Category:

Touchy or touched?

8/11/2014

What’s up with people these days? Are skins thinning and tempers shortening? Why is everyone so bloody touchy?    A mere comment can send people huffing away, so insulted they won’t darken your door again? Are people regressing back to a grade school mentality? For goodness sake, sticks and stones will break your bones but comments shouldn’t make you do a runner! It’s time to toughen up people!

In this changing world common sense seems to have been replaced with a lack of consideration for others, the only question is where was I when they sent out the memo?   First of all I wouldn’t be so bold as to take food or drink into a store but if for some reason, a brain fart occurred and I enter an establishment with a coffee, and if I was asked to set it down, I wouldn’t get my back up or feel anything but stupid for the mistake I was making. I’d obey meekly, and then have a look around, probably make a guilt purchase to show the store owner I’m not a complete, inconsiderate jerk. I care what others think of me and go out of my way to not break rules or step on toes. I guess I’m old school cause this is no longer the flavour of the day.

Twice last week groups of people walked out of the shop because of things I said to them. First of all, I get to work and a big ass vehicle, one of those 10 seater, fuel guzzling SUV’s was parked behind the shop and not well, it was taking up two of our parking spaces. We have little room behind there for our cars as my land only goes to the end of my back bumper and side to side, only three cars fit comfortably. The other tenant in the building was parked there and then Shane and I fill in the rest of the space. I squeezed in but I knew my son’s car would never make it and that vehicle would end up being parked in. That's happened before and let me tell you, the expletives coming out of one woman's mouth, who ripped into my husband because he was parked behind her, I wouldn't care to repeat in mixed company!

I entered the shop, saw three woman in the back room looking at patterns and asked politely if it was their vehicle. They said yes and I told them it was private packing behind the building and told them nicely that vehicles can park anywhere along the street in Mahone Bay for free, first come first serve sort of affair. They said "we’ll leave" and were gone.   I did tell them that for now Shane would temporarily park behind them but they left anyway, almost tripping over themselves getting out the door. That’s three hookers that will never come back.   I guess I should have the attitude it’s their loss instead of letting it upset me but then maybe I’m assuming…maybe they thought my shop sucked and were planning to leave anyway.

Then three people of my vintage came in with coffees. You could tell that they were hot and full by the way they held them. I politely said, while in the shop could you please set your drinks on the counter. One of them said, “I didn’t see a sign". The other said, “There is no sign”. The third said, “There should be a sign” and they all promptly left. Now I’m not up on all the rules and curtacies of this world but isn’t it standard not to take food or drink into a shop of any kind. If you don’t know this, someone should question what planet you’re from.   I have had a sign in the past but it went AWOL, and no one ever saw it anyway because I continually had to say no food and drink. Since I’ve been open, I’ve told hundreds of people to set their drinks on the counter and probably 85% of them have stormed out the door.   So you're now thinking, why don't I just keep my mouth shut, but you see it's only a matter of time before there is an incident, a trip and spill on someones consignment rug and that's something I don't want to, or should have to, deal with.

I especially like the kids with ice cream, popsicles and all manner of melting treats, who trot in after mom and dad. God forbid you say anything about someone’s precious little darling with sticky fingers, they storm out like I’m contagious. I’m in business to sell things, I do need customers so sometimes I bite my tongue afraid to open my mouth! I’ve watched gooey fingers fondle my hooks and quite frankly, it’s stuff nightmares are made off. One time, an unruly child, after being told repeatedly not to touch anything, did a running dive into a basket of wool with a big sucker in his hand, which he dropped on impact. I guess I’m supposed to charge extra for the sticky bits on the wool.   The fact that the basket was an expensive antique that cracked on one side from the landing didn’t seem to bother anyone but me.

And yes, you can help yourself to a coffee in the shop but that doesn’t mean I want you wondering around with it, bending over to look at things. Set it on the table while you look at the patterns, or sit down and peruse the blog binders and design book or stand and chat at the counter, common sense would dictate you don’t go walking around?

This reminds me of a story. I was once in a quilt store gabbing with the owner. The quilts were all hand made, no machine ever touched the fabric. They were very expensive and the sales people were vigilant about handing out white cotton gloves to all who came through the door. Finger oils stain and nobody's hands are surgery ready. One couple came in and they were offered the gloves which they promptly turned down and in a snotty voice, the woman said they would NOT be touching the quilts. Vicki told me to watch…..she went directly to an all-white, $2500.00 piece of fabric art and ran her hand along the stitching. Obviously, I’m not the only one dealing with strange people, but what gives?

Vicki told me this happens all the time. Some became indignant and turn on their heel and leave, insulted as if the glove had slapped them across the face. I think this kind of attitude should be one of the strange phenomenons that's covered on the TV show “Weird or What?”   Splain it to me William Shatner, cause I don’t get it.

If I spit out, “ Look people, put your damn drinks down or get the hell out” why I would totally understand the stampede out the door. Or if I was sarcastic and said, don’t worry about spilling coffee on this one of a kind, custom designed $1000.00 plus masterpiece, we don’t mind....I could understand how that might offend.

Maybe I embarrass them? They know better and once it’s been established that they’ve been called on the carpet, they feel ashamed and want to leave? Or maybe they think their shit doesn’t stink, (a local colloquialism) and how dare that lowly shop keep telling them where to stick their coffee? But gee, just for a minute, think of how the person in the shop feels about your rudeness when they are only trying to protect their merchandise. If anyone tripped and soiled a consignment rug, that $1.75 coffee would be the most expensive drink you’ve ever had.....but who am I kidding, I'd be left holding that bag as you skip out the door, refusing to pay for your damage, probably blaming me for having rugs in the store in the first place.

18 Comments

The dark side of life and Social Media.....

5/27/2014

12 Comments

It’s 4:05 am and there’s not enough sleep in my weary body to fill the eye of a needle. I tossed and turned for hours and finally crawled out of the warmth of my bed to lie on the sofa downstairs. Usually this solves the problem but not tonight.

