Resistance is Futile

On January 2, 2008, a new receptionist joined Construction Inc.

Lovely woman. Sweet, kind, engaging, cheerful. Organized, methodical. All the good things a receptionist needs to be.

She was also a lapsed knitter.

Not anymore though.

Our receptionist noticed all my hand-knits, and could not fail to see me knitting in the lunch room or at my desk. She told me that what I make is beautiful, and that she used to really enjoy knitting. I smiled and thanked her for the compliments.

A while later, she came to me and said that a friend was having a baby (or a grand-baby, I can't remember) and wouldn't it be nice to knit something? I said sure! Google for patterns.

Later that day, she came to me with a pattern for booties off a website (that I hate, so I'm not linking it) that she thought was adorable. Could I help her?

Absolutely! I said. Then she suggested going to Wal-Mart to buy yarn.

Oops. I didn't handle that well. She was subjected to yarn lecture 4b, which states, briefly, that Wal-Mart yarn is crap, ack!rylic sucks and well, the product can only be the result of the materials, so use good ones, dammit!

I can only say, in my defense, that I was trying to prevent years of squeaky knitting. I've been there.

She, like any good receptionist, listened to me, and then ignored me, doing what was best for her.

The following Monday morning, she came into the office wearing a gorgeous fun-fur ack!rylic cowl that she'd knit over the weekend.

The joy on her face was something to behold, I tell you.

Then she told me that she made another cowl for her friend. And had another one on the needles... and wouldn't it be cool to knit socks?

I took my spare set of sock needles out of my bag, threw them at her and asked when we were going yarn shopping. I even offered something from my stash (I must admit, saying that hurt).

Later that evening at knit night, I was relating the part about how I couldn't give away my own damn yarn. The World's Greatest Yarn Shop Owner (TM) told me to just pick out something and give it to her, all ready (I think my story was getting tiresome).

So I did.

That was months ago.

After several knit-and-rip sessions, I am pleased to announce that, today, our receptionist completed her first sock.

It fits.

It has a few errors.

But it fits.

I'm so proud that I could burst. She's all ready talking about making a pair for her daughter.