“Now just move a little to the left.”
The photographer’s eyes narrow, homing in on the shot.
“Perfect!”
Snap.
The photographer is a woman named Susanne, and he looks like a paperboy. Sweat drips down her face, and she’s actively regretting signing up to take your photo.
She’s got a tall order today:
One bride who’s been waiting for this moment her entire life, and one groom so rigid he could double as an ironing board.
But that’s life in the wedding biz.
She waves her arms like she’s at an airport directing traffic, trying to regain control of the situation.
“Okay… okay… let’s keep walking. O—okay… stop, stop.”
“Perfect.”
She pulls out a sheet of paper, checks it, stuffs it back into her pocket, then snaps a photo, checks the screen, and instantly frowns.
In the background, a homeless man is massaging his balls like he’s kneading sourdough—knuckle deep and sour-fingered.
It’s the kind of thing you can’t unsee—and now it’s immortalized in JPEG.
She frowns again.
“One more try.”
Snap.
“Perfect.”
The groom exhales. The bride quietly panics.
“This isn’t what I wanted,” she mutters in that high-pitched tone people use when they’re trying to sound in control but are, in fact, spiraling.
The groom exhales and checks his watch.
It’s been about three hours since the whole charade began. After a moment, the bride gathers the courage to tell the photographer what she paid for.
“…Can… we… can we get a photo over there by the rocks?”
She asks like she’s unsure if there are rocks or if there are photos.
Susanne promptly nods, dabs her forehead with what might have been a car rag, and they waddle off—three people melting in formalwear, pretending this is fine.
The bride turns to the groom.
“Let’s do some candids. Maybe you can twirl me?”
The groom stares at her, a half-frown forming.
“You know that wouldn’t be a candid, right?”
He instantly regrets saying it.
Time stops. A nearby squirrel dies of secondhand tension.
“…Never mind,” he says. “Sure.”
He goes through the motions, unsure how to act candid during something so obviously forced.
They fake-laugh. She fake-twirls. He fake-smiles. And Susanne snaps, under a sun hell-bent on mocking them all.
Two hundred photos and one costume change later, the groom works up the courage to ask for a bathroom break. When he returns, he’s introduced to a new plan.
“Let’s go somewhere else. Different backgrounds,” says the bride, visibly proud of the idea.
So they pack up, drive to a new park, and are met with a wave of humanity.
Hundreds of people, huddled around a pond, all trying to get a view of the same sunset. Eyes—and cameras—fall on them all.
The photographer pulls out a fresh car rag for a touch-up, and they all try to act casual, like posing in formalwear beside a duck pond is a normal Saturday evening.
And that’s when the bride and the photographer see it.
The shot.
The one they came for.
The one that will set everyone free.
All they have to do is stand in the center of the pond’s edge, and the sun’s reflection will create a walkway of light.
But as they approach, a man who looks like he teaches 7th-grade math is standing exactly where they need to be, shouting into his speakerphone:
“Is my red face making you blush?”
He repeats the line four times—each more confident than the last—and they all silently wonder if he’s newly single, or freshly stupid.
They wait. Twiddle their thumbs. Wipe their sweat and silently bond over the shared awkwardness.
Finally, he shuffles away, still repeating a question no one ever answered.
“One last shot,” Susanne says. She means it this time.
You try to smile. But it’s been three hours.
Your thighs are raw, and you’ve entered the dehydration stage where you start eyeballing a dog’s water dish.
Susanne returns to directing traffic.
“Okay… now come together. Umm… adjust your feet. No, your arm. Come on—more energy,” she says, trying to will life into the lifeless.
A vein pops out on the groom’s forehead.
“Just smile. Just fuckin’ smile, and this will all be over with.”
And then—bam—a football flies in from nowhere and hits Susanne square in the head, knocking her over.
They laugh. Hard.
And just like that, she captures the best photo of the day.
Please like, comment, share and tell me what you think! Photoshoots are fun right? Right?
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As someone who used to be a wedding photographer, this is so relatable haha “A special kind of hell”
Hahaha thank you so much!
Brides can be a pain in the a… and you captured it beautifully. I wonder who wears the pants in that marriage or if it has lasted????
of course, you have to be there and that, its just makes it too much
Hahah yes!
The squirrel dying from the tension was funny!
Thank you so so much!
Ha ha ha
lol lol lol I don’t need to read the post. 🤣 The title alone is enough! 😂😂
Well thank you so much
What fresh hell is this?
Hahah still figuring that part out myself
I am laughing again at your post.
We did it as a business once, it was pretty awkward, my husband and myself with a camera and a phone. Most customers were pretty chill but the job itself is no fun, especially when you are a beginner. You take good pics but she doesn’t like it while doesn’t care. It’s always the case, he is a man with no standards, she has triple expectations of the photographer and the outcome. She wants to look like a model, and it’s my job to make that happen. All the nightmare is just working with one couple who we are actually related to. True story, end of career for us…
Oh Jeeze! I bet you got some stories!
Fortunately I haven’t been to many weddings, so apart from my own I haven’t been a part of the circus you describe. I do think the whole wedding thing has gone too far, however. In my time you had the ceremony, then lined up outside the building as and where instructed by the photographer until he said ‘Enough’. I certainly didn’t have all these wishes for the perfect shoot that they have nowadays, and we didn’t have the option to go to another location. It could also have been because it was the middle of December and we all wanted to get inside, me especially as I had a cold. Whatever, I’m glad I don’t have to do that anymore. 😊
I love how you started this with “fortunately” hahaha
Yeah, lol. The last one I went to the best part was the ceremony. The reception was dire, but luckily we were spared being part of the photographs! 🙂
Wasn’t as bad as this, but my wedding photos felt like they took forever, bad enough i was wearing ill fitting shoes 🤣
That sounds like a pain in the ass (or foot) thank you for reading
Excellent and entertaining reading as usual! 🤩
Very true!
Have felt and prayed hard too for wedding photographers, along with the newlyweds…
poor squirrel
Little unfortunate bastard
😂
Just like you said, Tony. Hell. And meanwhile, the guests are guzzling all the champagne and having a fine old time. Judith Colquhoun
Time of their life’s
Lives/**
RIP little squirrel.
LOL. Perfect ending. I could feel the sweat dripping down my forehead into my eyes and puddling under my arms.
Thank you so so so much!!
I gagged at the reportage of the homeless man. Because you couldn’t unsee it, I couldn’t unread it, now I’m gagging every time the details cross my mind🤭
hahaha well thank you so much! this in a werid way made my day.
Oh God, knuckle deep rubbing his balls. 🤣 I live near the beach and have seen that! It’s like these guys look for the opportunity to ruin a shot. Thank goodness for the erase button on newer cameras now. Loved it!
hahaha! art imitates life!!
Very funny and so true. I gave up photographing weddings long ago. Best line from a bride while being photographed: “If his mother says one more thing like that I’m calling the whole thing off!” It went downhill from there.
Say Chesse 📷 ( screenshoting this)
Mine wasn’t that bad but I’ve seen some that we’re every bit as painful as this.