I’m tortured by something I saw on Facebook.This is the one thing I find difficult about social media. Amid the jokes, fabulous scenery, selfies and incredible hooked rugs, sometimes there are unspeakable things posted, disturbing facts of life that I am better off not being a witness too. I know life can be cruel, I've been on the dark side of things a few times so I know evil exist. I'm not traveling through life with my head in the sand, I just can't ingest the suffering of others every single day. Pictures flash on the screen of children with black eyes, little animals who have been murdered, abused by the hands of their masters, breeders who are morally repugnant, and all manner of things I cannot unsee or forget.

After viewing a disturbing post on Thursday, I cried violent, angry tears from something so heinous I could barely believe what I was seeing, but this video left nothing to deny, no way to soften the edges. The horrific scenes and sounds are forever etched on my brain. They consume my thoughts, and create a deep throbbing madness in my soul. I know over time the emotions will dim and move to the shadowy archives, but somehow that makes me feel ashamed that I can bury the pain I saw and move on.

Some people are cruel. I can’t even call them animals because an animal has more sense, lives and dies by a code. They don’t kill indiscriminately or torture their victims. They are far more civilized then we are, they have respect for one another, for nature. Killing for food is not barbaric, it is a means of survival, the way of the land. But humans, they are another kettle of fish. We hurt one another, sometimes the ones we supposedly love most. To abuse or torture an animal or small child is unforgivable. If you can do this, there is nothing left in you worth saving. You are the lowest form of life and should be squashed like the evil piece of crap that you are. Death is too good for you, an eye for an eye should be your punishment to suffer your victims fate.

The video was of a woman beating a baby. The child was no more than four months old, not able to sit up on its own. She slapped, kicked, twisted its little limbs and pinched and pulled its nose. She screamed and beat the child repeatedly with a pillow all while another small child watched on and someone worked the camera. The home movie was 4:19 minutes long but I could only stand less than a minute before running, screaming and crying to the garage to find my husband to hug and console me.

It fueled a rage inside of me that needed release, I almost exploded with madness. I ranted and raved and cursed the evils of human life. I wished a plague would wipe out every human being on earth, leave the planet to the animals, not the beasts who claim to be civilized and do unspeakable things. I would gladly die with the masses to stop the pain that so many humans inflict on one another. I cried for hours until I was sick. My eyes were swollen and burned like fire. I couldn’t eat. All I could think about was that poor little baby. My god, what is wrong with people?   My hubby thought maybe she was sick, suffering postpartum depression, but no matter, the fact remains that she did unspeakable things to an innocent.

Why not beat yourself stupid, take the woes of the world out on your own face. Slam your hand in a door; kick a tree with your bare feet, pound the shit out of an inanimate object, that should diffuse the internal bomb welling up inside of you. That little baby didn’t ask to be born. Leave him or her on a doorstep somewhere, at least give the child a chance you selfish scum bag.   Yes, I know some will say you can’t think when you’re depressed, it’s a chemical thing in the brain, shit happens, but I don’t give a f---, you’ve just beaten a baby almost to death, stop with the excuses. Admit you’re in trouble and give them up or go jump off a bridge. No child deserves to be treated this way, no excuses people, no help, just a noose and kick the chair. Don't allow what you think others might think of you to take precedent over the welfare of your child. Later saying you're sorry doesn't cut it, there is no absolution for this. That baby will never trust your hands again, it will flinch from your touch. A million 'I'm sorries' will never fill the horrible hole you dug.

There is no forgiveness in me for this kind of crime, no circumstance where I would say, okay, I see. I have no sympathy for the offender, my heart only bleeds for the victim, the innocent child who can’t defend himself, could barely lift its head. My god! If I ever lost it and beat one of my dogs, I would take a trip to the garage with the vacuum hose. I couldn’t live with myself. It would eat away at me like a cancer, shame me to an early grave. Maybe I'm a cold, judgmental, unforgiving bitch but I've always been an advocate for the underdog and this is as black and white as any scenario can be, no excuses, no justifications.

And the person with the camera could have intervened, how could they stand there and watch this atrocity? I’d be in jail for murder! To me, they are as bad and the one doing the beating. You miserable cowardly bastards, pick on someone your own size, someone who can at least defend themselves, make it an even fight….me for instance!

What that women did made me so angry and felt so helpless I felt like I would explode. I had to do something, anything. So Sunday I wrote about it in my book, The Charnel and added a new chapter to the story. My serial killer, Mabel, murdered the woman.....this child abuser fit her directive to take out the undesirables of life. The words I wrote were cathartic, a way to heal the wound that this baby beater opened up in me. I needed to create justice for that poor child, it’s all I could do to stop feeling powerless…

I’m not sure if the woman was the child’s mother or a babysitter, she was Asian and didn’t speak English so I didn't understand what she was screaming at the baby. I can’t assume their relationship, but whoever you are; I hope someone recognizes you from the video and you suffer the fullest extent of the law. I pray that little baby is saved from your brutal nurturing and is able to grow up with a healthy mind, the poor little precious darling…..

So I won't ever open another video on FB, no matter who sends it to me. Normally I speed past the pictures of abused animals and horrific stories of suffering, not because I don't feel for them, because I feel too much. The horrors of real life would destroy me, I'm not strong enough to carry around all the pain I see.......

12 Comments

Murder on the Orient Expression.......

5/13/2014

5 Comments

The world is going to hell in a “handset”.   I was fuming last week. I ordered boxes to ship our new Octi-Spinner Floor Frame and called a company that will remain nameless because 99% of the time they are great...and really, it's all my fault anyway for not being able to understand.

I checked the dimensions of our new frame and dialed the 1-800 number to place an order for shipping boxes. After pressing the 2 for English, then 3 for wanting to place an order I waited a few minutes for my call to be processed. A gentleman with a very thick Asian accent said hello.   Now, I will swear on a stack of bibles, I don’t have a prejudiced bone in my body. I believe we are all equal…period the end! But…..and in this case I don’t mean to negate the previous statement with the but…..I have a problem talking on cordless phones, my hearing is perfectly fine but stick one of these gadgets on my ear and if there’s a low talker, a thick accent or background noise I might as well be using one of those tin cans with a string.

