I'm mad at the florist. In fact, I'm so mad that I don't think I'll even waste my time calling them to tell them I'm mad. I'll just quit using them and hope they bemoan the fact, fall into deep depressions (mental or otherwise) and breakout in really big zits.
When I order flowers, I always call the florist directly. Taking no chances with a generic Tela-floral arrangement, I find out what they have on hand and judiciously avoid, carnations, daisies, sunflowers and the like. Despite the precautions, slip-ups do occur. I sent TWO a large bouquet of peonies from a reputable Austin florist.
"Those are expensive."
"I don't care. It must be peonies"
We settled on a price and I awaited her exuberant reaction. When she did call, it was, "Mom, this arrangement just doesn't look like something you'd order."
She received a "mixed bouquet" which translates to "anything we had leftover that was about to die." When I called to get the florist to set things straight, the reply was basically "tough luck." I was so sorry they had my credit card number. I wished I had theirs.
Partner is very sweet about sending flowers. He knows roses should be in a vase with minimal greenery and NO Baby's Breath. No flower in the orange color family should pass through the portals of my home and never a mixed bouquet. Of course, the florist sent an ORANGE orchid (they said it was yellow) and past their prime roses so overloaded with stuff, you could hardly see the roses.
When Partner got home, he knew they had "done him wrong." I said, "Next time, sweetie, just pick up some flowers from HEB. I'll arrange them myself."