I ain't no physicist, but I know what matters. And what matters when getting a haircut is courteous behavior, don't you think? Well, I have noticed a troubling trend among Fantastic Sams' customers, or clients, as they say in the hair biz. I've been to Fantastic Sams twice. Both times I was getting my daughter's hair cut and both times I witnessed a disturbing incident. Incidentally, both times her hair turned out super cute:
The first time was about a year ago. We were waiting for Maggie's appointment and this gross guy with a leather jacket was getting his hair cut. I was eavesdropping, as is my custom. He was showing off and talking about how cool he was. He was of a wilder nature than the lady cutting his hair. This was obvious to me but, apparently--he thought they might be each others' type so he asked her out. She politely declined and awkwardly continued to cut his hair. He became angry and started swearing at her while she cut his hair which was, incidentally, receding severely. He told her that he made a lot of money and had a date anyway and when I say that he said this, I don't mean that he suggested this or tried to give her this impression through various hints. I mean that he literally said, "I make a lot of money," but he included more swear words--the worst ones.
It was really quite horrible. I ain't no doctor, but I know when I'm losing my patience. So I rolled my eyes and made a disapproving face whenever he looked at me. It was, of course, one of those times when I wish I had done more--starting with me approaching him and saying, "Look buddy. . ." Unfortunately--just like when I wanted to wear that Captain America costume last year--I didn't have the physique for it. She broke into tears after he left. It was a scene, man. And then I was like, uh, how about a chin-length bob?
Then last Saturday as I was waiting for Maggie to get her hair cut, I was watching this pre-teen, or tweeen as they're called in the marketing biz, get her hair done. She was waiting for her mom to pick her up and pay for the hair cut. I formulated a few hypotheses about this girl's fashion intuition, self-esteem, and general acceptance among her peers. I was intrigued. She had blue vinyl clogs, white legs, a long pleated denim skirt, and a ruffle-y tank top that she kept stretching down because it was cropped. (My legs are white too; I'm offering an accurate description, not a judgement.) She had a lot done to her hair because it ended up costing 42$ which is pricey for Fantastic Sams.
She seemed happy with her hair, but anxious. When her Klinefelter's Syndrome of a mother arrived, it was clear that this girl has a lot more than anxiety to contend with. The mom was huge and awful and grumpy and wearing black orthopedic shoes. She really seemed like a lunch lady but, in my experience, lunch ladies are always nice once you get to know them. And they don't drive brand new silver Subaru Forresters. That was weird. Anyway, the mom immediately threw a fit because the girl's hair wasn't dry. Hello? They never dry your hair at Fantastic Sams. You're lucky if they even wash it for you. "I wanted it dry so I could see it!" she bellowed. "She wants you to dry it,"cowered the girl in an attempt at mediation. Bewildered and frightened, the hairstylist remained speechless but turned to get the hair dryer. (They have them in the back, I guess.) With a huff and a puff and a slam of gigantic proportion the lady slapped down some money. Now here was a situation where I could help. I was just about to utter, "It's so cute! I love her hair! Wet or dry it's perfect and so becoming!" But she blew out of there before the stylist even came back with the dryer.
When the stylist did return, once again I was there to comfort and roll my eyes over the scene which had taken place. Now, I ain't no statistician but two out of two visits to Fantastic Sams equals 100% abuse. What's the deal?
When you pictured the mom's shoes, did you picture them like this?