Other than Hello, I couldn’t understand him. He talked fast so I had to mull over what he said trying to decipher it.  The time delay caused confusion on his part. I forced the poor guy to repeat himself over and over so I could understand. And I also had to repeat myself in this two way conundrum. I gave him the order number of the box I needed three times before we were on the same page and then he tells me that they are not in stock, which took several explanations for me to get. So now I have to go up a size so I look in the catalog and give him a new number, those boxes are apparently in stock. He tells me the shipping is free, I understand that so I ordered three bundles; each bundle, according to the description in the catalog consists of 10 boxes which were $4.32 each. He told me the total of my order but it could have been five billion dollars as far as I could understand, so I just said okay, doing a bit of mental math in my head for an idea of the amount of the order.

So I’m feeling unsure and need confirmation so I say slowly “I ordered 3 bundles, yes?” He said yes, your order will be there in 3 business days, at least that is what I thought he said. I'm doing my best to hear, I had the phone pressed so hard to my ear it was fusing to my head and the other ear was plugged with my pointer finger to drown out all the noise of the shop around me. I was embarrassed asking him to repeat everything he said to the point where my face burned bright. Anyway, I finally hung up hoping I hadn’t just ordered a fax machine.....the experience felt like I fell into a black hole with no idea of what would happen next. I crossed my fingers.

Three days later the delivery guy drops off my boxes. All 3 of them! Not 3 bundles of 10....and they were an exorbitant $16.44 each! They weighed almost as much as the frames, they would have cost an arm and a leg to mail. I was livid. Not only was this order wrong, but my customer’s frames couldn’t get mailed out in a timely fashion! I stomped up the stairs, each pounding of my feet matched the drum of my heart. I was almost frothing and hyperventilating when I reached my desk. I dialed the toll free number and through gritted teeth waiting for someone to answer.....hoping it would be someone I could understand! I went through the series of questions, 1 for English, 2 for French, Do you want to place an order, press 1, check on a previous order press 2, talk to accounts payable, blah blah. All Done. There was a small wait and a woman come on the line. I breathed a sigh of relief, I could understand her!

I turned on the desk fan to blow cold air on my angry face. I said, I am very upset and I will try to be calm and tell you what happened and if I sound rude I am sorry as I don’t want to take this out on you. She said okay and I explained what happened. I told her the story and she started apologizing, apparently this sort of thing happens often. If she had been rude I might have lost it but as we spoke the frustration deflated, my heart slowed and the blood retreated from my cheeks putting out the searing fire. She wanted me to keep the boxes but I told her they were way too heavy to ship my items…..they were more geared to mail car engines, seriously!    She arranged for a pick-up and they came the next day to haul them away…they were too heavy to move so they rested against the staircase. The gal on the phone chalked it up to a 'miscommunication'. I called another company I deal with and ordered the boxes. There they will be here on Tuesday so I can get the frames out. Oh the life of a shop keep, the thrilling day to day, keep you on your toes excitement that I could very well live without!

So at the risk of sounding like a jerk, this is what I would like to happen when I make a call. Instead of only asking for French or English, maybe they need to add a couple of extra categories. I really mean no offense but I’m useless when it comes to deciphering thick accents that I’m not used too. When I started watching Coronation Street it took two weeks before I was catching everything that was said, up to that point it was all garbled gook.  So here goes....press 1 for French, 2 for English, 3 for East Indian Accent, 4 Oriental Accent, 5 Irish Accent, 6 Scottish Accent, 7 German Accent, 8 English Accent, etc… Match the caller and the receiver so they can have a pleasant telephone experience, not a head banging, where did I put my gun transaction?

I don’t know why but I get really angry with telemarketers, banks, credit card companies when I am not able to understand what is being said. It starts with embarrassment and then blossoms into a bit of phone rage. I hate talking on the phone on a good day...mess it up with 'miscommunication' and I go off my bean.  Someone told me the audibility is much better on landlines, maybe I’ll need one of those in my office because I’m not good with this new fangled cordless invention.

I found this on the internet so I don't feel like too much of a prat: It is very common to talk with someone whose native language is different than you own, and as business goes global, it is necessary to be able to navigate phone conversation with anyone who answers. Everyone’s accent is foreign in some part of the world. When we can see the person with whom we are talking we can use visual cues to understand better what he or she is saying. Phone conversations provide no such opportunity and can be very frustrating.

Tomorrow is our monthly daytime hook-in. Come join us for homemade cookies!

5 Comments

Day Off? Is there really such a thing?

4/28/2014

1 Comment

On Sunday, as I wiped the sweat from my brow, a thought occurred to me. What is the meaning of a day off?

Always curious, I looked up "day off" on the internet and this is what it said: A day's vacation from work or school on what would normally be a working day. Well I disagree...maybe the definition should be revisited because there is no vacation or lack of work on a day off. Work starts as soon as you rise, cooking breakfast, doing the dishes. Generally, Sunday is the only day to do the laundry and house work that piles up throughout the week.   To me, a day off implies putting up ones feet to take a load off, watching a bit of TV, read a book or nap!

So whoever came up with this ridiculous noun had it all wrong. A day off is really only a day off the clock, not off the work. To prove my point it isn’t called houseplay is it? Housework implies work! And being a female, women’s work is never done is it? We don’t even get a day off on Mother’s day or our birthday or even Valentine’s Day. When do we get a day off???? How many women get a day to do absolutely nothing but play...have someone wait on them hand and foot, cook and serve the meals, and clean up the mess?

"After work", is another misnomer? "I'm going home after work". As soon as you reach the house you don the housewife hat, but even if you're single there's no shortage of work to be done after the job work. We all have to eat and we all dirty our houses. It's our day to day living that forces us to clean it often, forces us to be slaves to maintenance or we have to live in squalor. I’m far more relaxed about cleaning house when hubby is away but try to make an effort when he’s home to preserve the illusion that I’m still the younger, energetic, woman he married.

