12/16/04’s illustrious band:

Hair Apparent

Brought to you off the top of my head, so to speak.

I got a haircut last night so I can look good in all the holiday pictures that will be taken next week. Stylin' Ryan, the amusing gent who made me look good last time, is no longer with the salon, so my appointment was with someone new, Adequate Angie. When I left the salon, my hair was cleaner and shorter than when I arrived, but that's about all the credit I'll give her. From the dearth of banter (Ryan was a hoot) to the lackluster scalp massage (Ryan was a master), her performance just wasn't up to standard. She fell especially short in the area of "listening to/comprehending client's wishes."

To give the poor girl a bit of a break, I'll point out that she's not alone in that failing. With the exception of Karen, the college roommate who trimmed my hair in exchange for Mountain Dew, and Stylin' Ryan, who actually understood what "low maintenance" meant, every stylist I've ever had has insisted upon doing things to my hair that I would never do at home. Ever. Angie is simply the latest in a long string of offenders.

Our conversation went something like this:

ANGIE: How much time do you usually spend on your hair in the morning?

ME: Just a few minutes.

ANGIE: How would you describe your style?

ME: Easy-care. Low-maintenance. Wash-and-wear. Easy to tie back for working out.

ANGIE: OK, got it.

Next thing I know, she's toiling away with a round brush, a hair dryer, and enough hairspray to give me helmet head for a month. She tugged and dried and fluffed and sprayed for a good long time. Finally I looked in the mirror and whoop! Zero to 60s in 15 minutes flat! With hair high in the crown and flipped at the ends, I looked like an extra in an Elvis flick. The first thing I did upon arriving home was stick my head in the sink and hose that bouffant down.

Apparently, in salonspeak, "Got it" means "I will now do something to you that under other circumstances would be considered a poor excuse for a practical joke." Am I supposed to consider that a treat? Should I be delighted by a stylist's complete disregard for my preferences? What ever happened to the customer always being right? In other industries, that's not acceptable. If I ordered a steak and got sushi, you can bet I'd send it back. But when it's my hair, I'm more likely to bite the bullet and slap on a hat.

Since the Gidget 'do was the worst thing that happened to me all day, I can hardly consider my life unpleasant. But I am bemused and will appreciate any insight others can offer. And don't try the "she's just trying to do for you something you wouldn't do for yourself" line. If I had wanted something outdated and unbecoming, I would have asked for it. What I did ask for -- a simple, flattering, professional style -- I did not get.

Today around the world: December 16 marks the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party. I'm still a bit miffed that I wasn't invited.

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