One of the worst things a stylist hears when a customer sits in their chair is "I want you to do my hair exactly like ______." I only know how to do hair like me, Kate. I have heard so many stories; "my stylist cuts my haie with two pairs of scissors, at the same time. My stylist blowdrys my hair with two blowdryiers. My stylist does my hair while stalding on one hand while holding the brush, comb, and blowdryer with his feet!"
I've heard it all. Many women go to hairdressers because of the way they make them feel. Like Fiona.
Fiona was blonde 50ish. She came in for a haircut. Fiona showed me a picture of the cut she got about 10 years ago by a stylist in California. I watched her eyes as she showed me the picture, she looked dreamy almost catatonic. Oh shit this is not going to turn out well I thought. The picture was that of a simple bob, slightly above the sholder. No sweat. We talked I cut she seemed nice. I call these clients the Jekyll/Hyde clients. They start out fine and snap at the end.
I finished the cut and I showed Fiona the finished product. She looked in the mirror and her eyes filled up with tears. Oh God. "It's ruined!!" she screamed. I calmly asked her what was wrong. "It's too long!!" What? Too long well that's an easy fix. Too short no, too long just cut more. "Ohh that's no problem", I tried to reassure her. I'll just take a little more off." "NOOO!" She screamed Fiona went in to complete hysterics. I could not believe what I was seeing, a 50 year old woman having a breakdown over the favct that her hair was not too short but too long something that could be fixed, easily. She stood up leaped from my chair and told me that I ruined her life and went to the front desk to complain.
In hindsight I was glad that she got out of my chair. I am a hairstylist not a psychologist, and once someone looses their shit in my chair I want them gone. They gave Fiona to another stylist who did exactly what I would have done, cut off more hair. Unbelieveable.
Saturday, December 22, 2012
Thursday, December 13, 2012
I Don't Have Time for This Nervous Breakdown
I Don’t Have Time for This Nervous Breakdown
I know some of you are thinking this right now with the Holidays approaching. Some years ago I had the displeasure of watching one of my regular customers have a mental collapse, right before my
my eyes. I have spoken to people who believe that they are too strong for that to happen to them. I believe that we are all three tragedies from losing it. A person can only take so much.
“Barb” has been coming to me for years. She has frizzy brown hair that she refuses to let me cut in to a nice style. Every month she comes in for me to trim her bangs, every two months I trim her ends all around. Dry. No blow out color (she used a box) just a little “trim” here and there. Barb worked for one of the major cell carriers she had a high level position complete with company car. She would always tell me how stressful her job was. Barb was always dressed conservatively; buttoned up blouses and a long skirt which is one of the ways I realized something was very wrong with her. One day she came in very sad, her father had died. She was very close to him, she was heartbroken.
I didn’t see Barb for a while I knew she had to fly out of town for her dad’s funeral. When she came back she looked so haggard, awful like she aged 10 years in the past 3 weeks. Poor thing I felt for her. She said the service went well and when she came back she lost her job. Holy fuck! I asked her what she was going to do and she said she was going to be okay. But still that’s a lot to take.
A week later Barb was back, “HI Kate!!” She was jovial so happy it was kind of weird. Barb was wearing short shorts and a very tight fitting top, very unlike her. “I want a makeover!!” “Okay great” I said. I really didn’t think anything of it, she would be job hunting soon a new look would do her good. Thank the Lord I could finally give her a nice style I hate box color. I cut her hair in to some long layers she had long beautiful hair it just needed some help. I put a few highlights in and covered the grey. The next week Barb was back, again. Too soon for any hair service she wanted to buy product. Her eyes were wild her hair was wild and her arms were covered with bruises. What the hell? “Hi Barb, are you okay?” “Yes! Great!” “I need shampoo and conditioner”. I told her what to buy she ended up buying $200 in product and hair accessories. I thought it was a bit strange since she lost her job, also more bruises. Something was not right I was afraid she was hurting herself. I wasn’t sure if she had a husband or children, but apparently no one was taking care of her. When she came back two days later I was scared. “Do you think I need another trim?” She reeked of alcohol hair not combed. I asked a few of my colleagues what I should do I was told by multiple sources to stay out of it, but I just couldn’t. That’s the problem with this business you form relationships with people and it’s weird. How do you watch someone self-destruct and do nothing?? I had to do something. “Yes Barb, let’s trim.” I got her in my chair and got her talking. She had a brother in Denver who was a partner in a law firm. Gotcha! I went home googled his name and found him. This was the hardest phone call ever what was I going to say? Hey you don’t know me but I know your sister and she’s kind of having a nervous breakdown? Well believe it or not that’s exactly what I did. His name was Alan, I told him I was his sister’s hairdresser and she was in trouble. I told him I knew about his father’s recent passing that got his attention. I explained about the wild spending, bruises, alcohol. He thanked me and said he was coming to take care of her. I hung up and felt that I did the right thing.
