Lessons learned at the Salon

Well, to tell you the truth, I’m in the mood to write. But I don’t know what to write about. So I guess I’ll focus on my favorite topic: myself.

I know that sounds arrogant of me, but really I think I’m the easiest person to write about. I know myself better than I know other people. I live my life, so I can write about it accurately.

I guess I’ll start with today. I went and got my haircut with a coupon package deal of $45 for everything—cut, pedicure, tan, highlights. Even though I’m in college and tight on cash, I couldn’t pass up a deal THAT good. My roommate, Shannon, also bought the package and we agreed to go together today, her for a pedicure, and I for my cut.

The coupon is printed on glossy cardstock—with the name “Reflections” written in curvy script across the top. Each of the parts of the package is arranged into visits. Under “Visit A,” the hair care visit, it reads “Scalp Massage, Designer Cut, Shampoo & Conditioning treatment, Product Knowledge & Prescription.” I know. It’s oozing with luxury, masked in elegant prose. Needless to say, I had high standards.

I went in and they did the whole sit you down, put a shower curtain-turned-poncho over you so that if you lean your head too far you’ll strangle yourself. The woman doing my hair (she didn’t introduce herself so she’s nameless. We’ll call her Debby. Yeah, Debby. The perfect stereotypical name for all hairstylists) discussed a cut with me (I didn’t know what I wanted) and she led me over to wash my hair.

Ok, first of all, I hate the sinks they wash your hair in. It’s so uncomfortable on your neck that you can barely—if at all—enjoy the warm water on your scalp. Debby ran her fingers along my head and a few minutes later she was leading me back to the hair cutting seats that look more like a sci-fi torture chair.

Wait, what? You said “scalp massage.” When I imagine any form of massage I imagine pain that feels good. All that felt like was my hair getting washed. I could have given myself a “scalp massage” and saved money.

She went with the cut, and then decided that I was worth talking to, since we’d been silent this whole time. She asked me if I was going to school here like the majority of the people in this town and I answered yes. Asked me where I was from, what’s my major, the whole shin dig. She cut away and when she finished, she explained it was $8 extra to blow dry my hair. Eight bucks, are you joking? Heck no. It cost me $8 to get my eyebrows waxed back home. And they want to charge me $8 to dry off my hair when I can let the sun do that for free? Come on.

Needless to say, I declined her offer. Then last on the list was “Product Knowledge and Prescription.” I know, it sounds so medical. Like they’re going to give me pills for glossier hair. She put some sort of stuff in my hair, can’t even remember now, saying it would help with the volume and whatever. Honestly, I kind of tuned her out here. No offense to her, but I wasn’t going to buy the product, so what was the point? And if they’re charging $8 for a blow dry, then I don’t even want to ask about how much the product’s going to cost.

Shannon was done before me so we went off together to get hot chocolate which was the best hot chocolate I’ve ever had in my life. So good and creamy. Wow. Fantastic stuff. She also felt jipped. Moral of the story? That when someone offers you a deal that’s too good to be true, IT IS. When was the last time you were satisfied with your floam, knives, or anti-gravity hover discs that you bought after seeing an infomercial? Buy now for just ten dollars! It’s because it’s worth the ten bucks, and ten years from now, won’t be worth anything. Just like this was worth the 45.