The stickers can wait

A woman in Tabuk has been making crochet bags at home for months, and has decided to sell them at a weekend market.

So far she has not sold one.

Instead, she has designed a logo, then redesigned it. She has ordered round stickers for the bags, then decided they should be square. She has a spreadsheet of every colour of yarn, sorted by shade. She has arranged her table at home four times to see how it would look at the market.

Every one of these jobs feels like progress. Each is real work, and some of it will help. A tidy table and a clear price on each bag will make it easier for a shopper to buy.

But a woman picking up one of her bags on a Friday afternoon will not ask about the stickers. She will feel the weight of it, check the stitching, look at the inside, hold it against her shoulder and decide. Nobody at the stall will ever know whether the yarn was listed by shade or not at all.

Getting the basics in order is sensible. A seller with no price list and nowhere to put the money will have a hard morning. That much preparation pays for itself quickly.

Past that point, the preparation changes character. It stops making the work better and starts making it later. It is pleasant, it is safe, and it has the great advantage of never meeting a customer who might say no.

The bags are the work. The stickers can wait until the first dozen have gone home with someone.