I didn’t see Barb for a long time and I thought she was never coming back. Then one day, she did. It was about 6 months later, and she was herself again. Her hair was pulled back in a clip long skirt blouse. She didn’t really tell me what happened except that she went away for a while and now she was better. I don’t think she realized that I called her brother the important thing was she didn’t hurt herself or anyone else she found a new job. I have since left that shop so I don’t see her anymore but I think of her from time to time and I hope she’s still okay, and in case you’re wondering she went back to that damn box color. You can’t win em all.
I know some of you are thinking this right now with the Holidays approaching. Some years ago I had the displeasure of watching one of my regular customers have a mental collapse, right before my
my eyes. I have spoken to people who believe that they are too strong for that to happen to them. I believe that we are all three tragedies from losing it. A person can only take so much.
“Barb” has been coming to me for years. She has frizzy brown hair that she refuses to let me cut in to a nice style. Every month she comes in for me to trim her bangs, every two months I trim her ends all around. Dry. No blow out color (she used a box) just a little “trim” here and there. Barb worked for one of the major cell carriers she had a high level position complete with company car. She would always tell me how stressful her job was. Barb was always dressed conservatively; buttoned up blouses and a long skirt which is one of the ways I realized something was very wrong with her. One day she came in very sad, her father had died. She was very close to him, she was heartbroken.
I didn’t see Barb for a while I knew she had to fly out of town for her dad’s funeral. When she came back she looked so haggard, awful like she aged 10 years in the past 3 weeks. Poor thing I felt for her. She said the service went well and when she came back she lost her job. Holy fuck! I asked her what she was going to do and she said she was going to be okay. But still that’s a lot to take.
A week later Barb was back, “HI Kate!!” She was jovial so happy it was kind of weird. Barb was wearing short shorts and a very tight fitting top, very unlike her. “I want a makeover!!” “Okay great” I said. I really didn’t think anything of it, she would be job hunting soon a new look would do her good. Thank the Lord I could finally give her a nice style I hate box color. I cut her hair in to some long layers she had long beautiful hair it just needed some help. I put a few highlights in and covered the grey. The next week Barb was back, again. Too soon for any hair service she wanted to buy product. Her eyes were wild her hair was wild and her arms were covered with bruises. What the hell? “Hi Barb, are you okay?” “Yes! Great!” “I need shampoo and conditioner”. I told her what to buy she ended up buying $200 in product and hair accessories. I thought it was a bit strange since she lost her job, also more bruises. Something was not right I was afraid she was hurting herself. I wasn’t sure if she had a husband or children, but apparently no one was taking care of her. When she came back two days later I was scared. “Do you think I need another trim?” She reeked of alcohol hair not combed. I asked a few of my colleagues what I should do I was told by multiple sources to stay out of it, but I just couldn’t. That’s the problem with this business you form relationships with people and it’s weird. How do you watch someone self-destruct and do nothing?? I had to do something. “Yes Barb, let’s trim.” I got her in my chair and got her talking. She had a brother in Denver who was a partner in a law firm. Gotcha! I went home googled his name and found him. This was the hardest phone call ever what was I going to say? Hey you don’t know me but I know your sister and she’s kind of having a nervous breakdown? Well believe it or not that’s exactly what I did. His name was Alan, I told him I was his sister’s hairdresser and she was in trouble. I told him I knew about his father’s recent passing that got his attention. I explained about the wild spending, bruises, alcohol. He thanked me and said he was coming to take care of her. I hung up and felt that I did the right thing.
I didn’t see Barb for a long time and I thought she was never coming back. Then one day, she did. It was about 6 months later, and she was herself again. Her hair was pulled back in a clip long skirt blouse. She didn’t really tell me what happened except that she went away for a while and now she was better. I don’t think she realized that I called her brother the important thing was she didn’t hurt herself or anyone else she found a new job. I have since left that shop so I don’t see her anymore but I think of her from time to time and I hope she’s still okay, and in case you’re wondering she went back to that damn box color. You can’t win em all.
