Look, this wasn't like me. I don't have reactions this visceral over a bad hair cut, but there I was - upset beyond belief. I'm trying to figure out why I was so mad. I mean, it's just hair. It'll grow back. Right?
So, let me set the scene. It's lockdown, mid April, and we've been buttoned up tight in our little house since... I can't even remember....December-something 2020. It's the unprecedented "second" lockdown, that followed the first big one we had here in the U.K. That was a doozer. That was something like March 2020 all through summer, into Autumn, with a limited lifting for the holidays into 2021 and then a snap-shut order the following March. So, at first, like... last year, after months in lockdown, during the beginning of summer, my hair was annoying me, getting longer and longer, no hair salons were open and it was getting warmer which annoys me to begin with because "no air conditioning". I get agitated quickly in the summer and add lockdown conditions to that- ugh, my patience with my hair just snapped and I did exactly what everyone said NOT to do. Yep. I cut it myself. Two snips. I just pulled a handful of hair forward along my shoulder and snipped. UPWARD. By my ear. Then I did the other side. Same thing. The minute I did it, I knew it was a bad idea. It was AWFUL. I was staring at a LOT of hair, covering my sink and bathroom vanity and there was nothing I could do about it now. Oh man. It was so bad that I spent two months avoiding every mirror in my house. I wouldn't even go to the store for essentials. I ordered everything online. I stopped doing FaceTime or video chats. I wore hats when I was in the garden because I was worried my neighbors would pop their heads over the fence for a chat, but even that looked dumb. It was so bad that I don't even have a picture. I didn't want any reminders. I didn't want it on record. I couldn't put it in a ponytail or anything. The only reference I have is from two months after, when I took a picture to show my mother how much it had grown. It had grown from just under my ears to just touching my shoulders and I was ecstatic.
So, from there, I just gave up on it. By August 2021, it had really grown out, and for the first time I could stand to look at it. I had always kept it "medium length" for most of my adult life. It was just getting back to that. It was a slow jam, though. It felt like forever. But it was getting back to normal. The trauma was subsiding. I mean, yeh, that sounds dramatic, but come on, lesbians and their hair - thats a REAL thing.
So, I didn't touch it again. I hid the scissors, and left it alone. For months and months on end. And now, here I was over 50 years old, and I had long hair! I could actually put it in a ponytail, I could put it up, I could leave it down, my layers were growing out a bit and it was fairly easy to care for- quick blow dry, a bit of Argan oil and I was good to go. I was super happy about my hair after one complete year of absolutely hating it. Man, it felt GOOD. Just about every day was a "good hair day". I didn't have to wear a baseball hat while doing my Zoom calls for shows for our Podcast and YouTube channel and I was thrilled! I have had my hair pretty much the same way since my high school graduation and I just grew accustomed to it. Now it was longer, and when I looked in the mirror, it was different to me, and I really liked it, for a change.
Ok, now we've rolled through the 2021 holidays, Spring was here. The U.K. announced their "phased" re-opening and I had my 2nd vaccination in May, so things were looking up. My wife was having a trying time with her hair, too, in lockdown but hers was all colour-based: roots, highlights, that sort of stuff . She tried rinses, bleaching, dying it herself before finally making an appointment a month after the salons were re-opened. She went to her usual trendy High Street salon, that I, personally, almost never used because I basically just needed an easy cut. I wasn't getting colour, toner, cut, blow outs. I usually went to the salon across the street from the hoity-toity, high end one, that was more middle of the road, low key, no pomp, no wall to wall products, or twinkling gay men, no women in black with high cheek bones and too much make up. I had been to that over-priced, franchised chain salon before because on Tuesdays they have students learning from trainers and cuts were reduced to an affordable price and the trainers were helicoptering around the students, so it was safe to say, you'd get a good cut and they would have their hands on experience. The time I went, I had a young girl, who was friendly, chatty, and REALLY conscious of listening to what I wanted, checking with her trainer, who came over, showing her, taking the time to explain everything and she stayed while the cut got underway, she checked back, she continued to coach and was never far away, keeping an eye out to what the trainee was doing. She managed her time well, and there weren't many chairs filled but she did that with every seat, every trainee, for every customer. All in all, it wasn't a bad experience in any way. It was a LONG time ago, in fact, long before the Covid madness had set upon us. My last decent hair cut was in November 2019. My parents were visiting and I took my mother to a little salon near my house so she could get a wash and blow out and I got my hair cut. That was literally my last salon hair cut. 2019.
