Daily Prompt: Take a Chance on Me
What’s the biggest chance you ever took? Did it work out? Do tell!
I took a chance and went to Clips. I hadn’t been getting great haircuts at higher priced salons, so I figured I might as well try my luck with a thirteen dollar haircut.
I was pleased with the first cut I got there and proud of myself for being so brave and thrifty. But, of course, you don’t necessarily get to pick your stylist at Clips; there are no appointments. It’s the luck of the draw.
The next time I needed a haircut I got there early, hoping to get the same excellent stylist. The only customer in the shop, I stood at the reception desk, waiting for one of the four ladies to notice me. “My” stylist wasn’t there.
The stylists were huddled up in the back of the shop, excited about a new spray-on color product. They giggled and oohed over a sparkly pink streak in one of the girls’ hair.
“That’s awesome! Do mine! Do it blue! No, purple!”
Eventually one of them noticed there was a customer, tore herself away from the group and checked me in. She settled me in, pumped-up her chair and snapped the plastic cape around my neck, conversing loudly all the while with the girls in the back.
Any minute now she’s going to start focusing on me, I thought. I can understand having some silly girl fun at work in the morning, but when you have a customer you tend to business.
“So what are we doing today?” she asked, finally making eye contact. I explained; shorter here, textured, not too short there. The stylist grabbed her spray bottle (Shampoo is extra) and started dampening my hair. She was yakking with the girls again, squirting and scrunching my hair, laughing and squirting and talking about Saturday and scrunching and squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt, squirt and not even looking! My hair was thoroughly soaked and dripping.
I was getting annoyed, starting to think about getting up and leaving so Stylie Stylus could spray paint her hair with her girlfriends.
Grandma did that once: up and left the building; marched straight across the street, still wearing the plastic cape, to the other salon, “Where they don’t tease your hair when you tell ’em not to!” Grandma would not have put up with this unprofessional behavior. Grandma had backbone.
But I’m patient. Or maybe just lacking backbone.
Eventually Stylie stopped squirting and scrunching my hair and got down to business. She snipped away, still following the conversation in back, snipping and clipping and lol-ing. I cringed under the scissors and hoped for the best. It looked awfully short. It looked pretty choppy, but blow-dry is extra so I can’t really tell until I get home and style it myself.
I paid and tipped Stylie. Not a big tip, but something.
When I got into my car I checked my hair in the mirror. It’ll grow out, is all you can say at that point. That’s when I noticed my shirt, soaked around the neck and halfway down the sleeve on both sides. Even with the plastic cape on, I was drenched. No wonder I felt so cold!
I had planned to go to Target, but I changed my mind and went straight home to dry out.
I really should have complained, but I didn’t.
That was the last time I took a chance at Clips.