OK...So I just had the most UNhappy haircut experience today. Finally, after 8 months, I decided to go for a haircut. Being new to the area, I had no idea where to go - where was good, what places I could afford etc...I called one I had seen and thought looked good, and they were booked for the day. Now - the smart thing to do would have been to make an appointment for another day. Unfortunately though, I had gotten it in my head that I was getting a haircut today, and once it was in my head, I simply couldn't let go of it.
There happens to be, across the street from us (conveniently placed next to Trader Joe's) a SuperCuts. Yes. It is the same Supercuts as in Canada. Similar to "First Choice" "salons." I decided - how bad could it be? I'll just go there, get a trim to be safe and see how it is. It will definitely be cheap, and well...maybe I'd find that gem of a stylist at the bargain salon (it has happened to me before!).
Today was not my lucky day.
First off, the person cutting my hair smelled strongly of a combination of a) Strong (not pleasant) perfume, b) Body odor and c) Cigarette smoke. Keep in mind that your hair stylist is typically in VERY close proximity to your smelling organs. I had to breathe through my mouth for most of the haircut. Thankfully, for this one reason, that was not a long time.
This brings me to my second point. A male customer, with very short hair, requiring little more than a buzz sat down with another stylist several minutes before me. I, might I remind you required a layered cut, taking off about 2 inches. So here's the surprising thing. I was done - I kid you not - about 1 minute after he was. Mhmm.
She snipped here and there, cut a couple inches off to be sure...but it all seemed sloppy and fast. But then, maybe I was just not paying attention - it had been a while since I'd had a cut. At one point, she had finished the "initial rough cuts" as I saw them, and I thought - ok, now will touch it up, even out the sides (one was about a half inch shorter than the other) and then style it dry. Then she turns the drier on my hair for 15 seconds, and says "Alright, have a great day, bye!"
I stared into the mirror at my lop-sided, damp, and middle-parted hair. I looked up at her, hoping for her to break into a smile and say "Just kidding!! We're no where near done!" She stared blankly back at me, clearly irritated that I was not getting out of the chair.
I stood up, walked to the till, paid, and tipped her mind you.
My immediate thought as I exited the "salon" was "I really shouldn't have planned to go grocery shopping after this." My second thought was, "Maybe it's not that bad...Once I blow dry it out properly and style it, it will be fine. I didn't really get a good look at it." So, I went to Trader Joe's, and my wonderful husband who met me there said, "You're hair looks great!"
After shopping, when we got home, I turned to him and said "Is it just me, or is one side of my hair shorter than the other??" He got a concerned look on his face, examined both sides and said "maybe, I'm not sure."
When I got home, I examined it in the mirror with clear lighting. And yes. My hair is definitely crooked.
WHY didn't I say something when I was there? Why did I leave, and pay, and TIP for bad hair?? I don't understand it, but hairdressers have this bizarre power. I shrink beneath their eyes, and their "so, how do you like it?"s. I simply cannot tell them I hate it. At least two times in my life before today have I paid double what I did today for a) A mullet and b) a mullet-esque 80's poof. Both of those times, it was like today. I knew, as they were cutting it, as they were finishing - pretty much all the way through - that it would be bad. Did I stop it? Did I say "I won't pay for this horrific hair cut!"? No. I said "yah, it's great!", paid them, and tipped them. Every time. So what is this bizarre power hairdressers have over me? Is it just me? Are you afraid of your hairdresser?
I want Hanna, my hairdresser in Victoria back. She would die if she saw my hair today!
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