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The Life and Times of Buddy Rhinestone




The Life and Times of Buddy Rhinestone

This week, we bring you another vintage “In the End” comedy column — this one from February 2007.

Our subject? A sleazy parody of our then- (and still-) popular “Smooth Seller” column. Our subject? An entirely fictional creation of ours named Buddy Rhinestone, who shares his philosophy on basic gemology (“Four C’s, schmour C’s”), ear piercings (“ages three and up”) and the power of a smile.

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The Life and Times of Buddy Rhinestone

Buddy Rhinestone


58, store owner, $53,000 in 2005 sales (as
declared to IRS; Buddy’s Open pit; Soome, NJ


THERE WAS A TIME when jewelry buyers didn’t jave to worry about whether their diamond purchase was finacing a civil war, their gold wedding band had caused acres of rare rainforest to be destroyed, their sapphire had been cooked in Thai gem lab, or the watch they’d bought on an Internet auction site was a bootleg job made in a Chinese sweatshop. Back when there was no Internet, no "cultured" gems, no outsourcing to China. There was just your trusty local jeweler, someone like Buddy Rhinestone, someone who stood for doing business fairly and ethically. Buddy’s taking things slowly these days, although his stand on professional conduct hasn’t softened. "People try to tell ya you can’t make money that way, but that’s a buncha hooey! Trust me – there are no written guarantees in my store. My word is as good as my name." Here are more words of ethical wisdom from Buddy:

"Conflict diamonds, shmonflict diamonds!" is what I tell ’em. "Hey, it’s already outta the ground – you don’t buy it, somebody else is gonna." It’s nice to see these folks having a social conscience, but there’s a time and a place.

"These kids, they come in, they don’t know diamonds from dog biscuits. The first thing they ask is, "What about the four C’s?" "What about ’em?" I say. "Four C’s, shmour C’s!" These kids, the don’t trust the common wisdom. It’s like how everyone thinks one human year equals seven cat years, but you talk to a vet, and they say, "The math’s not that simple. It depends on how much exercise the cat gets." Or like how they always say you shouldn’t smoke or drink if your’e pregnant, but you ask a doctor, and they say, four, five cigarettes a day, a couple of drinks – no problem.

These kids, they don’t wanna hear the same old story. I show ’em a big stone, they mention inclusions, I say, "What, someone’s gonna stop you on the street with a microscope?" We have a laugh. I get the credit card, and they’re out the door.


It’s a balancing act. But I’ve run four different businesses under the four different names, so I think I know something about it.

This girl comes in, she wants to see something in white gold. "White gold, shmite gold!" I say. I roll out the platinum. I say, "You and this ring are gonna be together for years – you want something that lasts." She tells me she and the future hubby are on a budget – pastors don’t make too much, and besides, it’s not like she’s gonna damage the ring, seeing as she’s just doing secretarial work for him in the church office. "Oh, really?" I say. Bang! Bam! Crash! I’m swoopin’ my arm around like a monkey on moonshine: "’Let me just get those papers for you, honey’. ‘Oops, another Bible just fell on my hand, honey.’ – the ring’s broken again!’" She goes straight to the boyfriend and tells him she’s gotta have platinum. He winces, but he knows he’s doing right by her. God’s work – we each have to do our part.

Ear piercings? One word: Ages 3 and up. I know – they grow up so fast these days. But you want your kid to get made fun of at snack time?

Sometimes a regular customer comes in, he’s lookin’ at something and you know it’s not for the wife. Now here’s how you play it: A week after the purchase, you pick one of the girls on the floor. You’ve been meaning to get rid of her anyway – hey, you’ve got overhead, that’s business. You tell her to call Mrs. Johnson and ask her if she’s liking the new jewelry. You know, just taking care of our valued patrons. Hoo-boy! So Mrs. Johnson explodes, she’s off to call her lawyer, and the next day, you’ve got Mr. Johnson in there, asking what you’re doing calling his wife! Ohmigod, you’re so sorry, you’ll take care of the problem posthaste. And bam, the girl who made the call is gone. Mr Johnson is happy, and if you do it right, a year later, both he and the former missus’ll be back with new significant others. One couple, three sales. They weren’t gonna last anyway. Everybody wins.

Best of luck, and remember to keep on smiling – people love that.


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When There’s No Succession Plan, Call Wilkerson

Bob Wesley, owner of Robert C. Wesley Jewelers in Scottsdale, Ariz., was a third-generation jeweler. When it was time to enjoy life on the other side of the counter, he weighed his options. His lease was nearing renewal time and with no succession plan, he decided it was time to call Wilkerson. There was plenty of inventory to sell and at first, says Wesley, he thought he might try to manage a sale himself. But he’s glad he didn’t. “There’s no way I could have done this as well as Wilkerson,” he says. Wilkerson took responsibility for the entire event, with every detail — from advertising to accounting — done, dusted and managed by the Wilkerson team. “It’s the complete package,” he says of the Wilkerson method of helping jewelers to easily go on to the next phase of their lives. “There’s no way any retailer can duplicate what they’ve done.”

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