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.
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.