I got my hair cut like three weeks ago? I've told a few of you this story already, so feel free to skip today's post.
I'd been growing my hair out for awhile and finally decided it was just too stringy and frustrating to continue, so the decision to actually pay another person to cut it was made.
I walked into a semi-stylish salon I'd passed countless times. I walked in, asked if I could make an appointment and the lady said she could cut my hair immediately. (Clearly because my hair was looking that desperate.) I followed her across the salon to her own private hair-cutting room. I thought, "Wow, she must be advanced or something to have her own room." So I explain what I have in mind and her cell phone rings. She tells me she has to take it, whatever, I'm not in any hurry. She talks for a good three minutes, while I sit and peruse the room. There are photographs of quilts stuck to the mirror in front of me, an enormous quilt hanging on the wall behind me, a few framed pictures of different cats on the table to my right, and a few other less memorable things cluttering the space around me. She finally ends the call and explains that she'd had a bunch of cancellations for the day and had called many of her other clients to see if they would come in for a trim, that call had been one of them returning her call. I asked her if she had made the quilts. YES! Followed by a good ten minute explanation of her hopes of bartering the one behind me with the owners of a cabin in the mountains she wants to stay at off and on for life. She gives me the first business card of the day--related to her quilting.
Hair-cutting finally commences. She tells me how it's so hard to meet good men at her age (late 40's?), so she's begun internet dating. This led to quite a few stories of "interesting" men, as well as interesting stories about strange men.
A half an hour later, she's stopped to answer her phone about three more times and I'm left to look at myself in the mirror fully aware of the a-w-f-u-l haircut I'm being given. She dries and styles and I say it's not quite what I was going for, so she happily re-wets my hair and gives it another go.
It's at about this point she decides to mention she recently had unsuccessful lasix surgery on her eyes and really can't see very well.
Oh.
Kind of wish I'd know this an hour ago.
I pay someone to cut my hair like once every two years. Of course I happen to get the woman who CAN'T SEE.
At this point I start making excuses for her, like how my hair has all of these cowlicks that make it difficult to cut. Blah. Blah. Blah. Why do I do this? The woman admitted she can't see. How is this my fault?
I start pointing out uneven places and making suggestions. She started following my directions and three dry-style-rewet-dry-style-rewets later, I had a haircut that I really like.
At some point she stopped again to "introduce" me to her cats. A couple of minutes of learning about their different personalities and quirks, she resumes the haircut.
Before I left she shuffled through a drawer and pulled out three more business cards for her mani-pedi services, chair massage services and something else. Then I followed her out to the front desk.
She told the lady what to charge and chatted me up for a couple of minutes while the transaction was going through. Then she thanked me for my patience (this was nearly two hours after I'd walked in the door), gave me a big hug, tilted her head and said, "Thanks, Amber."
Ohhhhhhh, you're so welcome. I tipped her very well because A) I'm not sure how much longer this career choice will sustain her, and B) Amber will never be going there for a haircut again.
