I was all set to write today's post as an update on my pi shawl, or doing 'A Day in My Life' (being it's the 14th of the month) or some stash flashing, but instead, I'm going have a vent. I don't do that a lot here but I'm still mad about something that happened last night at Stitch n Bitch. So here we go.
Naomi's had a vent already and no doubt there'll be other voices added soon enough. I also posted a complaint on a Canberra news blog, The Riot Act, where the fact that we are knitters has gained some interest. The usual sorts of stereotypes are being thrown around, but it's worth a look if you want to see, at last count, 39 comments on what people who aren't knitters are making of it.
So, to the story. The northside SnB meets monthly at a fine establishment called Tilleys. This month, we found out a day before that we wouldn't be able to go because The Whitlams were playing. Michelle called the place next door (The Front) and managed to get confirmation that yes, we could go there. They'd have us.
After an early dinner, Kuka and I arrived first and found The Front was closed to the public for a private function. Nevermind that the group had been given the go ahead to show up. That was annoying enough but we got on, as others arrived, with making other plans.
All we needed was to put a sign up with changed plans for the late comers and make our way to All Bar Nun, a pub one suburb away. Calls were made to those whose numbers we had and, with permission of one of the staff, we stuck a note on the window so we could be found.
A quick drive around the block to see if anyone else had arrived showed the sign was gone. Leaving Michelle in the car, I ducked across the road, spoke to staff again and arranged for another one to go up. No idea where the first one went (at that stage at least).
From across the road, we watched in disbelief as the owner casually strolled past the window (people were lingering outside with drinks), removed the sign and tossed it in the bin.
WHAT?
Naomi was parked on the curb and tooted her horn. Fists were shaken in his direction but to no avail.
The arsehole! The arrogant jerk! Why do that? Michelle is pretty sure it was the owner she spoke to on Sunday about having us there. Since he screwed up the arrangement, the least he could do was let us keep up one piddling little sign.
Great inconvenience was caused to some who came after us and did not have phones or numbers on them. Great inconvenience.
Had it been a clear, Spring evening, we'd have sat on the tables outside Tilleys and knitted to the sounds of the Whitlams. But as established in the last post, we had one huge storm last night and outdoor knitting wasn't on the agenda.
Needless to say, The Front in Lyneham is not an establishment we'll attempt to go to again. On normal Monday nights, it's probably pretty quiet there and maybe 10 or so beverage drinking knitters would give him some income and make the place, with big windows, look less empty. But nope. Stuff him. That sort of rudeness and lack of customer service is outrageous.
I'm still mad and I know others are, too. And I don't mind that I'm putting this out there. I hope if he googles his business any time soon, he finds this and other complaints. Not that arrogant arseholes tend to care what knitters think, I'm sure. But we talk. A lot. And we blog.
I'll leave you with something peaceful to look at, just because. My beans. They're growing on the window sill and I love them.
Bells
Bells
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