Sunday, November 18, 2012
I Know Your Hair Is Fake
I Know Your Hair Is Fake
Hair extensions, weaves, clip ins; many of us use these hair enhancements. But, most women don’t advertise it. The worst thing you could do aside from walking up to a woman and pulling her hair is asking “is that your real hair?” Don’t do it, ever.
Enter Maggie a salon regular. She never gets her hair done only nails. It’s a shame too because her hair always looks slightly unkempt. Whenever I see her the phrase “rode hard and put away wet” comes to mind. She is a bleach blonde around 50ish, but like a 50 I’ve spent my youth drinking and doing lots of drugs. Her nose is always red, a sign of a hard drinker. She always gives me a creepy stare.
One day I was walking past her, she was getting a manicure. I smiled like I do to all customers that I make eye contact with. She beckoned me over to her.
“Hi” I said “Hi, I was wondering is that your real hair?”
“Yes” I said thinking you rude little bitch!
“Oh well my boyfriend is black” where the fuck is this going?? “And he says that all black women have fake hair.” WOW!
“Really?” “Yes, he really hates black women he only likes blondes like me.” I could see she was trying to offend me but I could give two shits about her boyfriend or what he thinks.
“I think your boyfriend needs therapy” She just looked at me. “Well not all black women have fake hair and it’s a shame that he thinks that.” “I have to go.”
Later her nail tech told me how pissed she was that Maggie was such an ass. “Do you know what she talks about during her nail service?” I was afraid to ask. “She talks about how her boyfriend wants her to take it up the ass but she doesn’t want to do it, his dick is so big she’s afraid.” Wow. Why do people think we want to hear this stuff?
So the last time I got my hair done I had my stylist make my weave, yes I said it weave a little longer. And whenever I see MS. Rode hard put away wet red nosed rude biach I think about her taking a big black cock up her ass. And she looks at me with an annoying smirk as if she’s thinking “I know your hair is fake.” My hair is paid for so that makes it mine, and when I am in my 50s I won’t look like you. Thank God.
Hair extensions, weaves, clip ins; many of us use these hair enhancements. But, most women don’t advertise it. The worst thing you could do aside from walking up to a woman and pulling her hair is asking “is that your real hair?” Don’t do it, ever.
Enter Maggie a salon regular. She never gets her hair done only nails. It’s a shame too because her hair always looks slightly unkempt. Whenever I see her the phrase “rode hard and put away wet” comes to mind. She is a bleach blonde around 50ish, but like a 50 I’ve spent my youth drinking and doing lots of drugs. Her nose is always red, a sign of a hard drinker. She always gives me a creepy stare.
One day I was walking past her, she was getting a manicure. I smiled like I do to all customers that I make eye contact with. She beckoned me over to her.
“Hi” I said “Hi, I was wondering is that your real hair?”
“Yes” I said thinking you rude little bitch!
“Oh well my boyfriend is black” where the fuck is this going?? “And he says that all black women have fake hair.” WOW!
“Really?” “Yes, he really hates black women he only likes blondes like me.” I could see she was trying to offend me but I could give two shits about her boyfriend or what he thinks.
“I think your boyfriend needs therapy” She just looked at me. “Well not all black women have fake hair and it’s a shame that he thinks that.” “I have to go.”
Later her nail tech told me how pissed she was that Maggie was such an ass. “Do you know what she talks about during her nail service?” I was afraid to ask. “She talks about how her boyfriend wants her to take it up the ass but she doesn’t want to do it, his dick is so big she’s afraid.” Wow. Why do people think we want to hear this stuff?
So the last time I got my hair done I had my stylist make my weave, yes I said it weave a little longer. And whenever I see MS. Rode hard put away wet red nosed rude biach I think about her taking a big black cock up her ass. And she looks at me with an annoying smirk as if she’s thinking “I know your hair is fake.” My hair is paid for so that makes it mine, and when I am in my 50s I won’t look like you. Thank God.
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
The Thief
I have never you been a fan of doing hair at home. Kitchen hairstyling as it’s called is inconvenient unless have a set up with sink and chair etc. I do not. But that hasn’t stopped me.
