Valentine's Day for me was work and a ton of it with very little sleep. By the end of the day on the 14th, I'd have red eyes (no sleep), a slightly delirious gate (again, no sleep) and bloody hands from stripping thorns off roses. Roses have thorns and they must be removed, or stripped, before the rose can go out to the customer. I was a stripper. One afternoon in the Valentine's rush, I was taking orders with a long noisy line but our designers had run out of stripped roses, so my mother comes marching out front to take my place and tells me "I need a stripper! Go to the back and strip, will ya?" Dead silence and a bunch of stares.
Valentine's Day was, at the time, something through which to suffer. Now, looking back with decades gone by, I nearly miss it. I miss the crew of characters. We had fun.