Perhaps I've worked a little bit too much in the realm of customer service, but I've acquired a very reluctant demeanor when it comes to taking up the time of people whose job it is (during working hours) to have their time taken up by me.
Call it silly, call it unnecessary, it nevertheless is.
Which leads me to yesterday's events.
I found that I had to go the yarn store; I needed to compared colors in real life and not just hope that my monitor and a website's camera were both calibrated the same so that I could make some informed purchases. I arrived at my nearest local yarn shop and, as per usual, I declined the offer of assistance when I walked through the door. I riffled for a bit through the sale section, got startled by another shop attendant while doing so (they're like ninjas!), and then made my way towards the Brown Sheep NatureSpun Sport. I was on a mission, detour aside.
So I plopped down in front of the display and began pulling colors to compare them to one another. I eventually found a combination that I found pleasing and was careful to put each skein back into the correct cubby to avoid confusion for future customers/sales folk.
And then I was done.
I rose and took a step towards the door. It was then that the guilt began. The nagging and the sense of being ungrateful for taking up floor space in the (admittedly large) store with my -brief- color comparison. So I wheeled around, piloted by the sense that I should really buy something, and inspected the shop's selection of cottons-- there had been two skeins of a cotton bouclé in the clearance section that were appealing to me but lacked sufficient yardage... no, no cotton today. So I looked over the Cascade 220-- nope, don't need/want any of that...
And it continued in this fashion. I'd pass a section, thinking maybe something would call to me and I could buy a little something to assuage the guilt I was feeling. I was asked again if I needed help: "No, no thank you. I'm just looking." I'd smile at that and try to ignore the somewhat bewildered expression on the saleswoman's face.
On an unrelated note, I tend to get strange looks in yarn stores. Apparently, being under 30 (40, 50?) in a yarn store means you don't know what you're doing and/or looking for.
I remembered that I'd been charmed by a pattern I'd seen on Ravelry a few days before-- Hanging Leaves from an upcoming book, Botanical Knits 2. Normally, I'd scoff at the suggestion that I should knit with laceweight as the pattern suggested... but I was getting desperate at this point. So I hunkered down in front of the Mountain Colors lace weight and perused the colors one by one.
I think I was making the shop ladies anxious... either that, or I'm projecting heavily my own feelings of unease on them.
Eventually, I came up with a pair of lace weights- a Mountain Colors and a skein of Classic Elite Silky Alpaca Lace. They're both very pretty, though not necessarily something I would purchase without the impetus of retail guilt.
I took my yarn selection to the counter, feeling relieved, and asked to pay for my purchases with store credit I'd previously accumulated. Of course, I apologized for having an unusual name that is difficult to spell and pronounce-- "Yes, that's it... sorry." It took the sales clerk a moment to find my store credit card, partially because my name was spelled incorrectly on it. "Yeah, sorry. Weird name."
With my purchase made, I quickly departed and found myself wondering what percentage of purchases are made strictly on the basis of guilt.
My friend recently told me that when she visited a country in Southeastern Asia (though, of course, I can't remember specifically which), she told me that if you go into a shop, you are compelled to buy something there. This is partially because the store owner proceeds to follow you around, asking you questions and trying to get you something you want, but partially because, as she explained it, the social contract there is that the very act of entering a store means you will spend money there.
Sometimes I feel similarly, especially small, boutique-style stores. Even departing with a cheerful "thank you!" after having looked around and found nothing to purchase leaves me cringing.
But maybe that's just me.
Still, I ended up with some pretty yarn and I'll be well prepared when this pattern does finally come out... hopefully, I can avoid too many awkward sensations of guilt between now and then.
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