the kettle black as I am hardly immune to certain words coming out of my mouth (as nouns, verbs and adjectives I must admit), but there are times when I feel that a little decorum would go a long way. I’m sure as shit that Shazza with her meringue dress, six sheilas to the side dressed in pink taffeta with puffy sleeves and beau named Bruce would not bat an eyelid if someone didn’t bother to use the queen’s English (actually she probably wouldn’t understand them if they did) but I did a quiet double take when the photographer did swear and wasn’t standing there thinking this guy is a dude!