Every day we cook, clean and do maintenance things, maybe scour a toilet, fill up the wood box, a bit of this and that. No matter how good your hubby might be in the chore department, the onus is usually on the woman to do the bulk of it or at least organize the work schedule. My hubby is great and as long as the dishes are done and the bed looks neat he isn’t overly concerned about the stuff under the rug. Fortunately for me, he does take orders well and was right alongside me sweating; stripped down to his T-shirt as if being caressed by a summer breeze. I complain my house is small until we have to clean it and then I curse the miserable 1500 square feet. Anything bigger and I’d cry so why I moan about an extension I'll never know, it'll be more space to clean!

So, Sunday was wasted on work. No fun, no drive in the country, no restaurant meal out, just work cleaning stuff. We cleaned right up until we stopped to make dinner which is really just another form of work and then did the dishes. It was dark before there was time to relax. Finally we could move into “after work”.

And while I'm doing this rant, what’s up with “time off”. Time off from what? Work? Time’s been on since the beginning of…..stopping for nothing and no one.   So why is it time off? Time off the clock? A time that you don’t get paid? Work still remains. Work never ends and time never stops. Stupid things to say. Find new words, something more literal to describe not being at a paying job. That’s another bone of contention, all the shit you do at home might be an unpaid job but a job nonetheless. Ask a stay at home mom or dad.

My day off was anything but. There was bathroom detail, dusting, vacuuming and sheet washing, laundry to minimize, cooking, dishes, wood piling, reducing the clutter. There was so much work there were hot flashes and sweat. Windows had to be opened and ceiling fans turned on. All this to reach the part where I could relax “after-the-work" on my “day off”.

I finished my “L” pillow. I’m happy with it. I’ll sew it up at some point but right now I’d like to move to the letter “C”, maybe in reds, blues, greens and gold this time.   I’ll do the M next for my son but I really want to hit the C.

I used our new dyed wool called Paradise for the background. Lime Green and Royal Blue, Turquoise, Orange and Lavender for the accents and flowers. The vines were all done in Lime Herringbone. It was fun and fast, hooked in #8 cut. Tonight, after work I'll start it.....

ORIGINAL VERSION

COMPUTER COLOUR ENHANCED

1 Comment

Pet peeve about pee...

10/8/2013

2 Comments

Rules not just for men....gross isn't it??????

I'll bet you looked at the cartoon and you're laughing, thinking I'm going to slam men for leaving the seat up or peeing all over it. Well, you're wrong. I have no beef with men, well, at least not with my guy. He's tidy in the bathroom and I've never sat in anything wet or splashed into the bowl because the seat was left up.

So men are safe....it's women I'm going to bitch about. I have a real pet peeve when it comes to female public washrooms, and although it isn't public, the bathroom at the shop.

I'll put on the big girl panties and clean up after my son and myself, but I'm going to have draw the line on cleaning a stranger's dribble or God forbid, worse.

I have a question for women. I've wondered about this for years. Why in heck, don't you sit to do a number one? Why do you hang your butt over the seat like a hover craft and how come you assume the stream is hitting the water? Don't you ever look behind to see if you've hit the mark? If there are yellow droplets on the seat? Would it take too much time to look down and wipe off your body fluids before leaving the stall? That way, what the next person doesn't see won't hurt them, keeping our heads in the sand as to what may have occurred before us. If you're worried about catching something, cover the seat in toilet paper, and then flush it with everything else.

Think for a second what it's like for an unobservant, unsuspecting person to be the next in line and sit on cold wetness, then have to deal with the realization of what that wetness is.  Sickening eh? Denial sets in and you pray it's water drops from someone shaking their hands at the sink, but a quick calculation rules that out, too great a distance from point A to point P...... No, there is no hope of it being something innocuous. It's something unimaginable, a horror that can wake you screaming in the middle of the night.

I pride myself as being someone who learns from experiences but I've been duped a handful of times before I learned to closely inspect the condition of a toilet in a public washroom. The dim lighting can sometimes fool you. I think they install dusk like fixtures for that reason, to disguise what might be lurking about.  And if it's yellow, let it mellow only applies to water shortages and low wells in the privacy of your own home, not in a public washroom! If it's brown, flush it down, one of the most basic of life's skills and be thankful we have the technology to dispose of our waste, we could be living with a pile of it outhouse style in the backyard.

Airports seem to be the worst. Pee offenders flock there, no one gives a crap about a public washroom, they sometimes don't even bother to flush after a #2!   The most basic of tasks, taught to us as small children. No excuse at all for walking out before flushing. If you don't want to touch the handle, use your foot for goodness sake. I suppose that's why large establishments have automatic flushers, to make sure the job is complete! There is no scenario where I want to see another person's body fluids.  Sometimes in that long row of stalls there isn't one toilet ready for a squat so you have to get soapy paper towel, find the least offensive and take on the chore of washing the seat before sitting. I can only imagine what a CSI blue light would highlight in those small confined spaces........

So I am asking, pleading really, if you must hover, look back and see what you've done.   Just in case you really didn't know, I'm telling you now, if you don't sit you spray!   If we continue to live in a world that is afraid to catch something then please take responsibility, check behind you and clean up after yourself.    So that is why I don't offer my shop washroom to the public. I'm tired of cleaning up after people who just don't care. And don't get me started about the floating feminine hygiene products....

This past weekend, a mother and small child were in the shop and the 2-3 year old kid was in obvious distress, squeezing her legs together and whining, throwing herself on the floor for being tortured with yet another shop. My initial thought was how could a mother be dragging her baby around when she's clearly about to burst at the seams, but that's a rant for another day. I was asked if I had a washroom and I said no, then felt badly. It was too late for her to go to the public washrooms down the street or the Irving, so I allowed them in but asked that they please clean the seat, if needed. She promised to leave the porcelain pony as it was found and later thanked me on her way out the door. In the meantime, several people in the shop witness them going in and then leaving the bathroom and then all their bladders went into spasms. Personally, I would address the urgency before entering a store but then I tend to take charge of these things. I don't like to walk around uncomfortable, when nature calls I pick up the phone!

