Some of you may not know this, but I work for a certain widely despised big-box retailer which ought to remain nameless. I know that admitting this kills my knitting cred, because they are omg-teh-ebil! if Remnants is to be believed, but whatever. They gave me a job when I needed one to put a roof over my head, and they’re about the most civilized retail I’ve ever worked. Which is not to say that I like my job particularly, but it pays enough of the bills. Come to think of it, it’s been a good ten years since I’ve had a job I liked particularly, and that one didn’t really pay the bills. Hmmm.
Anyway, said retailer has something like 6000+ locations worldwide at this point, so it’s not too uncommon to get sent to another location to work on a special project or to help with training or whatever else might need done. So Monday I found myself working in the backroom of a store I’d never stepped foot in before, in a mall I’d never stepped foot in before. And do you know what happened when I walked out into the mall to get my lunch?
I discovered that I could never, never work at that location full-time. The damned thing is right next to an A.C.Moore.
Sixty-two dollars and change later, I am the proud owner of three new pairs of bamboo straights and something like twelve new balls of yarn. Gorram clearance is hell on my stashbusting plans. OTOH, I only grabbed what I have immediate projects in mind for. Now if I can only find another five or six hours a day…