Reprinted from August 1992
With all the dignity, poise and professionalism of a confident, well-trained GIA graduate, RB seated a lady customer at the equipped diamond room and then prepared to inspect her diamond ring (a gift from Hubby No. 3). She had come to us to inquire about having the stones remounted.
As she chomped away on her gum, RB held his 10 power corrected loupe to his eye (creating an impressive professional image) and gazed into the stone. The customer watched attentively and slowly edged forward in her chair to get a better look. Just as she did this, RB shifted focus for a brief moment and glanced down at the floor.
“There’s a large inclusion right underneath the table,” he said emphatically.
Evidently RB put far too much enthusiasm in his words and this, coupled with his poorly timed glance downward really caused the lady to come unglued.
“Eeeek!” she shrieked, and climbed up on the chair.
RB, dumbfounded, looked around trying to discover what had caused her sudden panic.
“I hate mice!” she moaned, hiding her head in her hands so she wouldn’t’ have to look.
“Mice?” asked RB, “Mice? Where?”
He shot out of his chair.
“Why, under the table!” she pointed with an extended finger indicating the underside of the table.
“Where?” insisted RB. “I don’t see anything.”
“Underneath the table…oh dear! You said there was a large one underneath the table…”
“I said?” repeated RB, unbelieving.
“Yes, you. You said there was a large something underneath the table.”
“Oh, please lady. I meant underneath the diamond.”
This double talk didn’t help matters. The woman remained on the perch and wrung her hands helplessly.
“I’m even afraid of bugs,” she said shuddering.
“No, no, no, lady,” RB said, trying hard to soothe her, “an inclusion is an imperfection…something like carbon…and there is one underneath the surface of your diamond. Please come on down and I’ll show you.”
She looked skeptical and then a smile crept slowly over her face. This led to a slight giggle and an apparent re-establishment of confidence.
“I don’t know how I could have been so silly,” she confessed as she settled back in the chair.
Once she was seated again, RB should have been more cautious about his choice of words. He took out his 10 power corrected loupe once more and peered intensely into the diamond.
“Hmmm…you have a pretty large culet,” he mumbled to himself. The lady customer glanced around nervously.
“You have pretty well developed cleavage also….” he added confidently.
Her hand flew to her collar.
Before she could gain her wits, RB plunged right on. “Your girdle is pretty lumpy, too…”
“Well!” she snorted. “I’m not sitting here and listening to anymore of your insults.”
She snatched the ring out of his two-inch focus.
“Buster,” she snapped, “I’ve heard a lot of lines in my life, but you’ll be happy to know that yours ‘takes the cake’…I don’t even wear a girdle!”
And she flounced out leaving poor RB completely bewildered.
“What did I say wrong?” he asked me helplessly.
“Nothing at all dear,” I reassured him, “and you’re 100% right! She did have a big culet and a lot of cleavage!”
RB looked disgusted.
“How would you know?” he demanded. “You didn’t even see her stone!”
