Sunday, 27. April 2008, 02:22:29
(First of all I apologize for any spelling or grammar errors, my brain hurts. (Don't go there
Irreverand !) Secondly, there is some harsh language which may offend some readers. Be warned.
)
A couple of weeks ago one of my colleagues came into work with a new hair-do. It looked awesome. She has difficult hair, curly and she is going grey at a young age, but they did a really great job on it. Anyway, she told me I MUST go to this salon...the thing is, is that it's a hairdressing school. But, she said, the owner oversees all the work, and won't let you leave with anything bad. Besides, a cut is only $15! Sounds a bit better than last time. Now, I loved my hair
last time , but honestly, I can't afford it, so I've been putting it off for quite a few months now. Well, this seemed like the way to go. How bad could it be? I made an appointment for 10:30, fully expecting to spend a couple of hours; I know that students are often slower.
So, I get there. Parking is only for an hour out front so I decide to park at Safeway across the street. There are signs though at Safeway that also say, one hour only. I am taking my chances but what the heck.
The salon/school is busy. The young female students are dressed nicely, fashionably, cute hairstyles, nice colour. The clients are a range of ages and types. So far, it seems okay. I check in, and then sit down and wait. All of a sudden this young girl, I think she's a girl, is standing over me. Her hair is extremely short and dyed purple and pink. My first impression on seeing her is oh, they have a mentally challenged girl working here, maybe as a shampoo girl. I look at her hands. They are stained with hair dye. She reeks of cigarette smoke. I think to myself, I think I should leave now. Just leave... now.
Yes, she is my stylist. She is short and chubby and poured into stretchy white pants. They are too long and she has them rolled up. It looks like she is wearing a maternity top that maybe her mother had worn.
I'm not liking this. Why can't I have one of the pretty girls do my hair? Ok, ok, I don't like to judge people by their appearance, but hairdressing is an occupation that has a few expectations doesn't it? Is it too much to expect your hairdresser to be clean?
I should leave. I will just say, Oh, I forgot, I have to take my cat to the vet for her teeth cleaning appointment. So sorry must go...NOW
But, I'm too nice. I sit down in the chair. She brings back a book of sample hair colours. We choose something compatible with my hair. The owner comes over and approves. She thinks a bit more blonde would suit me well. I agree.
She leaves to mix up the colour. On the way she trips and falls and knocks one of the tables over.
She starts sectioning my hair off. All the way yakking away about her friend's baby. How the father isn't allowed near it and she has a restraining order because he threatened to kill them both. And she doesn't give a rats ass, a rats ass (She said rat's ass to me!) who he friggin thinks he is....yadda yadda ydadddda... But, the baby is sooo cute and she can't wait to be a mother some day. And she's gonna be a much better mom than her mother, blah blah blah. She says she has seen me somewhere before. I say no, you haven't. I'm sure I know you from somewhere. Do you know so and so? NOPE. Do you ever go here...here...to this place, to that place...NO. I really don't think you know me. Anyway, it's non-stop talking. It has me a bit worried because I keep thinking, shouldn't you be paying attention to my hair? I mean, it is "Sandy Hair". Don't you realize that I am a hair goddess?
Don't you realize that you have been given the gift of working on my hair?
Of course she has to go and tell me that she'll never work in a high-end salon. It would stifle her creativity. I'm thinking, well, I think you should learn the basics first. Just colouring people's hair purple doesn't make you creative. All I want is more blonde streaks and my roots touched up. And of course a trim, a cut. I'm sorry I'm so boring for you, all I want is to look pretty. Isn't that your job? To make me feel pretty?
Oh, the cut won't take me any time at all. I'm good at that. (And you're not at colouring I wonder?) OH, it doesn't come naturally to me, I take my time.
Just make it look good. Please please.
First thing she does is put a base colour in at the roots to cover the grey. Fine. This shouldn't take long, it doesn't usually. Hell, I've done it myself and it only takes 20 m minutes.... she takes almost an hour.
Once that is done she starts in on the highlights. She puts in the first foil. It falls out. Tries again. Ok. Onto the next. The first one falls out again. Back in again. Ok. Onto the next. The first one falls out again. She drops her comb. She picks it up off the floor without disinfecting it, and puts it in her mouth to hang onto!
I'm in disbelief. After repeating this cycle, oh, maybe 8 times, she finally calls over the instructor, who tells her she is weaving the hair too thickly. So she does a few to even it all out. It's looking better and she leaves. Monster girl takes over. I think it is about 12:30 now, and only 1/4 of my head is done.
