Last night I decided to swing by the mall and get my hair trimmed. I am not one to shell out money for a pricey haricut, and especially for a trim, I figured I could stop into a MasterCuts and get the job done. Well...
This stylist was drunk. Either that, or crazy. I'm not sure which. Anyway, I should've bolted when I noted how she kinda stumbled around, and then when I went to sit in her chair, there was a bag of kettle korn, which she offered me. I declined. But I sat down where her snack had been.
I told her that I wanted to maintain the basic shape of my hairstyle, I just wanted it trimmed in order to freshen it up and eliminate the dry ends. She heartily agreed it could be done and set to work with her scissors. As she happily chopped away, she chatted -- and it was the chat of someone who was not in her right mind. At first, she asked if the mole above my lip was natural, I told her it was, and she said how lucky I was to have that (didn't feel so lucky when I was eight and kids teased me -- "is that a chocolate chip on your face?") because she had tattooed hers on! Looking at her reflection in the mirror, it suddenly became apparent that it was a tattoo! (I have nothing against tatts -- I have one myself -- but to tattoo what is essentially a skin abnormality onto your face?! WTF?)
Anyway, she babbled on about how everyone in S. FL is terrible and rude and how she hates everybody here, except for me because I was nice, and how much I was just gonna LOVE my hair because she was doing something really fantastic with it. And this is when I got scared. I just wanted a trim; I didn't want "something fantastic." In the meantime, she dropped her comb and had to lean on my left knee to bend over and pick it up! I was so baffled by her behavior that I was literally captively stunned. And, it's hard to tell exactly what a stylist is doing since she was yanking my head back and forth and hair often fell in my eyes, but it was revealed when she was finished that she'd essentially given me a mullet.
A mullet, people.
Lots of short layers on top, and then she'd left the back long! Eek gad! I guess $12.95 just doesn't buy you the quality you're used to these days.
Once I was home, explaining to my husband the haircut that a trained chimp could've given me (and which I 'd tipped her for as well -- my manners don't escape me even when I know that money probably went to an 8 ball in the back alley), he commented: "It doesn't look terrible, but if I were you, I'd get it fixed." Get it fixed! If my husband notices how bad it is, it must be bad!! So, I've got to find a place today to get this business taken care of, which means I'm going to end up with a style that is far shorter than a "trim," and I will probably end up paying twice as much as I set out to. But I guess every story has a lesson, and my lesson?
Avoid "Drunk Denise" at MasterCuts. I guess $12.95 is a fair price for that one.