I just came home from the hairdresser’s. Nothing major, the usual trimming and dye… so close to my natural colour, except for a shade of copper (suggestion of my Mum – they do know what’s best for you).
Well, here it goes. First, I escaped from the office – don’t give me a high brow – everybody does it in this country – then I took a cab (not a luxury any more) to get to the hairdresser’s, then I asked them (politely) to turn down the volume on the music that was giving me a headache – they complied – (As I was coming up the stairs I could hear the music from the street – terrible depressing jazz-wannabe, way too loud to be featured as background music)…. Then we get to the usual … three month trimming and dying. Everything under control till now ,… except hey, there is a new shampoo girl, looking very lost in the whole ambiance, and I am one of the two customers in the whole place.. I thought, well, this is going to be fairly quick and easy… and it went moderately well, her pulling my hair while she was trying to dye it did not bring tears to my eyes and I told myself I was lucky when she generously placed me on a massage chair in the other part of the saloon, but the humongous window was wide open, and with a raging wind outside it made my whole skin go goose bumps so I had to intervene – “Can you, please, close that window – I am freezing my behind off here?” I asked with an authoritative tone in my voice (if you ask in a placid, squeaky voice – it yields no result)- they complied… Now there .. I am a bit calmer, and am trying to entertain myself erasing old e-mails from my iPhone, while reading a trashy magazine, but the waiting seems never-ending …. Waiting for hair roots to get dyed … then for the semi-permanent colour to get to the rest of my long hair – the waiting is getting almost unbearable in spite of all the massaging impulses I get from their installed chair.. Rinsing time …the new girl has the clumsiest pair of hands I had ever felt on my skull – I am getting panicky, my face is getting a painful expression, but I bear with it with a hope of getting dried and out of there soon. By the time she takes a hair blower in her hands and tries to dry me, my face gets a very pitiful grimace of pain and the boss has to step in and I spit out: “Can I have someone else dry my hair please, she is pulling on it ” to which the boss scolds me: “What is wrong with you today, Ms B.” I feel as if I was in the first grade again, I lower my head in silence and I wait for the end of the act …. I am finally dry and let go, I pay the bill which equals to 10 kilos of meat or 40 litre of gas for your car… and they dare ask me what is wrong with me!! This is the treatment I get after 10 years of loyalty to the same joint in spite of their changing their address three times!!! Is customer always right?! Well, they should be!!!!