Enter Heather my then next door neighbor. Heather had 2 children worked and never had time to get her hair done. She asked if I could do her hair, I said sure. She had dark blonde hair highlights and haircut and blow dry $100. Very fair considering she did not have to spend money on gas, my back would be killing me after without the aid of a hydraulic chair and there was the business of bending ever the sink. Ouch. Not to mention my time is worth something.
It was November a week before thanksgiving and Heather made an appointment to have her hair done so it would be fresh for the holidays. No problem. I got everything ready and I waited. Her appointment was for 1:00. By 3:00 I called now pretty pissed off.
“HI Heather”
“OH hi”
“I just need to know if you’re still coming to get your hair done”
“OH yeah, I forgot. I’ll be right over”
I could tell something wasn’t right. I just had a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I shrugged it off and moved on.
She came over I did her hair highlights cut blow out same as always. When I was all finished she said “oh I went shopping this morning and spent all my money.” “Ok if I pay you tomorrow?”
The proper thing would have been for her to ask me that BEFORE I did her hair!! At least I would have had a choice. What was I supposed to say??
“Sure. No worries.”
Tomorrows came and went and still no payment. One week two weeks. Seeing her just about every day smiling and waving at me was making my blood boil. I asked my two close friends and my mother what I should do.
My mom and my friend Kay said “just let it go, what goes around comes around.”
My friend J who is kind of well, let’s just say very no nonsense said. “If I were you I would park a chair right in the direction of her house and stare that bitch down for a few days”. Then knock on her door and demand your money!!”
I’m not good at confrontation. Maybe she really didn’t have the money. Still she should have said something before I did her hair. I spoke to my husband about it.
“Do you want me to go over there?”
“No!”
“They have the money Kate.”
He reminded me that Heathers husband played golf. “I’ve seen his golf clubs, they’re not cheap and golf is not a cheap hobby.”
Finally I did the only thing that seemed right. We sold our house and moved.
Relax, we were planning to move long before I was robbed (the technical term is theft of services).
I was happy to be gone from the area. We moved in to a nicer house in a much better neighborhood.
A week before we moved Heather pulled up in a brand new conversion van. Starting retail $35,000.
I hope I never see her again.
Enter Heather my then next door neighbor. Heather had 2 children worked and never had time to get her hair done. She asked if I could do her hair, I said sure. She had dark blonde hair highlights and haircut and blow dry $100. Very fair considering she did not have to spend money on gas, my back would be killing me after without the aid of a hydraulic chair and there was the business of bending ever the sink. Ouch. Not to mention my time is worth something.
It was November a week before thanksgiving and Heather made an appointment to have her hair done so it would be fresh for the holidays. No problem. I got everything ready and I waited. Her appointment was for 1:00. By 3:00 I called now pretty pissed off.
“HI Heather”
“OH hi”
“I just need to know if you’re still coming to get your hair done”
“OH yeah, I forgot. I’ll be right over”
I could tell something wasn’t right. I just had a feeling in the pit of my stomach. I shrugged it off and moved on.
She came over I did her hair highlights cut blow out same as always. When I was all finished she said “oh I went shopping this morning and spent all my money.” “Ok if I pay you tomorrow?”
The proper thing would have been for her to ask me that BEFORE I did her hair!! At least I would have had a choice. What was I supposed to say??
“Sure. No worries.”
Tomorrows came and went and still no payment. One week two weeks. Seeing her just about every day smiling and waving at me was making my blood boil. I asked my two close friends and my mother what I should do.
My mom and my friend Kay said “just let it go, what goes around comes around.”
My friend J who is kind of well, let’s just say very no nonsense said. “If I were you I would park a chair right in the direction of her house and stare that bitch down for a few days”. Then knock on her door and demand your money!!”
I’m not good at confrontation. Maybe she really didn’t have the money. Still she should have said something before I did her hair. I spoke to my husband about it.
“Do you want me to go over there?”
“No!”
“They have the money Kate.”
He reminded me that Heathers husband played golf. “I’ve seen his golf clubs, they’re not cheap and golf is not a cheap hobby.”
Finally I did the only thing that seemed right. We sold our house and moved.
Relax, we were planning to move long before I was robbed (the technical term is theft of services).
I was happy to be gone from the area. We moved in to a nicer house in a much better neighborhood.
A week before we moved Heather pulled up in a brand new conversion van. Starting retail $35,000.
