I Need A Trim And For You To Shut The Fuck Up

12/23/2013 · 15 comments

in For The Love Of God,Social Services

Did I miss something about how you’re supposed to act in a salon?

I always figured that visiting a salon of any kind was a lot like visiting a restaurant–you’re paying skilled people to do a service for you while you are courteous and not insane to them. You don’t air all your Festivus grievances or talk about your whim-wham or slap someone with a clutch bag.

…right?

I’m asking because I’m clearly in the motherfucking minority here.

I never knew that when people show up to a salon, they suddenly feel like they’re in a cone of silence with someone who gives a shit about what they have to say. Every single time I’ve gone to my hair salon, I have sat next to a crazy person. Admittedly, I get into rather serious Harry Potter/Doctor Who debates with my stylist, but goddamn.

So far, in the last few months:

  • The woman on her first appointment to this salon who told the colorist, and thanks to her volume, the entire salon, about her son who is a rapper, who snuck a girl home and they only found out because she fell out of the window and broke her leg.
  • The woman who experienced such a traumatic birth that her “asshole and vagina share a symbiotic relationship,” and who therefore frightened me off birth for another few years.
  • The woman who told me that God did not want me doing comedy. God and everybody else who watches me do it, lady.
  • The woman who went to Las Vegas and feels she may have been drugged by her friends, but she’s not sure. She woke up in Utah.
  • Grace witnessed a white woman, getting her weave re-done, trying to connect with her black stylist by comparing herself to Lil’ BowWow, and then ordering a large pizza and potato chips and eating the entire meal while still in the chair.

What in the fuck is happening.

I don’t feel like I should have to say this time and time again, but here goes:

Other people in the world have to be around you. Don’t be awful.

{ 15 comments… read them below or add one }

ColinP December 23, 2013 at 9:17 am

Wow, and I am concerned that the folks at the barber shop I frequent think I am rude because I tend not to say anything at all (outside of my request to have my hair shortened and made neater). I mean I will engage in chit-chat if the barber has a topic they want to talk about but otherwise I just shut the hell up and let the professional work in peace.
ColinP recently posted..Requiescat in Pace Tony Scott (06/21/1944 – 08/19/2012)

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Bill G. December 23, 2013 at 10:06 am

I agree, that’s the approach I take. She cuts my hair, she’s not a damn therapist.

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Noa December 24, 2013 at 12:03 am

That’s as it should be. They do their jobs, we do ours (Shutting the fuck up).

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human kaszu December 23, 2013 at 9:45 am

wow, I can only imagine what you hear when you’re getting your brazilian done…

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Noa December 24, 2013 at 12:03 am

Me too.

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human kaszu December 23, 2013 at 9:48 am

…if it’s anything like my most recent merkin fitting, I blush to think on it…

…but then, I am somewhat refined, given the zeitgeist…

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human kaszu December 23, 2013 at 10:13 am

don’t these people have blogs?

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Bill G. December 23, 2013 at 10:57 am

Haha, I like tha!

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Bill G. December 23, 2013 at 10:55 am

I’ve been on the other side of this, too. I got a haircut from a woman who was recently divorced (there’s a big surprise) and went on and on and on about how the guys that she meets in bars are a bunch of losers and her few dates with them went badly. Lord jesus, what are we, girlfriends here? I just want a fucking haircut.

When the haircut was done, she was saying that she and some girlfriends are going to hit some bars that night. I said something to the effect of, “You’re about 0-and-50 with bars, maybe you need to be trying something different.” She got all pissy with me in front of a bunch of customers. Big surprise, her co-workers all looked horrified and I never came back to that place.

Another example of this is an aunt of mine related through marriage (so when she divorced my uncle, she was no longer related to me, which is a good thing). She was a hairdresser in the small town I’m originally from. She was constantly blabbering about what a horrible person my uncle was to the customers and all the stuff that he supposedly did. She was trying to fuck him up in town and all she did was fuck herself up. She got fired from the salon, got a certification to sell insurance, bombed out on that, and wound up leaving town.

What are these fucking people thinking? When people go in for a haircut or style or whatever, do you think they want to hear all the horrid details of a divorce or their lack of luck with the opposite sex (which is “clearly” their fault)? Goddamn, get a grip.

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Bill G. December 23, 2013 at 11:06 am

I love your 2nd-to-last bullet (“The woman who went to Las Vegas and feels she may have been drugged by her friends, but she’s not sure. She woke up in Utah.”) That is fucking hilarious. Pro-tip: you better seriously self-evaluate because you’re enough of a pain in the ass to have your friends roofie you.

I wonder what they told her. Probably something to the effect of “You got so shitty drunk that it took you this long down the road to sleep off the hangover.”

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Valerie December 23, 2013 at 7:44 pm

I love my stylist. It’s a tiny shop and he is the owner. I call him a cunt as soon as I walk in and he replies “This fucking bitch.” I always expect a unicorn to gallop thru whilst I get my hair done. It’s just that perfect of a place.

Hugs!

Valerie
Valerie recently posted..I am so sorry… Don’t even read this post. Protect your lobes.

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Noa December 30, 2013 at 1:02 pm

stop being so cool, Valerie. Stop it.

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Grace December 23, 2013 at 10:24 pm

I’m confused…when did this turn into bashing hairdressers? Did I miss something whilst eating my pizza?

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Kate December 27, 2013 at 9:56 am

I told my hairdresser that my 2 yr old cuts my (very hairy) dog’s butt hair with a pair of crinkle-cut scissors and now people look at me funny when I walk my dog because he looks really, really bad, and she laughed so hard the rest of the time I was in the chair that I thought my haircut was gonna come out really bad. Luckily, it didn’t, but now I can’t talk to her anymore about my kid because it reminds her of my dog’s butt, and she starts laughing again. Whew.
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Noa December 30, 2013 at 1:03 pm

This was so magical to read.

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