Since August, I have been dealing with a headache of a return, for a transaction that occurred at Midwest Folk & Fiber. I had already paid the state of Illinois the sales tax that I collected for all of my transactions there. I contacted the Special Events division of their dept of revenue, and she made it sound like it would be simple to get my sales tax refunded for that transaction--just get a state business license and she could cut me a check. So I went ahead and refunded that to my customer.
Five months later, I am still dealing with the fallout from this. Right now, I'm still too enraged over the latest salvo from the state of Illinois, which I got today, to get into the details. However, I do know that effective immediately, I will no longer accept any returns on sales made at shows. I will accept exchanges for the duration of the show. (I am still determining how my return policy for online sales will be affected.) I think this change is fair, as buyers are able to touch and see my products in person at shows, so they know exactly what they're buying.
The other change I will be making is to never do business with the state of Illinois again.
Monday, January 24, 2011
Friday, January 21, 2011
my oldest WIP
Last week I visited my parents in Massachusetts. While I was there, my mother asked me if I wanted any of my old yarn. I couldn't remember buying yarn as a kid, but apparently my stashing instincts started young.
I think back then, given my 50-cent weekly allowance, my main consideration was price. Sparkly was a bonus. That must have been during my rainbows and unicorns glitter sticker phase.
"You can toss it all," I said to my mother. "It's all acrylic and I don't really use that any more."
"What about this skein?" she asked. "I remember you couldn't decide whether to spend that much money on yarn."
I stared at it. I couldn't remember buying it, why I would have wanted that color, or what I was planning to use it for. Yet my mother remembered me agonizing over it. "It probably cost $3."
"That was probably a lot of money to you back then," she said. I thought about the $70 skein of Buffalo Gold
in my current stash, which I'd thought was a bargain at $45 and bought with nary a flinch (though I did just get released from a vow of stash chastity). My, how times have changed.
But some things haven't. The bag included the beginnings of a project. Apparently at some point I decided to make a crocheted afghan. Didn't get very far, though.
Unlike some of my current WIPs that have been in progress for, oh, three or four years, I was able to instruct my mother to throw it out with the lot without a qualm. She wanted to give all of it to a local senior center, but that stuff has been sitting untouched for over 20 years and I would have hated to infest their yarn with any unwanted visitors. After having opened my clarinet case for the first time since 1988, to discover that tiny grubs had chewed away half of every reed in the case and had probably had a go at the instrument cork too, I was a little paranoid about the state of the yarn. Yech.
I think back then, given my 50-cent weekly allowance, my main consideration was price. Sparkly was a bonus. That must have been during my rainbows and unicorns glitter sticker phase.
"You can toss it all," I said to my mother. "It's all acrylic and I don't really use that any more."
"What about this skein?" she asked. "I remember you couldn't decide whether to spend that much money on yarn."
I stared at it. I couldn't remember buying it, why I would have wanted that color, or what I was planning to use it for. Yet my mother remembered me agonizing over it. "It probably cost $3."
"That was probably a lot of money to you back then," she said. I thought about the $70 skein of Buffalo Gold
in my current stash, which I'd thought was a bargain at $45 and bought with nary a flinch (though I did just get released from a vow of stash chastity). My, how times have changed.But some things haven't. The bag included the beginnings of a project. Apparently at some point I decided to make a crocheted afghan. Didn't get very far, though.
Unlike some of my current WIPs that have been in progress for, oh, three or four years, I was able to instruct my mother to throw it out with the lot without a qualm. She wanted to give all of it to a local senior center, but that stuff has been sitting untouched for over 20 years and I would have hated to infest their yarn with any unwanted visitors. After having opened my clarinet case for the first time since 1988, to discover that tiny grubs had chewed away half of every reed in the case and had probably had a go at the instrument cork too, I was a little paranoid about the state of the yarn. Yech.
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