So now I am being asked from all directions for a bathroom. So I said no, and then the pleading began. At this point I couldn't deny the rooms' existence, it was seen when the door opened and the toilet flushed. So now in a difficult place, and against my better judgement, I allowed the room to be used. I warned that I didn't want pee on the seat and didn't feel badly saying it because I don't earn enough to clean up the bladder and bowel functions of strangers and I was feeling taken advantage of.  They weren't even rug hooking customers, just people off the street. I also stock product in the bathroom, have shelves filled with wool. The bathroom is there for our convenience and students when I teach, not a public free for all. There is a restaurant in town that doesn't even let people in their washrooms, and they get away with it because their tables are outside.....why do I have to pick up the slack?

Some customers overheard the conversation and commented that they find female public washrooms filthy, we all laughed, but it isn't funny, there is no punch line when you sit on someone else's urine or have to look at what they left in the bowl. And sure enough, one older woman went in and didn't come out for a very long time. Her friend pounded on the door to make sure she was okay. After about fifteen minutes she emerged and suggested maybe I run the fan for awhile before entering the room and I thought great.....I won't go into details but the plunger was involved.

I'm not mean, I'm just a retailer selling wool, why should a toilet come in to play and I have no time or desire to be cleaning up after irresponsible people that have no shame.   Golly, I just love cleaning toilets, said no person ever!!!!!!!!

2 Comments

Sweet and sour in the first hour......

8/26/2013

8 Comments

Lotus, what a beauty you are! 35" Dia.

Saturday was a mixed soup of sweet and sour. The first customer through the door was the sweet; Margaret Tupper sporting another hooked masterpiece of one of my designs. My goodness she's brilliant and I have a great deal of respect for her work. Her colour sense and hooking execution is tops.

I swooned at the sight of "Lotus", with its Asian influence. A floral delight, with a large Shou center motif and stylized Shou's along the outer border. This pattern was certainly conducive to monochromatic colour planning. From white to navy the colour placement was such that the rug just glowed and blue being my favorite, the rug spoke to me in sonnets. Well done Margaret, I bow to you!

I knew Lotus was going to be a stunner, I imagined all kinds of colour combos while it was still on the drawing table from pastels to deep saturated colours. I've seen a partially hooked version at rug school in pinks and greens and it was beautiful but to choose blues, be still my heart! What a way to start the day, like eating the cake first, topped with whipped cream and French vanilla ice cream with a wedge of the finest Belgian chocolate just because.

My eyes misted as they embraced the rug and it lifted my spirit to a childlike enthusiasm. Right then and there I experienced a creative rush and I could have taken on the world, hooked my own masterpiece, finish writing my novel, cleaned my house and still got to bed by midnight! I was super charged with an electric energy. It was going to be one hell of an incredible Saturday in the shop, it could only soar from here.

Thinking back it seems less of a coincidence that she picked that particular day to bring in the finished rug. At times it appears that the world revolves around my ups and downs; it was as if the universe knew August 24th would be trying, directing Margaret's hand to hook this rug with extraordinary flavour in time to save me from what would happen next, balance the sweet with the sour to come out on the right side of normal. Sounds sort of narcisistic and believe me, I don't really believe the world revolves around me, I'm just sayin it seemed like more than happenstance!

And then came the sour. The chain that dragged me into the darkness, destroying the bliss of moments before. The kind of customer that makes me wish I didn't have the shop, was at home with my hubby and pups, gardening and living the life of a princess, no stress and no fuss, just me and my rainbow. I'm not happy that people can effect me in such a negative way but I think we all cringe to greater or lessor degrees from an ornery look, hurtful words and disapproval. Really? Who likes controversy? I'm working on handling these kinds of situations but it's baby steps. Just when the world is going along peacefully and I let my guard slip, someone comes along and sets me back a page or two. I'll eventually get to the point where I can deal with the situaton without loosing my will to live but in the meantime I'm a balloon that looses its essence with a pin prick.

A woman breezes in with shields up, ready for battle. She was out of breath and annoyed that I was a bit late. And I had been.  I worked in the shop until 1:00 am the night before getting an order ready for pick up that morning and by the time I got to bed it was merging on 2:00 am and then I couldn't sleep because I was wired from buzzing around the shop at warp speed so I lay there watching the hours roll by and finally when I did fall asleep it was almost morning and then I didn't hear the alarm. Hubby and I figured out this Sunday that I've only had three days off in the past two months and I've worked more nights than not. I'm a bit on the exhausted side but you have to make hay while the sun shines and this is my busiest time of year. I'm not complaining about working so much but I'm not a Walmart, I'm only one person, running a little craft business, so if I'm late in the morning just know there's probably a good reason behind it.

Anyway, this woman came in with attitude, annoyed at the cutter I sold her years back. She told me it didn't work and her hooking group said it was definitely not a good machine.   Before I continue on this tale, let me peel back a layer to explain how I handle the sale of any cutter.  First, I inspect and try the machines as soon as they come in to make sure they are in working order. At the time of sale, I do a demo in front of the customer and usually teach them how to cut wool and they practice on a piece or two until they get the hang of it. If you buy extra blades I take them out of the packages and run my finger along the edge to assure the buyer that they are without any nicks and are sharp and smooth as a baby's bottom. I then sign the boxes and write on the date they are sold to prove they were inspected.

So this woman takes the cutter out of the box and I can see it's in sad repair. If this machine was a sick human it would have been in the fourth stage of a terrible disease and the last rights would have been performed.  It had been severely abused. The tension knob had been tightened on so hard I struggled to loosen it and I'm no shrinking violet, I've got an arm on me and as strong as any man my size. All the cutting kits and stirring pots have built my biceps to an impressive stature.

