I decided to get my haircut this past weekend. I didn’t have an appointment but found an Aveda salon that was on my route towards town and went in. There was a young hairstylist named Brittany that said that she had time to do a trim. I sat down in the chair and she asked what I wanted done. Previously I had an asymmetrical hair cut and I wanted to get both sides even so that it would grow out a little better. She said that would be no problem and we went over to the hair washing station. At this point, things started to go downhill.
While washing my hair, I told her that I had two little boys, age 3 and 1. She had a very bubbly response of “Ohh, wow, you look great for having two kids.” Now, I should say that I have said the very same thing to a mom before, however, at this moment I realized that comment is very awkward. What is a mom supposed to look like, I wondered? I decided right then, that I would not say that to a mom in the future.
She started to squirt some shampoo in my hair and asked if I was familiar with Aveda products. I said I was. She said that the shampoo that she was using was great for fine hair like mine. What? I started to get a little worried. I don’t have fine hair. I have straight unprocessed hair, but it is not fine.
She finishes up and begins my hair cut. Brittany struggles with getting the longer side to match up. At this point I find out that she has been in town for about a month and a half and I gather that she has been cutting hair with a license for about that long. She keeps commenting on the fact that it is difficult to get my hair even and she wonders why it isn’t working. She has her “aha” moment and realizes that she must layer the longer side to match it up. I start to breathe a sigh of relief that she has figured it out and she isn’t going to butcher my hair. Then she snips her hand and starts to bleed. She excuses herself to go get a band aid.
While I’m waiting, I hear the owner/manager on the phone with a client. I can tell that the client is distressed over her recent color job. As I’m eavesdropping, I learn that the hairstylist was Brittany, the one cutting my hair. The owner is apologizing profusely, telling the client that she instructed her very new hairstylist to do some technique on her hair. She goes on for awhile as I get more nervous about the novice that is cutting my hair. As Brittany comes back out, I hear the owner saying that she will set up an appointment with a very experienced and fast stylist to correct the job done by Brittany.
Brittany finishes evening up my hair and asks what I think. I reply that I think it looks good. Now, I knew that this isn’t going to be some fantastic hair cut because I really just want to grow my hair back out some, but you don’t really want to hear your 19 year old, inexperienced and bleeding hairdresser say, “It looks great, kind of MOMMY-ISH.”
Umm, what? I think to myself. Did she really just say that she gave me a mommy haircut? My mind starts to think about all of the soccer mom haircut comments that I’m going to get. I don’t want a mommy-ish haircut. I want a cute and sexy haircut. Not to say that a mom can’t have cute hair, but the ish sound coming out of her mouth just made me feel like crap. I keep replaying the mommy-ish comment in my head.
She asked if I wanted to look at the back of my hair. Rather than speaking up at this point about not liking the mommy-ish comment, I became quiet and passive aggressive. I made her do a bunch of minor corrections to my hair and became more picky. She kept trying to tell me that the reason that my hair wasn’t laying right was because she hadn’t blow dried it with a hair dryer. I’m thinking at this point, well then blow dry it. She ended up styling it some, but it never looked fantastic. I ended up paying the $25 without a tip. Her rate was the lowest that it could be since she was a new stylist. I really need to make sure to ask for people’s credentials before I get my hair cut with them.