The other instructor comes over and starts helping her. He's great, I pray he finishes it all off for her. I think he would've but the lady instructor comes over and says, how is she ever going to learn if you do it all for her? (No, it's okay, she can learn by watching today. Honestly, I don't mind.) Then she starts complaining about how much her feet hurt, she's wearing her friend's shoes that are 3 sizes too small. Great. So, what does she do? She takes them off! In the salon, where things are supposed to be clean, sanitary. She is in her stocking feet! Then she starts coughing! Yeah, great, go out and have another smoke.
I don't even know how to explain the tediousness of the next 2 hours. The worry on my face. The furrow in my brow deepening. I'm going to need Botox after this. She finally finishes the foils. But the colour is not developing fast enough. The instructor tells her to put me under a dryer to speed things up. She brings over the dryer. She trips, and it falls to the floor, the plastic hood thing broken. The instructor says that in 34 years of hairdressing she has never seen one of these break. Monster girl picks up the dryer off the floor and wheels it over. The hood is dangling, and she is about to put it on my head. I'm so shocked I sit there paralyzed, not able to say, STOP. The instructor notices, and says, you can't put that on your client's head! So she brings over the other one, plunks me under it without telling me how long it will take, or checking to see if it's too hot or anything. I'm captive. I can't stop the process now.
She has finally stopped talking to me. I heard her complain to the instructor that she has never had such a quiet client before. Usually they don't shut up she says.
While the colour is processing. I try to meditate. It works for a bit, and then I nod off.
Over she comes. Takes off one of the foils and looks underneath. Looks done to me. But that's the back...the front didn't get coloured until an hour after the back part; it'll need more time. GEEZ
My head hurts. It really hurts.
She brings me over to the sink to rinse off the gunk and take off the foils. It's gotta look good. She spent so much time on it, she took her time, and it will look great. Then she lifts up the big wad of wet chemically soaked foils in the sink, and brings them right across my face and dumps them in the garbage. I sit up. Don't drip those across my face! Oh, sorry. Aren't you going to bring me a towel? Uh, ok.
She leads me back to her station. I don't feel well. She takes the towel off my head. I close my eyes and open them again. Squint. Shake my head. What is that? What the fuck is that colour? Yes, I said FUCK! It's like...I don't know what the hell it is. It's yellow. Or orange. I lean into the mirror, turn my head. One side looks kind of normal. But at the front, it's just a big wall of yellow. It's like she just dyed the whole front part one friggin' colour.
The instructor comes over. No one says anything. In the mirror I can see the other students gawking and shaking their heads.
I begin to cry. I'm trying to remain calm, they can fix this. I know she can. But I've been here 4 hours already.
Tears are streaming down my cheeks. The instructor glares at Monster girl. Well, don't just stand there, get this lady some kleenex!
The instructor says, wow. I have to think about this. She calls someone else over, a colour specialist. They decide to weave some dark colour into the front part to break up the yellow helmet and then put a toner on the whole head to balance it out. It won't be all nice and blonde like I had wanted, but at least it will be normal looking.
Well,
my last hair colour was not normal looking but it was gorgeous. Maroon and blonde streaks, all shiny and cool. This is worse than not normal. It's just not right. I keep thinking. I could've done a better job at home.
Anyway. Two new girls work on me. They are fast, efficient, clean, and professional. I can see the colour changing instantly. The colour comes back to my face. With the yellow hair, my face looked so washed out, so old...Now I can see my tan once again. I breathe a sigh of relief.
The instructor asks me if I still want a cut. They are closing in half an hour. I ask her...who will cut it? I wanted it cut, but now I'm not so sure. She says she will ask the male instructor to do it. He comes over from the salon across the street. Yay. He's cool. I feel at ease again. He musses up my hair and starts snipping away. It will just be a trim, no time for a new style, but it will have to do.
He dries it and voila..he's done in 20 minutes. It's nice. Sassy again. The colour is a little browner but I'm sure it will fade a bit. I'm a little worried about how much it has been damaged by having colour on it for almost 3 hours though. I bet I will have to get it done again in a month. Well, at least I can walk out in public now.
You know, I really want to phone the owner and tell her of all the little things that girl did wrong, not just the colour. She is supposed to graduate in a month and be on her own? I just can't see it. I'm sure they know how bad she is. All the other girls in the salon were shaking their heads. I feel sorry for her, but hell.
Oh, they didn't charge me for the experience...
You can be sure I won't try to save money next time though.
Oh what a kid.
