Haircut

Got one a couple of days ago. Cut I like. Salon, I did not like.

My hair got to be about halfway down my back. It was starting to get heavy and boring. I cut my hair like, once or twice a year... certainly not the recommended three to four months or whatever the experts say. Actually, I think my last cut was about this time last summer. Nice. So since the trips to the salon are a rare occurence, it's a big deal for me. I ask for everything to get chopped off so I can start all over again. My hair currently sits on my shoulders. Nice and short.

I decided to get my hair cut at a salon near work because it'd be so much more convenient if I just use my lunch hour and not have to go home, get the car, drive to the salon and so on. I had been to this place before for my summer pedicure which I wasn't too impressed with but I thought, feet and hair... different parts, different people.

I made my appointment the day of, going in person to tell them I wanted a cut at 12:00pm with a Director Stylist. At 11:48am, just as I was about to leave for my appointment the phone rang and they said there was a mistake. They had to push it back to 12:30pm. I was OK with the time change since it seemed like an honest mistake. When I arrived at the newly agreed upon time, I was taken to the colouring chair instead of the hairwashing station. The stylist asked what colour I wanted. ?? I told her I was there for a cut. She went to check the book at the front and front desk girl came and told me I was there for an updo. ??? I said no, I was there to get. a. hair. cut. There was some grumbling and such, no apologies for me, and a demand to know how and when I made the appointment and who I talked to.

After we cleared the air my stylist went to work. She was good, super good. She was fast and knew what she was doing. We didn't talk. None of the people there spoke to their clients. None of them smiled either. It was a surreal experience, like I was in some world of haute couture where everyone's so cool they're bored. Whatev. I didn't feel like small talk anyway.

When she was done I went up to pay. The bill was more than I had expected. Turns out instead of a Director Stylist I was attended to by a Master Stylist which means she's good enough that they charge me extra. I'm not opposed to paying what they charged since I thought she was worth it, but seeing's how I had specifically asked for an apple and they gave me a pickle it was unnerving. All the more so because they had screwed up every single detail of my appointment. To err is human but in this case they went errrrrrr and I didn't get an apology.

I paid but I don't know if I want to go back. I should be OK though, since I have a whole year to find another place to visit. Either that, or the anger fades in time and I end up back there again.

On a topic totally unrelated to hair, there is a light bulb on its last gas molecule, prong, whatever, above my computer which means it's exactly where it should be to drive me bananas. It's flickering and making the "tink, tink..... tink" noise constantly making it tremendously hard for me to concentrate on my work. I want to start throwing things at it just to shatter the tube and make it stop but then I'll probably get in a lot of trouble when the guy comes to fix it. He probably won't arrive until 3:36pm today, just in time to keep my last thread of sanity from blitzing out and causing me to go on a huge paperclip throwing, paper crumpling, chair spinning, plug unplugging rampage. Heh... remember Rampage? Sigh.. I have to find my happiness somewhere. With all the flickering I might start to think I'm suffering from a mini stroke or something. At least it'll provide an alibi for my climbing and punching things and eating people. What?