Then, to recap, in summer 2020, I whacked it myself and now a year had past, it had grown back ten fold, and I had long hair that I loved. Not medium length. LONG.
It's kind of crazy how for weeks on end, you have good hair days - maybe its because of the weather, your new shampoo, or conditioner, or whatever, but it's a winning streak. Then one day, you wash your hair, and go to style it and it's not cooperating. It's too long. Overnight, it goes from good to "uh-oh".
Just as my wife had gotten her hair almost back on track at the high end salon, I was fighting with my hair to do ANYTHING. I had hit the sweet spot for about 3 months and now it was overgrown, had dead ends, and in my face, eyes, and mouth every second. I tried ignoring it, I was wearing it up more often than not and I had to make a decision (one that COULD NOT include another home cut by me). My wife told me she wasn't thrilled with her colour because the stylist (who also doubled as the trainer for the students) had quit and they had someone else taking her place and it wasn't as good. THAT should have been my neon, flashing red flag, my big obvious clue, but NOOOOOO. I made an appointment at the foo-foo-shee-shee salon because I had spent a year being good, and letting it grow out without touching it myself, and I liked it long, so I was going to take care of it and go to the high end salon again, and get it cut professionally and proper. On training day, because, it was, after all, just a trim.
The day came. It was June-something, 2021. I masked up. I walked to the salon, passing my usual, normal place, head down, not wanting to offend the girls I usually saw when I did go there. I crossed the street and waited out front of glam salon. I was summoned in by the same young girl I had before, so there was a sense of relief there. She was "certified floor ready" which meant she had graduated but because of Covid and being closed for so long, she was doing training days again to ease back into it, which I found pretty decent of her, after being off for so long. I followed the protocols as an unmasked, flittering gay man took my temperature and pointed to the hand sanitizing station, without so much as a smile, before turning on his heel spinning off to fuss with his own hair in front of a mirror. My little familiar stylist washed my hair and we discussed our lockdown times through a muffled conversation in our masks, and her with a face shield over it. As she seated me, I told her the story of how I cut it myself, a while back but haven't touched it in over a year, and I was really happy with the length, I just needed the long layers "slightly trimmed", and just about a HALF inch off the back to get rid of dead ends. We discussed how I wear it, where my part falls, how I style it when I dry it, and she was listening as intently as she did the last time I was there. I reminded her of that visit and said, "Remember when your trainer was showing you about the angles of the layers? Same thing again, only not too much off." She nodded, agreed and began. I noticed that Mr. Not-So-Friendly was at the chair next to us, with no one in it, and he was still messing with his own hair, not paying attention to me or my stylist, or the other customer and her stylist (there were still protocols about having only 2-3 customers at a time in the salon). My little stylist asked me about the length again, for the back, and I told her, "not too much because I like being able to wear it in a ponytail once in a while." She nodded and brought my long parts behind my shoulder, and worked on my top, crown, and sides. I might have felt a twinge when my stylist asked me "How many layers do you want?" I sort of froze. I mean, what's the answer to THAT? Four? Twenty four? Six? Is there a right answer? I said, "Um, I guess a few..?" In all my 52 years of getting hair cuts, I had never been asked "How many layers do you want?" I took a deep breath and hoped that was just a blip.
Gay Trainer Guy never acknowledged a thing. I noticed my little stylist girl didn't seem as confident as she did the last time. A lot of checking and re-checking pieces. She would look up and over at him, who never even made eye contact with her. I wasn't there long at all, and as I normally do, I told her I didn't need it blown dry because I just live 2 minutes away and would be washing and styling it myself in a matter of minutes. So, she removed the disposable cape which felt like a flimsy garbage bag (Covid time, friends, Covid times) and I tapped my debit card on the machine, thanked her and left. Let me just say, that it felt like a normal hair cut. It looked like a normal hair cut when I watched in the mirror, and even at the end when they hold up the mirror and you get a good look - it all felt fine. I walked home wondering if "a few" was the right answer to "How many layers do you want?" but all in all I wasn't fussed. It was a hair cut. It wasn't spectacular. It never is. It was just a wet mop now. A typical hair cut. No big deal... OR SO I THOUGHT until I got home, showered and TRIED to style it. See below. I call this picture "WTF?!"
She could have thoroughly felt like she was doing a good job, and who was there to say, "Nope, you have to do it like this.." ? NOT HIM, that's for sure.
