Why I Don’t Trust Hairdressers: My Experience with “Lynne”

Lynne is the hairdresser that was filling in for my regular lady, who is named Mary-Kate. I’m going to refer to her as MK, because typing out “Mary-Kate” every single time is going to give me carpal tunnel syndrome quicker than I could have ever anticipated. Anyways, this is a story about how I went to my regular hair dresser and was given a new lady – I still don’t know why they did that (to this very day). MK was sitting in the back and sobbing, so I felt as if she had been burdened enough for the day, that’s the main reason why I didn’t ask any questions. When it comes to my hair, I’m very picky. If you don’t get the job done right, I’m going to let you know about it. In the end, I’m paying good money to have my hair fixed up, and when they fail to meet my requirements, I have the right to be a little upset. I actually used to own a salon myself back in the day, but I found that it was too much of a hassle for me. I made a decent amount of money, and then sold the business – maybe that’s what these people should have done!

Right away I could tell that Lynne wasn’t too sure of what needed to be done to my hair, so she said “let’s wash it all really quickly”. I had just washed my hair before we got to the salon, so I insisted that it wasn’t necessary, but she forced me over to the sink anyways. I don’t know if it’s protocol, or she just thinks I’m dirty in general, but she was really rubbing into my scalp! If she had done it any harder, she’d probably be hitting bone after a couple of minutes. Lynne really had all the tell-tale signs of a newbie, and I was frozen with shock.

I tried to say that I had something else I needed to take care of, and I’m the kind of person that finds it hard to say no. If I walked into an awkward situation, odds are I’m just going to sit down on the nearest couch and wait for things to play out – confrontation just isn’t my think. If you’ve already managed to ruin my hair, though, you can bet that there’s going to be hell on earth!

The Massacre of My Hair!

Lynne finally had my hair all washed up, and she started to blow-dry it. They definitely didn’t get any of their hair dryers from Oomphed! – the heat was almost unbearable and the hot steel grills (on the dryer) kept on burning my neck. Lynne didn’t seem to notice, and my rage levels were building higher and higher. MK finally came out of the back room and noticed that Lynne was about to start cutting my hair, and that’s when things finally clicked for her. She shouted out “No! Lynne, don’t!” and ran over to the chair, only to snatch the scissors out of Lynne’s hand.

It turns out that Lynne was just the person who swept up hair, and felt like she deserved a shot at cutting it. She wasn’t licensed, MK didn’t tell her to and I definitely didn’t appreciate the sentiment. She was a relatively young girl, about 17 or 18, so I didn’t lay into her too much. I merely said that she needs to be more careful, and act like an adult when she’s at work – she could’ve snipped a few strand of hair in the wrong place and completely ruined me. MK felt bad about the entire thing, but it was fine in the end. She finished up my haircut and I was left with the normal look that I always sport. Happy with how things went, I left MK a small tip and went about my business. If you’re reading this, Lynne, I forgive you – just don’t do anything like that ever again. The hair of a woman is sacred in a sense, and you shouldn’t mess around with that.