To give you an idea how tight it was, the handle wouldn't move and because of this someone forced it and broke the internal gear so that it no longer was tight to the shaft, the set screw was stripped and needed tightening with an allen wrench.   Even though it wouldn't turn, the handle flopped in and out of the housing, which is easy to fix with the right tool as long as they set screw isn't totally ruined. This was the least of the problems at hand.

Then the wheel was on wrong. I told her it was but she totally dismissed me. I took the wheel off and put it back on properly but she wasn't impressed. She wasn't willing to accept any fault on her part, the cutter was flawed and I was responsible. It wasn't tight to the base as it should be, almost 1/4 inch out which means it wasn't properly aligned over the roller ball so it only made contact with the right side of the blade. So she or someone in her group ground on the tension until it couldn't turn any more trying to make the contact between all three blades and the roller. She admitted the cutter worked until she changed the blade and that's when it went downhill. Well dah, the blade was put on wrong, of course it didn't work. We like to pick at men for not following directions or reading instructions but it just goes to show that some women don't read instructions any more than they do.  The cutters come with pictures to show you how to work the machine, backed up with words if you like written instructions.

I've never felt sorry for a piece of metal before, but this was a good time to start. The right side of the blade was so crushed the metal was white and twice as wide as the fine points of the other two. It had to have groaned and protested as someone tried to use it. There had to have been the smell of burning material, maybe the reason the metal was white.  And, with that kind of damage, I'll bet is wasn't 100% wool that went through it. I've seen some awful horror stories of what is done to cutting machines but I'd never seen this before. The wheel was toast...no sharpening would have saved it. It was DOA.

She asked what I planned to do. Her intent was for me to reimburse her for the machine and the two extra blades which she brought with her and actually pushed at my face.   She also said repeatedly that she had to be on the road in 15 minutes to get to the airport and it was clear she was blaming me for being late. Clearly I was ruining her day. I had been open for about 20 minutes before she even came in, you'd think she would have been standing on the door step waiting for me, not out having coffee or shopping if the airport was that urgent. It was all Chop chop! She wanted me to jump, the question was how high. Why she brought it in last minute in a huff I don't know, why not the day before when the conversation could have been less hurried or less stressful for the both of us. She'd been living in this area for months. But then again, maybe that was part of her plan for me to be flustered and agree to let her dump it on me and bare the cost of the repairs and shipping? But....I don't know and shouldn't assume. I told her that I don't fix machines, that she needed to mail it to Crawford Purdy in Truro and if she left her credit card I would gladly address it for her and have it shipped to her home in Montreal. She looked at me as if I grew two heads and said that mailing the heavy cutter would be too expensive for shipping. I told her that he was the only one qualified to fix the problems, especially to the state her cutting machine was in. It was clear she was fine with me sending it away but she wouldn't be paying for it herself. I said the only recourse was to arrange to have someone drop it off at Truro as it really had nothing to do with me.

Clearly insensed, she huffed about the time again, having to leave for the airport immediately, fretting that it was too heavy to take on the plane. Her friend suggested the woman leave the cutter behind with her brother. She headed for the dor. I said, "Am I right in assuming you expected me to fix your machine?" She said yes, she felt I should have offered. I told her that I was not responsible for the damage, that she broke the cutter. I then reminded her that when the cutter left the shop it was in perfect working order but she was already banging out the door.  Am I missing something? Why would I bare the cost of the repairs and shipping. Judging what was needed to resusitate it, with mailing costs it would have been at least $200 or more for parts and labour.

Another customer unfairly angry when I did absolutely nothing to deserve the bad press I will get from her wagging tongue.    She mentioned several times the group she hooks with told her to bring it back to me as it was defective so the negative jam is on already spread. I know I can't control what people say, but it rots my socks!   I work so hard to offer top quality and dependable products, to be maligned unfairly hurts my business and is the reason why I am telling my side of the story....hopefully it helps to balances things in the universe. This whole thing was beyond my control...like being attacked with a knife in the dark, you don't know when it will hit, or see it coming, but it sure hurts when it does!

What kind of world do we live in when you can break something and then take it back to the store to demand a refund. I don't live in this world. I would never do that in a million years to anyone. My mistake, my consequence, make your bed and lie in it was our family motto. Maybe you can get away with that at Canadian Tire with all their insurance and multi-millions or billions in sales every year, but I can't afford to clean up mistakes I haven't made. I'd be out of business! Some customers I can't afford to have and dealing with them absolutely knocks the wind out of my sail. I find myself traveling back to tougher times, my former life when I was a victim of an ruthless lout.   I'm still working on growing a backbone but it's one vertebrae at a time and like Rome, isn't going to be built in a day.

So the woman left not willing to take ownership for the damage to the machine, thoroughly disgusted with me and will never shop in my store again, probably her friends will agree so the boycott begins. The banging door caused my shoulders to droop, my head to sag and the joy of the morning drained like an unstopped tub.

Margaret, still perusing the patterns, had overhead the conversation and said kind words, telling me the woman was out of line. She said people like that make her angry. I got a hug and that made me feel better. I took another look at Lotus until I was able to smile. If Margaret hadn't been there to save the day with that gorgeous rug  and sweet hug, I would have been absolutely doomed and probably dragged the black cloud home to ferment in misery for the rest of the evening.    One of these days I want that kind of negative situation to run off my back, I want to laugh at the silliness of it all, not beat myself up for things out of my control. I'm trying to elimiate stress through positive thinking and hard work, I'll get there eventually, if not, I guess I'll die trying..........

8 Comments

Please don't tax me when I sales tax you!

8/22/2013

11 Comments

I’m going to discuss something that disturbs my sense of patriotism. But just to be clear, I’m not some kind of freakish do gooder, straight as an arrow, squeaky clean, goodie two shoes. I have my faults like everyone else; I jay walk, cuss a bit, have a heavy foot on the open highway and tip my elbow for special occasions, but on the whole, I generally obey the laws of the land, don’t lie or steal and appreciate this great country beneath my feet.   It’s not that I take this problem personally, I’m not responsible for the decisions of others, I just don’t like being put in a position to defend my own principles or be made feel stupid because I like to stay on the legal side of prison bars.

