Okay, so, my yarn shop closed at the end of September. I don't want to mention the name here because I am still pretty bitter about it, but clever readers will find it easily enough in previous posts. I worked there for fifteen months, and absolutely loved it for the first twelve. Once it became clear to us that the owner would not be ordering new yarn or notions ever, it just wasn't fun anymore - for us or our customers.
The shop did not have to close. It was a small, narrow space, stocked to the gills with colorful yarn and beautiful hand-knit sweaters and scarves and baby things. People who came in for the first time sometimes stopped in the doorway, just taking it all in. The shop was in the upscale shopping area of a wealthy little community, and the local ladies just loved it. We held classes and helped customers who came in with a dropped stitch or a new pattern they couldn't quite puzzle through. We helped them chose yarn for new projects. Hell, we helped them chose the new projects.
We loved working there. We loved working with each other. All except for the owner. She came in less and less frequently, and finally, not at all, as she moved to another part of the country. We ran the shop without her, but could not make the purchases that needed to be made. We were hard-pressed to explain to our customers why we still hadn't re-ordered the yarn they needed, and, no, we couldn't special order it for them. In the end, the only thing we could think to do was quit. So we did. En masse. That's when she decided to close the shop.
She came back to clear out the store, and I heard her telling our surprised and saddened customers that it was the fault of the tough economy and the mean management company, but that wasn't the truth. She didn't care and she lost interest, and something that was unique and valuable to a lot of people is gone. Yeah, I'm one of them. But, hey, I'm working through it. I'll get over it.