Let's be honest, I wasn't in that high end, expensive salon asking to look like JLo, I was getting a simple hair cut. I'm not unrealistic. I wasn't asking for a miracle.
A mere trim by a newly minted floor stylist who hadn't cut hair in months and was in a re-TRAINING program to refresh herself. So, she was doing the right thing. HE was the wrong person to be doing it.
Imagine my surprise after six weeks of chronic bitching about how much I hated this hair cut (I did it on my podcast, I did it on calls with friends and family, I did it to my poor wife who was struggling, herself to find a new salon) literally bitching to anyone who'd listen, imagine my shock when my phone rang and it was my little stylist girl. She was calling to see if I wanted to schedule my next cut. I thought that was odd since thats not usually done, but, maybe because of these Covid times, they were trying to get back to being booked up and make some money. What do I know? I hesitated and even stuttered a bit before saying the carefully chosen words (because, again, I didn't blame her) "I think I'm going to skip booking in, because this...um...the last cut...Uh, it wasn't really ...um...to my liking." I followed up quickly with, "I'm sorry! I wasn't going to say anything and just not come back." Awkwarrrrd. I was cringing listening to myself. My shoulders were up by my ears. "I'm really sorry," I said again and she was like, "No, no, don't be. I'm the one who's sorry! Can you tell me more about the what and why you don't like it?" and in that moment, I could sort of tell that there was something more going on. I said, "Well, it's choppy, uneven, pieces are longer on one side, the angles are all wrong, nothing was taken off the back, the top was barely touched, so its not blending with the too short sides..." She listened intently. "I'm so sorry," she said. I stammered more, "It's not your fault, though. I don't blame you one bit, I blame your trainer guy." And BOOM, there it was. I could instantly hear..something...I'm not sure what- in her voice and she almost proudly, as if she KNEW that this guy was a waste, said to me "Would you like to speak with him right now?" I could hear in her voice that she really, really wanted me to. This little kid knew she has herself a crappy trainer and I just validated it. It felt like she was screaming silently "CONFIRMED!" So, I said, "Yeh, put him on." I waited a moment before I was met with "Hello, this is Nathan (YEH, THATS HIS REAL NAME!), I understand you weren't satisfied with your hair cut?" Already, I was reading his tone as "bored". I said, "Yeh, I really wasn't. And I've had Sharon do my hair before (NOT her real name) on a training day, but at that time, her trainer Angela (NOT her real name) was right there almost the whole time, guiding her and teaching her, explaining everything to her and it was a really good cut.I was really happy with it." He asked ME "How did you explain what you wanted done to her? Did she understand what you wanted?" I told him, I explained I wanted my long layers slightly trimmed, a half inch off the back to get rid dead ends, but still be able to put it in a ponytail, and I needed the top trimmed a little to blend into my sides. He quickly said, "And you don't feel like thats what she did?" I said, "No, I don't and you were standing right next to us the entire time and didn't offer a bit of training or anything, even when she asked me how many layers I wanted," to which he replied, "Well Sharon is 'floor certified' already so I wasn't there to train her, she was just getting in refresher hours. If you weren't satisfied with how it was going, you could have let me know." Not only was this dip shit blaming me, blaming her, but he was pretty much trying to tell me that he wasn't there to train ...on training day. Like, he wasn't there to do his job that day - was what it boiled down to. So I pointed that out. Again, his response was "Nobody said anything to me," to which I said, "I didn't know I had to ask you to DO YOUR JOB." He took a beat before saying, "If you'd like to come in and have ME fix it free of charge, I can book you in." I tried to keep my exasperation minimal and just said, "I don't think I'll be back, Nathan. There is no 'resolving' this situation, obviously. Sharon was there to refresh what she learned IN TRAINING, by her TRAINER, who, by the way, didn't interact with ANY of the stylists or customers that day to the best of my recollection. I know this because I was keenly aware that all you did was fuss with your own hair for thirty minutes, three feet from me, who was there on TRAINING day." He then asked me to explain what was wrong with the cut, as if he was now doubting it was a bad cut- to which I said, "How about I just email you the picture that I've been sending around to everyone I know with funny captions, and WTF's, making fun of this RIDICULOUS hair cut, how about that? Will that work?" He gave me his email address and said he would very much like to see it. He used particular language in ending the call that led me to believe he would NEVER take responsibility for being a shitty teacher/trainer, and manager. "I'm sorry you feel you had an unacceptable cut, and that our stylist wasn't up to par, I'm not sure what more I can do to make your experience better if you aren't willing to come in."
