Customer service is a bitch. Whether working in retail, hospitality, education, or any other industry that requires people to interface with one another, dynamics of all kinds play out, sometimes in unpleasant ways.
Perhaps it will come as a surprise to non-knitters that the yarn world provides no exceptions to this rule, since they tend to see all knitters and crocheters as old, stodgy, camphorous grannies.
All stitchy folks can recount their own catalog of crazy encounters with the oodles of snoots, cranky coots, and crochet naysayers in our respective klatches.
And I was pretty sure that working in a yarn shop was the only way to see the ugliest sides of knitters’ pride, like when beginner knitters get miffed and suspicious if we suggest that while gorgeous, some patterns found on Ravelry, like the Olwen Fair Isle and lace sweater by Mary Henderson, could easily cost more than two-hundred bucks (and a year of one’s life) to make in that locally spun and dyed baby camel yarn…
…or when people who used to crochet thirty years ago come in to balk at today’s prices and blame us lowly yarn wenches–not basic economic principles and shifts in the industry–for their inability to work up a soft, cozy afghan for under thirty dollars…
…and, of course, there are those who have no problem walking into a four-thousand square foot yarn shop filled to the gills with every fiber, color, weight, and twist imaginable only to insist that we don’t have anything suitable for any projects…
…and then there are my favorites: the yarnies who come from near and far just to tout their knowledge and test ours by rattling off Ravelry pattern names as if we were walking iterations of the world’s largest pattern database and asking to see each skein of “teal, not turquoise” dyed by every obscure, indie yarn company–all of which we have, of course–only to hem and haw until closing time and buy one skein of common Encore.
But it wasn’t until I joined some knitting groups on Facebook that I realized how petty and small knitters can be.
As I’ve struggled through a dry spell with my stitches these past several weeks, I’ve naïvely looked to these cabals of knitting cronies for inspiration, and all I can say is…
The backbiting over fiber hierarchies, pricing gripes, and best methods reveals such a creepy, high school vibe–the familiar tribe mentality rife with the peacock-posturing, snipes, insecurities, and superiority complexes–that I have to wonder if this is what’s really going on:
Seriously, people: do I really need to remind you that it’s only yarn?
That if we treated each other this way at our weekly knit nights, we’d collectively stay home to avoid the weekly knit fights?
Of course not. We all know how to behave.
Check your gauge, knitters. Be kind. Unwind.
Remember that as with every other comments section on the Internet, on the receiving end of the snippy, niggling remarks in our knitting groups, there are people–fellow knitters, for the sake of Pete–with feelings…just like you.
Let me remind you that there are as many ways to do most things in knitting as there are people to do them, that we are all equally entitled to our preferences, and that we’re even entitled to be…wrong.
If we’re honest with ourselves, we can acknowledge that it reflects more on us than on them when we direct disparaging diatribes at people we don’t even know.
What can we gain from being unkind, aggressive, curt, preachy, or self-congratulatory in response to people who come to our communities to learn?
And I know: it’s frustrating when people clog our feeds with questions that can quickly, easily, and thoroughly be answered with Google, YouTube, or Ravelry…
…or when the posts are so maddeningly repetitive, objectionable, unintelligible, whiny, needy, or–okay, I’ll say it–ugly that they make you think…
I think it’s safe to say that we all escape to these online yarn communities for entertainment and relaxation, but for some, these groups and forums are the full extent of social life.
For others, the online world of crafts is the only accessible, affordable form of therapy available.
A portion of our community is disabled, another has special needs, and yet an additional sector is in straits that we can’t comprehend.
And we can’t possibly know who is who…no matter how long we have been knitting, no matter how much we spend or save on our materials, no matter how many “best practices” we’ve “mastered.”
So, the next time someone says something that you can’t get behind, remember: it’s much easier, much kinder, and so much more in line with a commu-knitty spirit to…
Here. Try it now. I dare you…and if you can’t resist, go ahead and troll me in our groups, on my Facebook page, comment on the Lucky Fiber Designs Page, tweet me, find me on Instagram, Pinterest, Ravelry, email, or better yet, take the time, expend the energy, and spend the money to mail me a nasty note: Lucky Fiber Designs P.O. Box 4 Candler, NC 28715…I’ll show you how the roll-and-scroll is done.