Asking me to sell goods without charging sales tax is not an option in my shop, so please don't ask.   I’ve been bullied and basically called foolish for not partaking in stashing cash because apparently as the words have implied “everyone is doing it”. If this statement were true, no wonder schools close, programs are cut, highways don't get mended and jobs are in jeopardy. I personally don’t believe that statement to be true and if it is, that would be very sad for everyone in this country. But in the meantime, instead of being applauded for being honest, hardworking and supportive of this nation we live in, I've been asked to go against the grain and do something I’m not comfortable with.

Over the years I’ve heard a few shady things but I've stood my ground. One woman, a school teacher, asked me to write her a receipt for $300.00 for a beginner class and then she would buy things in my shop and get reimbursed when back to work. No wonder the world is in trouble if the masses cheat the system. I said no, I wouldn’t feel comfortable doing this and she walked out of the store. There was a part of me that wanted to phone her school to snitch but I can’t fight battles that aren’t mine.   I keep my nose clean, mind my own business in the hopes that others will do the same; I have no interest or energy to take on the world. A hungrier retailer might have succumbed to the chance to make a sale but I have to do what I believe in to keep my head high. I wondered why a complete stranger felt so comfortable asking for such a dishonest favour? Perhaps she’d done it before, after all it was no skin off her back if I said no, and if I said yes, she would be the benefactor of some free goods.

Recently I was told by a customer’s husband that he refuses to pay tax because the government left him behind in Vietnam to die. His story was that “the government” wouldn’t spend the money to gas up a helicopter to come in and save him. I didn’t ask for details, even though I was a bit confused knowing that Canadian’s weren’t in that war, but hubby tells me that mercenary soldiers had the option to go to the states and sign up, which begs the question, why was he so pissed at our government? Regardless, trying to get out of paying tax is not a slight on the government. It’s a slight on the people. We elect the government to run our country…people think the government is separate from the people, but it is one in the same. You aren’t just cheating the big man at 24 Sussex out of a lobster dinner, which is what I am told repeatedly, you're ripping off all your fellow citizens. And yes there are politicians who are dishonest and pad their expense accounts, we hear it on the news, and those who take kick backs and so on, but that is where two wrongs don't make a right come in. I believe we all do what our conscience allows, and mine doesn't care about a bit of corruption in the system, there are laws to take care of that, I have to believe that most of our elected officials are honest and in the meantime, I have to live with me and what I feel comfortable with.

I only succumbed once because of a sob story attached to the demand and after they left I voided the slip, made out a proper one and paid the tax on the items myself, all the while swearing an oath never to do it again.   I felt as crooked as a bonsai branch and a bit ill in my stomach. I worked for an accounting office once and witnessed a few corner cuts, borderline shady things and I never liked it. I don't even cheat on my income taxes which might made me a freak but I'm a freak that sleeps nights.

I'm told to write things on the sales slip as damaged and broken, sell them for reduced prices and then pocket the rest in cash, sigh, how does anyone keep it all straight. How do you know how much money you've made at year end if it isn't all accounted for legitimately. I don't have the time or inclination to keep a second set of books.   Really I couldn't get up early enough in the morning to come up with ways to cheat the system.

A woman bullied me several times to sell her goods without tax. Being a business woman herself, I was surprised that the concept of inventory in, inventory out didn’t matter. She would say things like, "I’ll buy this hook but I’m not paying tax." matter-of-factly, leaving no room for negotiation. No tax, no slip. If I'm audited where am I supposed to say the products went when there is no slip to prove it went out the door?

This woman told me that everyone does it and I’m foolish not to pocket cash from the business. She told me I didn’t understand the process and after being pummeled with the reasons I should do it and how I didn't understand how the process words, I asked to be enlightened and she obliged. Example: The deal was for me to sell a$30.00 retail priced item to her at cost, say $20.00. The sale’s slip would reflect the tax of $3.00 for a total sale of $23.00. Then she would hand me cash of $7.00 to make up the difference to total the full retail price of $30.00.   So she saves $4.50? And I feel like crap? Forget it!

My comment was, who in their right mind would sell items for cost? If I was ever audited that would send up a red flag. She said I won’t be audited and even if they did they wouldn’t care. I was quite surprised; I didn’t realize she was a practicing clairvoyant. Somewhere down the road cheating would bite me in the arse as quick as a flea on a dog, and I’d be stuck paying the tax for those items and probably fined as well, but there was no thought or care about that. One thing an auditor isn't....stupid......they've seen and heard it all so what makes the little shop owner think they can get away with financial indiscretions. I might not be the most savvy business woman in the world but I like going to bed without fretting if I'll get caught doing something underhanded. I’m hardworking and honest, my books are legit and I'm proud of that fact!!!!

I was getting pretty annoyed and the more I protested the more I felt like the word “stupid” was on the tip of her tongue. Instead of saying to me, Wow Christine, I have to say I’m impressed that you’re so honourable,” Instead she’s telling me I’m foolish not to stuff as much cash in my pocket as possible. She says she pays enough tax and doesn't feel she has to pay extra for recreational items.   Well if that’s how she feels it’s her cross to bear, just don’t ask me to compromise my standard.

My closest friends buy supplies from me and I don’t sell under the table or give them tax breaks, why would I do that for a stranger or just a casual acquaintance? Who would risk a shit storm reigning down on their business for some random person on the other side of the counter? Who's to say they don’t work for Revenue Canada testing the waters? Why would anyone take chances when the penalties and fines could cripple you financially?

I am so happy to wake in the morning to the sound of birds chirping in the trees, rising from a peaceful night’s sleep with not a care in the world. The biggest quandary of my morning is how to cook my eggs.  So many people around the world aren’t as lucky; they wake to mortar fire and the screams of their sons dying in the streets. Some people wake with gut burning hunger left over from the day before, knowing there is nothing to feed their children. People, and lots of times, small children work in sweat shops from the break of dawn to sunset, how they would love to live in a country where the water is clean and they have rights to prevent these atrocities. Living in Canada we are free, and freedom costs which I don’t mind helping to pay for.......

