Quick! Someone get this lady an eggnog!
For my entire adult life, I've been extra careful never to get my hair styled during two important periods: The week before my stylist goes on vacation in the summer, or the week before Christmas. That's just asking for trouble.
But this Christmas, I didn't have a choice. I put my appointment off recently because of the vertigo thingie, and ended up going in today. Unfortunately, because I broke the golden rule, I will need to return tomorrow to "fix" a colour-related boo-boo. Hey... that's life. Put your mane in the hands of a stressed, overworked stylist, and these things happen. No biggie.
But this post isn't supposed to be about me. Instead, I want to relay a story that happened to my very harried stylist the other day.
She's a mom to two young kids and has an extremely demanding work schedule. Still, she recently managed to sneak a day to herself to do some Christmas and grocery shopping for the weekend's festivities, which she's hosting.
She spent hours at the mall, carrying heavy bags, wearing a hot, cumbersome winter coat, weaving in and out of crowded stores, standing in check-out lines... you get the picture.
By the end of the afternoon, feeling completely wiped out as she stood in the middle of Zellers (sort of like a K-mart, for you 'Merkins), she decided she could take no more and just. wanted. to. go. home.
She headed for the cashier and took her place in the long check-out line. Growing more tired and irritated by the minute, she shifted her weight from side to side, sighing audibly and stretching her neck to the side now and then to see how things were moving along at the front of the line. She thought, "Why do they always put the slowest, dimmest temps on the registers during the holidays?"
She glanced at her watch. Her arms were tired. Her purse felt like a sac full of lead weighing her shoulder down. Goddamn it, MOVE IT PEOPLE!
When it was finally her turn at the cash, she suddenly had a moment of stabbing clarity. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and her eyes grew wide in alarm. The cashier gave her a puzzled look. "Ma'am?"
She had nothing to purchase.
It's like she had been on shopping auto-pilot, and just naturally gravitated to the check-out line when she decided it was time to leave. She mumbled a simple "thank you" to the cashier, and left the store.
After I stopped peeing my pants and wiping the tears from my eyes, I left her a hefty Christmas tip.
But this Christmas, I didn't have a choice. I put my appointment off recently because of the vertigo thingie, and ended up going in today. Unfortunately, because I broke the golden rule, I will need to return tomorrow to "fix" a colour-related boo-boo. Hey... that's life. Put your mane in the hands of a stressed, overworked stylist, and these things happen. No biggie.
But this post isn't supposed to be about me. Instead, I want to relay a story that happened to my very harried stylist the other day.
She's a mom to two young kids and has an extremely demanding work schedule. Still, she recently managed to sneak a day to herself to do some Christmas and grocery shopping for the weekend's festivities, which she's hosting.
She spent hours at the mall, carrying heavy bags, wearing a hot, cumbersome winter coat, weaving in and out of crowded stores, standing in check-out lines... you get the picture.
By the end of the afternoon, feeling completely wiped out as she stood in the middle of Zellers (sort of like a K-mart, for you 'Merkins), she decided she could take no more and just. wanted. to. go. home.
She headed for the cashier and took her place in the long check-out line. Growing more tired and irritated by the minute, she shifted her weight from side to side, sighing audibly and stretching her neck to the side now and then to see how things were moving along at the front of the line. She thought, "Why do they always put the slowest, dimmest temps on the registers during the holidays?"
She glanced at her watch. Her arms were tired. Her purse felt like a sac full of lead weighing her shoulder down. Goddamn it, MOVE IT PEOPLE!
When it was finally her turn at the cash, she suddenly had a moment of stabbing clarity. She felt the blood rush to her cheeks and her eyes grew wide in alarm. The cashier gave her a puzzled look. "Ma'am?"
She had nothing to purchase.
It's like she had been on shopping auto-pilot, and just naturally gravitated to the check-out line when she decided it was time to leave. She mumbled a simple "thank you" to the cashier, and left the store.
After I stopped peeing my pants and wiping the tears from my eyes, I left her a hefty Christmas tip.
posted by Berry at 4:27 PM
4 Comments:
OHMYGOD! This is so horrible and dreadful! That poor lady! And there she was talking about the dim cashiers....ugh...I can see myself doing something like that...(cringe...)
no effing way! you peed???
hehehehee
That's priceless. I would have grabbed a pack of gum or a candy bar and tried to convince everyone of my intent to do so all along.
That is hilarious. Maybe her hair was on too tight. Eggnog can't cure that.
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