I hope I never see her again.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
The Toilet Paper Dildo
She was so beautiful. I was a little intimidated, and it takes a lot to intimidate me but I ignored that inner voice that was telling me she was going to be a megabitch and moved on.
Hello I’m Kate nice to meet you.
She smiled and shook my hand. We walked over to my chair. In my experience very beautiful women come in two flavors: nice and normal or evil psycho. To my happy surprise she was not the latter. Jane was a wife and mother of four. She was going out with her husband for her birthday. She just had her makeup done and now it was time for hair, my department.
Jane had an exotic look. You really couldn’t tell what her background was but you could tell that she was multi ethnic. She had large almond shaped eyes, full lips, and long curly hair perfect for putting up for the festivities of the night. Jane was so excited just to get out for the night a hard working woman just grateful for someone to be taking care of her for a change.
I asked the dreaded question. So, what do you do?
This question can bite you in the ass if the answer is. I’m a hairdresser too! And sometimes you’ll get yeah I’m a hairdresser so you better do a good job response. (Yes I have had asshole customers say that to me verbatim).
Hot damn! Jane worked in a women’s prison! What!? This woman was no joke. I am amazed at people that work in such places. I would be terrified. I have met people before that work in the prison system and some have told me they would never work in a women’s prison. Women are nasty. I’ve heard stories of guards having used tampons and menstrual blood hurled at them. She told me how jaded she was. Jane started out in a juvenile correctional facility. She would deal with 12 year olds who raped their 5 year old sister because their dad raped them. “I don’t trust anyone with my children”. Yeah I was thinking I don’t blame you we live in a sick world.
Jane said there was never a dull moment at work. I could only imagine. A few years ago almost all the women in the section became ill. They came down with “Trich”. Trichomonas is a very treatable S.T.D. characterized by itching, burning and redness of the genitals. Wonderful, the doctors couldn’t figure out how so many inmates had contracted the infection. Then they did… a toilet paper dildo. What?! One of the inmates made a dildo out of toilet paper. Just like paper mache they would wet and mold and wet and mold until they created this masterpiece. The problem was they were all sharing in its use. Hence the outbreak. Just when I thought I had heard everything, who knew you could make a sex toy out of toilet paper. I will stick to my Rabbit, and do my best to stay out of prison.
Hello I’m Kate nice to meet you.
She smiled and shook my hand. We walked over to my chair. In my experience very beautiful women come in two flavors: nice and normal or evil psycho. To my happy surprise she was not the latter. Jane was a wife and mother of four. She was going out with her husband for her birthday. She just had her makeup done and now it was time for hair, my department.
Jane had an exotic look. You really couldn’t tell what her background was but you could tell that she was multi ethnic. She had large almond shaped eyes, full lips, and long curly hair perfect for putting up for the festivities of the night. Jane was so excited just to get out for the night a hard working woman just grateful for someone to be taking care of her for a change.
I asked the dreaded question. So, what do you do?
This question can bite you in the ass if the answer is. I’m a hairdresser too! And sometimes you’ll get yeah I’m a hairdresser so you better do a good job response. (Yes I have had asshole customers say that to me verbatim).
Hot damn! Jane worked in a women’s prison! What!? This woman was no joke. I am amazed at people that work in such places. I would be terrified. I have met people before that work in the prison system and some have told me they would never work in a women’s prison. Women are nasty. I’ve heard stories of guards having used tampons and menstrual blood hurled at them. She told me how jaded she was. Jane started out in a juvenile correctional facility. She would deal with 12 year olds who raped their 5 year old sister because their dad raped them. “I don’t trust anyone with my children”. Yeah I was thinking I don’t blame you we live in a sick world.
Jane said there was never a dull moment at work. I could only imagine. A few years ago almost all the women in the section became ill. They came down with “Trich”. Trichomonas is a very treatable S.T.D. characterized by itching, burning and redness of the genitals. Wonderful, the doctors couldn’t figure out how so many inmates had contracted the infection. Then they did… a toilet paper dildo. What?! One of the inmates made a dildo out of toilet paper. Just like paper mache they would wet and mold and wet and mold until they created this masterpiece. The problem was they were all sharing in its use. Hence the outbreak. Just when I thought I had heard everything, who knew you could make a sex toy out of toilet paper. I will stick to my Rabbit, and do my best to stay out of prison.
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