Or maybe pretty close.
Generally i try to stay away from ranting, i get all high pitched and irrational, but my haircut today really pushed me over the edge. I need to rant.
I HATE GETTING MY HAIRCUT.
From beginning to end, it is sheer torture. Walking into a salon, i am immediately an inconvenience to the hairdresser, God that he is with his strutting walk, bleached hair and lisping voice. I'm sure he is a lovely guy, but right now he is THE BANE OF MY EXISTENCE.
He then runs his manicured hands through my hair, sighs and tuts. There is a long pause. The tension builds.
"Well... you see, your hair is like, dead. You need to get a conditioning treatment, and regular cuts. Like.... once every six weeks?"
Of course i do.
What follows is an hour of being shampooed, conditioned and trimmed, all the while being subjected to learned word for word from a script advice on how that salon's products can turn me into Cheryl Cole. And yes, she was the example given.
The there was the inane talk. One day i will snap and scream 'CONCENTRATE ON MY FUCKING HAIR YOU BRAIN DEAD MORON'. Until i finally work up the courage, i satisfy myself with one word answers or gross exageration and sarcasm.
BRAIN DEAD TRAINEE: I've had like SUCH a hard day, there's meant to be two trainees but like, i'm the only one, so i'm like, pure running round everywhere.
ME: That must be SOOO difficult, however have you managed?
I think she may have picked up on it, as i was the only customer not offererd tea or coffee. Harsh punishment for a bit of fun.
Once it became clear i had no money to spend on products and no interest in 'so what are you doing at the weekend' chatter, the ordeal was over pretty quickly. For which i can only say
THANK FUCK.
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