11 Comments

Today is rant Monday!

4/15/2013

3 Comments

"The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off" Gloria Steinem

I just found this blog in my draft folder. I'd written it awhile ago when I was still puffed like a threatened cobra. I've pared it down and cleaned it up and left just enough to get the point across without all the venom I felt when it happened. Every now and then a good rant cleans the pipes. Life is filled with ups and downs and when you're in business sometimes you see a bit more of the shadier side of life.

Two customers came into the shop and spent an hour looking at every pattern in the store. Not to buy, to copy. Once they found "the one", they wanted to get the feel for the size before they went home and copied it off the internet. I was listening to their comments and I gathered from their conversation that between them and one another partner in crime, they'd recently copied at least seven of my designs. One of the three was on her third copy of a particularly fetching pattern, hooking one each for every child and was now considering doing the same for the grand kids. I'm not some ostrich with my head in the sand, I know people are copying my designs, but how many grey cells do you have to lose before you say it in front of me like it’s perfectly natural to pass them around like a free for all?

I felt pricked, as if they stuck my soul and every bit of passion for this business drained out of me. After they left I stood in the middle of the shop deflated, wondering, why the hell am I doing this? I swear I try to think of all the wonderful customers who are honest, and I try not to let the negative ruin all the positive energy you’ve helped me build but.....and there's always that damn but....for some reason this drags me down into a pit so dark that I just want to slam the door shut and post a note that says, Closed! Good-bye! Adios! Hasta la vista baby! Sayonara! Les adieux! Au revoir! So long! Farewell! Auf Weidersehen!  And good bloody night!!

So I stomped upstairs, sat at the computer and wrote down my thoughts. Hoping for a bit of release from the lump expanding in my throat.   My fingers were like bolts of lightning, hitting the keys with contempt as I poured out my heart and anger all over the screen. Let me tell you, it was scathing! When I finished I felt as if I'd run a marathon. I was exhausted!

I read what I'd written and something said, don't post, step back, wait five minutes until the boil turns to a simmer.   Don’t be too hasty as people don’t want to hear anything negative about rug hooking.   So I walked away from the keyboard like a smoldering gun and managed to get on with the rest of my day.

You are probably wondering what I said to those women?   Well, I'd like to say I kicked them out and asked them never to return...but surprisingly I said nothing and I'll tell you why. I can read people and these weren't women to educate or mess with.   They may have been seniors and I could have taken them both with one hand behind my back, but they had a collective chip on their shoulder that I wouldn't have been able to knock off.   The one bickered over paying the price for a $2.50 scrap of burlap and the other one accused me of trying to rip her off when she asked for a yard of linen and I said it was $32.95. She eyed me suspiciously and said, "How come my friend was just in and she only paid $16.00?"   It was said like I was some kind of crook, making up prices as I went along.  I told her that it was probably burlap, not linen. She didn't apologize for her sharp tone, just said a begrudged "oh" and then hummed and hawed over paying the price for linen. Her friend said, "Linen ain't rough, ya know ya hate burlap." So she handed over her credit card and we completed the sale and she grabbed up the bag haughtily as if the entire experience offended her.

I could tell my little copyright speech would have gone in one ear and out the other, not making an ounce of impact and I also sensed I might have come out at the shitty end of the stick. They had an edge like the world was out to get them and they were ready to come out guns a blazing if someone crossed their path.    And they both acted like they could cut the head off a chicken without blinking and I was out numbered...... I think their last names might have been Hatfield and McCoy?

Anyway, I’ve been complaining for years I don’t make enough money to pay myself a salary. The business has overhead and employees to support so there was never anything leftover for me. So I can't help thinking.....if I had all the money for the patterns that have been copied from the website or duplicated and passed around off legitimately purchased ones, I might have been able to financially compensate myself for all the hard work I do. And maybe my husband wouldn’t have to bail me out at year end because I’m in the red again.  My accountant says, I always cry when I get my taxes done even though I don't have to pay in....well I would give anything to pay a crap load of taxes to the government…it would mean I'm making profit!!!!.

The rug hooking business might look glamorous and pardon my bias, my shop is beautiful beyond words, but in thirteen years it hasn't afforded me any kind of monetary gain. It’s a craft business in a small population based area, not a large center with unlimited people crossing the threshold. If I wanted to work 24 hours a day and do everything myself maybe I could draw a pay cheque but I can’t physically do it all so I work for the occasional slap on the back and please know I'm not bitching about this, it is what it is and I love my shop and what I do!

Anyway, this is the scaled down version, edited until unrecognizable from the initial, internal explosion.   I couldn’t let the incident go by without ranting a bit but I tamed it for those who still believe the glass is half full.  I'm in retail so I'm on the slightly jaded side of things after thirteen years in business witnessing curl your toes moments......maybe I'll slip a story out every now and then just to be scandalous but not mentioned any names to protect the guilty and least deserving. I always tell it like it is and can’t stop now and even though I get upset when something happens I still like to make it into a humorous story because that's the way I compartmentalize stress. Isn't that how most comedians get their shtick?

So I would like to take this opportunity to appeal to anyone who has done this, plans to do this or knows someone who does this....please, please, please…if you are copying my patterns or anyone's for that matter, please stop!  The shops can only survive in this business if they are supported.  Every pattern copied is a shovel of dirt on their company's grave.    To those of you who come by patterns legitimately,  every rug hooking shop and designer salutes you!

And then low and behold, a gentlemen emailed me the other day to ask what I would charge if they copied some elements of one of my designs and incorporated their changes.   I almost fell off my chair!!! This was the first time anyone in thirteen years had asked the question. I was floored and didn't respond for two days because I had to get my head around his complete and utter honesty.  We chatted and settled on an arrangement, and then believe it or not, two days later someone else contacted me with a similar question. Maybe being on Facebook and writing these blogs is making me more of person than a faceless retailer.......maybe in this case familiarity breeds respect.