Hit Me While I’m Down. A Short Story About Me & My Barber

A couple of months ago, I went to the hair salon for a trim. I use the term “Hair Salon” in the loose sense of the term, by which I really mean “very inexpensive hole-in-the-wall barber shop across the street from my house.”

I’ve been going to this barber  since I’ve lived in this ‘hood. It’s cheap, convenient, and I don’t need an appointment. But at my last visit I was pushed to the limit of what a woman can withstand.

Upon completing my hair cut, the barber said to me, “You don’t have a modern cut, but you have what works for you.” WTF?? What the hell does that mean? I look like something out of the 1800’s? I look like shit, but it’s by choice?

I tried to shrug off her comments, and I asked her how much I owed her (she’s charged me a couple different prices in the past), and that’s when she mumbled something unintelligible. I had to ask her to repeat what she said, and out came this gem, “Do you get the Senior Discount?” Me: “How old do you have to be for the Senior discount?” Her: “65.” HOLY MOTHER OF GOD…I’m only 57!

I am so done with this place. I just can’t take it. Adios you hair hack!!!

 

 

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I Almost Slapped A Sales Woman Today

True. I felt myself wanting to slap a sales woman today. You probably don’t think I look like the violent type, but, what she said kind of shocked me. She kind of pissed me off. But then after a few seconds, I thought that I wanted to hug her.

 

It happened in my favorite clothing store, Title IX (Title 9). Title IX, if you’re not familiar with it, has super fun and comfortable clothes for active women. And get this, almost all of their skirts and dresses have pockets in them!! Woohooo!! No more asking the sig other to carry your chapstick! When we travel, I live in a couple of skirts that I’ve purchased there in the past.

 

Anyway, I was trying on a skirt and had stepped out of the dressing room to look at myself in the large mirror in the back of the store. That’s when it happened. The very young sales woman who’d been helping me, who was probably 25 years old at the most, which would make me more than twice her age, looked at me and said,

 That looks cute. I hope I look as good as you do when I’m your age.

 

WTF? What do you mean,

…when you’re my age?

 

What’s that supposed to mean?! Should I slap her? But wait, a couple seconds later, I decided it was a compliment. Yea, sure, must have been! Maybe I should hug her! No, stay cool. So I just smiled and said,

Thank you, I guess!

 

Grace under pressure. Yep, that was me today!! And lookin’ good. Yep, that was me today too!