Just what is it with me and the hairdressers?...is it God's punishment for my utter dislike of the whole performance, is it that I'm expecting too much in that just once I would like it to be a straight forward affair or am I justified in a modicum of paranoia beginning to set in!
Yes, again yesterday it was that day, the most heinous of days when I could no longer ignore the fact that my once well trimmed head was becoming something of an attraction for the local ornithological population as a possible nesting site......and so the much
dreaded and put off hairdressers visit had to be faced.
Regulars here will recall my
previous near disasters in these emporiums, where in my case, far from being pampered and preened I am usually subjected to one small aggravation or trauma after another. Not only is it bad enough that I have to be subjected to the horrors of the backwash, the inane
'where are you going on holiday this summer' chatter and the appalling coffee...no, for me there have of late also been various other 'attractions' to make my visit more
insufferable pleasing.
Things did at least get off to a better start this time
than the last in that I managed to find the place without making an utter fool of myself with the local constabulary but the situation began to degenerate rapidly from there on in.
Upon walking through the door I was met with a slightly strange look, you know, one of those moments when you just know something is not quite right but you are at a loss to place your digit on exactly why. I was greeted politely but then nothing, none of the 'can I take your coat' (ok I wasn't wearing one but hey...) or would you like a
utterly awful cup of coffee standard walk through the door questions. My stylist, Fiona, just looked at me slightly confused....before asking eventually if I would like to make an appointment!! This was
patently not a good beginning. Already feeling a degree of exasperation setting in I explained that I
had an appointment, at which she looked at her book blankly and returned 'no you don't'. Much discussion followed but eventually my being able to tell her with whom I spoke on the phone etc. a degree of belief gradually set in.....bear in mind here the place was almost empty and just getting on with the hair cutting business was not going to present a problem with clients queued out the door!! Finally the source of the error was discovered, the dippy bint who has taken my call had placed me in someone else's schedule, and things got under way with my being (now more politely) fastened into the torturous backwash.....oh my favourite moment, having the blood to my brain cut off for ten minutes whilst my head is subjected to various positions and usually unskilled attempts at head massage. Ten minutes, you gotta be kidding, things began to go from bad to worse!
This establishment is not the
most salubrious of salons, it's staff whilst nice, could maybe benefit from a little customer service training, I go there for one reason only, the girl with the scissors knows what she's doing.....those with the shower head are somewhat lacking in the finer points of attentive service and whilst being subjected to the neck breaking experience have a habit of talking among themselves over the clients head....and worse.
So there I am, completely powerless, draped in the various delightful gowns and towels, head bent unnaturally backwards just wishing the whole process could be over before my head falls off and her with the shampoo on her hands suddenly stops, dries her hands....and begins texting someone!! I begin to feel the possibility of a curt interjection here but decide to shut up in the hope that she will return to her task the sooner. Texting over she then begins a conversation about the content of the text with a colleague, a girl who looks about 12 years of age (ok, so I'm showing
my age)as the conversation progresses thankfully so does the hairwashing, along finally with the standard question, 'would I like a coffee'. In a state of beginning desperation I decide to risk it, at the rate this visit is unfolding I'm gonna need something to keep me awake! This prompts the twelve year old into some kind of action other than chatter and text and she unplugs the kettle situated in the same room and in one movement marches over to the back wash at which I am currently suffering my torture (there is another but she ignores it), grabs the shower hose from her colleague and jams the kettle under it for filling.....hitting me on the head twice in the process!! There is no apology, no 'Oh I'm terribly sorry madam are you alright', nope nothing, her reaction is that of someone who provides cranial assault as an extra service to each client! Ok, my patience is somewhat thin at this point and I feel it necessary to point out that this is not really an idea treatment...she did apologise, her customer service skills I thought were finally coming into play but no....as swiftly as she apologised she offered an excuse.....that the kettle wouldn't fit in the basin with my head .....FFS....
yes, I know sunshine, that point was obvious even to me it was my bloody head you attempted to remove in your endeavors, my sarcasm was lost and I shut up deciding that to point out there was another basin would only be further wasting my time.
Things settled for a minute or two and the head scrubbing began again in earnest as the kettle began to boil noisily in the background. Things were not to remain calm. Moments later my twelve year old abuser screamed and ran to the doorway shouting 'look at the cup' look at that cup'!! Shampoo girl immediately stopped shampooing
again and I struggled from my unnatural position....we looked at the cup, yes, sure as eggs is eggs it was a cup, white, pot thing with handle, hanging on a mug tree...we were at a loss to know exactly what it was we were supposed to be noticing.....twelve year old enlightened us rapidly in a near hysterical tone before running out of the room completely, all thoughts of my coffee forgotten. The mug was swinging gently in its place,now to you or me this might seem not to be a point of note but apparently we would be very wrong for twelve year old was utterly convinced that this was a case of the paranormal.....that the mug was swinging entirely unaided, there could be no other explanation than she was in the presence of a ghost...there would of course be no possibility that she had knocked it, it being in close proximity to the kettle and her other antics! She would not be convinced and remained dithering in the doorway .......Ok, so
enough already with as much calmness in my voice as I could muster I reminded shampoo girl that I was still dripping infront of her, informed her that a second lathering and conditioner would not be required and
please, could she just get this stuff off my damn head and let the lady with the scissors at me!
She dared to look slightly affronted at my tone but
at last did the necessary and released me from my torture! Oh.... and the coffee never did materialize but I thought better of risking a repeat of that debacle again!
Surely, just one time I can pay a visit to a hairdressers and it be simple....yup, paranoia is definitely beginning to set in!
Please note: gratuities were not bestowed!....but I have pre-empted the usual requests for a picture of the result this time. ;oP
