The Yarn Bully
You know, one of the perks of having a job is being able to buy stuff, like yarn. And it just so happens that my new job is about 5 minutes from one of the few LYSs in the area.
So the other day on my lunch break, I thought I'd pop in for a quick yarn fondle. It's been dark, gray and rainy here for weeks and I thought that a quick browse would lift my spirits. I resolved not to buy anything because nothing in this store has a price on it and the only time I've bought yarn there before (the first time I'd bought yarn anywhere other than Michael's) the owner over-charged me by 3 dollars a ball. Ridiculous.
Anyway, I walked in, on my gray rainy lunch break, and the saleswoman asks me if she can help me find anything.
"Oh, no, I'm just on my lunch break and thought I'd come browse."
"Do you knit?" she asked me in a tone that implied that since I was under 100 and probably a total idiot I might just be browsing a yarn store for no reason.
I replied that I did indeed knit and tried to commence the browsing. But the woman who owns the store had caught wind of my presence and came over.
"What are you looking for?"
"Nothing in particular, do you have a pattern section?" I asked, just to get her off my back.
I pretended to look a patterns for a moment and then snuck over to a new section and picked up some cashmere, wishing it were in my budget. (I've always believed that if you have to ask, you can't afford it.)
The owner came over again, asking me what project I had in mind, what I was currently working on, what color of cashmere did I want, etc. I answered as hurriedly as possible, trying to get her to go away.
After she came up to me three more times, I finally asked about sock yarn, hoping it was near the exit and I could take off. She showed me some hand painted DK weight stuff, and said they don't carry anything finer because no one wants to knit with that stuff anyway. She told me it was 6 bucks a skein and it took two to make a pair of socks, burning holes with me in her eyes the whole time. She made me feel that if I didn't buy something, she would sic the three fluffy dogs that live in the shop on me, right for the neck. I bet they make yarn out of their dog's fur and force customers to buy it for a thousand dollars. I picked out the two skeins pictured above and went to the counter.
Between the short walk from the shelf to the counter she asked m three times if I has size three DPNs.
I was in the store a total of ten minutes.
I will never, ever go there again. (And I will happily disclose the name of the store to anyone who also wishes to avoid the Yarn Bully)