I said, "Nathan, the way you've handled this only makes me confident in my decision to find another salon, and all I can say is that the one I feel bad for is Sharon (again, NOT her REAL name) who's getting cheated out of learning how to cut."
I hung up the phone and immediately sent him the picture above with the red arrows. His reply? "Thank you for sending the picture. I will walk through this whole cut with Sharon and let her know what is wrong. Kind regards, Nathan" (again, his REAL name)
It was INFURIATING. I had lost all hope for this place. With Angela (NOT her REAL name), the original trainer, manager and stylist gone, the whole salon had gone down the tubes and with this horrible, snarky replacement there was no saving it. Over dinner that night, I relayed the conversation I had with Nathan to my wife who agreed that Nathan had dragged that salon to the ground and there was no coming back from it. Her experience with him was the same. He was an uppity twit with no communication or people skills for that type of job.
We were right because three days later, I got what I assume was a mass text message to the all clients of the salon, stating that their salon location was being closed for good. Some of the staff would be going to their sister salon a few neighborhoods away and some where finding other places to work. My wife walked in from work, staring at her phone and looked up at me. "Wow! Did you get this message, too?" I said yeh, I had just read it and we both did a shrug, and agreed that we hoped Sharon would carry on some place else because she had potential and dedication to the craft, she just needed someone like Angela to guide her. I was glad they had closed. They were an over-priced, franchised chain who's managers had taken their former good reputation for granted and rested on a funky, techno radio station, slacking during their down time and not taking their jobs and salon seriously. It was inevitable.
My wife asked me a few questions about the salon I used to go to. It's called TOUCHE' (the REAl name). I told her it was a great place, easy going, the stylists were nice and did a good job. I think it was a Mom answering phones, and two daughters who were the primary stylists and one or two others. It was located next to a pub where I used to work and I even knew some of the girls from their Happy Hour drinks once in a while. So, my wife booked in a day or two later with a stylist named Fran (her REAL name) and had her colour fixed and a nice cut. She was thoroughly satisfied and put the salon number in her phone. That's a sign of commitment, ya know? It's a big deal.
It was the following week that I sucked up my frustration and called TOUCHE' to booked in for a "Help!" hair cut. I walked in and met with Lesley (yes, her REAL name) and explained everything. She sat next to me, and listened, lifting pieces up and taking it all in. She pointed out what needed to be fixed and why. She told me what things she was going to have to leave until they grew in more, but how she was going to work on blending as a way forward while it grows back. One of the things I noted was that no matter how much I dumped on the "former" salon (it was uncontrollable, and I was still a bit flamed up over it) and their manager, how he handled it all, etc. -she didn't pile on. She didn't bad mouth them, she nodded and listened and she did agree with my assessment that it was the trainer's fault for not doing his job that day and helping all the stylists who were on the floor, certified or not. I respect that. She could have been gossipy and chimed in about what she knew or had heard, but she didn't. That was pretty cool. After a bit of snipping, reconfiguring the angles, and trimming the back and top, Lesley had finished. I thanked her profusely, paid my reasonable, affordable fee for services and went home. I showered and styled my hair, that was now completely fixed, better than I had hoped for, even after Lesley explained there were certain places she had to leave alone to grow, but had blended as best as she could. It was better, not shorter (my fear), it was blended better and felt right. As for me, I've learned my lesson about home-hair-cuts. No more of those. I've also seen first hand how a crappy manager can dim the light of their employees and have no idea or self awareness about it. I'm not one that really speaks up, you know, not big on confrontation, I don't send too many meals back, I don't run back to the store when I see the wrong thing in my grocery bag, I normally shrug it off. But, maybe because Sharon was such a good kid, and I could see how badly she wanted to be a stylist, from the time she was just a shampoo girl, to completing her certification, she was serious about it, she loved what she does, to the point of choosing re-training after a really bad year having your career stalled due to a pandemic, I wanted to rise up and let her know she was right, she had an awful trainer and manager and even though she couldn't say that directly, I knew. It was a "I got you, Boo" moment and I did. I'm most certain Nathan didn't get the point.
It's been full circle in this unexpected hair journey. I'd like to say that Sharon is thriving in a new salon, with an amazing manager - but sadly, I don't have her number to check on her, so I'm going to believe that's whats happening for her.
Yes, Lesley's number is in my phone.
