Hairdresser, Nevermore

May 11, 2011 20:36


As a treat to myself before heading on holidays, I'd decided months back that I'd get myself a professional haircut. Usually I have The Husband cut my hair, or, when possible, Mars has a go at it in her basement with a pair of rusty shears - both do a top notch job. But this time I thought I'd indulge in a little girliness and actually pay some buck for my bang...s.

Yelp never lets me down, and I'd noticed a cute little place on the way home from work - a bit of research and I was decided. Better yet, they had a special of a hair cut, with a half-price dye job on Wednesdays for new customers. Going by their price chart, I was looking at roughly $100 including tip (more than I've ever paid for my hair, which is typically $0 - even my wedding cut and dye job was a staggering $60), but fuck it, it was a treat. I called and booked. This was way back in March.

So the hairdresser's name's Maggie, and she's lovely. She cannot give me the shade of red I want (box cost: $7 AU, American: not to be found), so we settle on a darker red. But she can give me bright red highlights, so she starts with the bleaching on my sides. At this point I thought I'd get a head start and begin calculating tip, because I suck at both math and tipping, being Aussistralian to the core. I ask her how much this will cost, and she says "$160". My heart sinks. Whoa. I was having kittens over the idea of $100, but had worked to justify it in my head over the past few months. $160 is serious dosh, and a little fucking ridiculous for something that grows out in a few weeks. I explain the situation to her, and she says she'll skip the dye job, I can dye the bleached parts myself at home, and she'll call it $100 even. Uh. So of course I agree, nothing else to do, and she later comes back and says the deal had expired which was why I'd be paying full price - I said I specifically requested the Wed appointment for the discount, and that I'd been told it was okay. She said she'd do the dye job and hair cut for $100, I'd still need to dye the bleach spots at home. This is all fine - a good compromise, whatever. But here is where the upset part comes. I was *apologising* for this, and feeling like an arsehole, while she was saying I was "lucky" it was her, and that her boss wouldn't stand it, and basically being made to feel guilty about the whole thing. I get the hair cut/dye job, pay $100, a $20 tip, and leave.

Go to Trader Joes. Get the guy who's a nutbar and I usually avoid, but the appointment has run way over and I need to go home. He's babbling to me about stuffing strawberries with brie, leaning conspiritorily over the register saying, "DO YOU LIKE BRIE?" Yes, I fucking like brie, a lot, let's go. My beautiful tomatoes bust their bag and roll all over the checkout. He starts buzzing for assistance, and I'm like, "No, thanks, I'm fine, I'm fine, I'll just take these!" but he insists and circus ensues. I get out of TJ's, and the heavens fucking open up and a deluge pours down, wind and rain so strong I'm instantly soaked and my skirt's flying up over my head. I grab my (paper) grocery bag and go to catch a cab. The driver is insane, and bunny hops me home. I've somehow managed to lose a $10 note in my travels.

Now I'm home, soaked, and have just dyed my bleached spots...bright pink. Not red, like on the container, but PINK. Aside from yellow, it's the devil's colour to me.

Anyways, that's my rant. Today was otherwise perfect, beautiful, happy, full of accomplishments and victories and nice things being said. I'm going to chalk this up to a really expensive and dumb evening, and go make myself a caprese salad with my bruised tomatoes and stupid pink hair.

xxx
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