An Open Letter to the Girl I made a Housecall for:
You, Madam, are a cunt.
You and I met each other in high school and have barely seen each other since. In fact, the only reason I have spoken to you at all since then has been your desire to sleep with my male friends, and even then it was few an very far between. Despite this, you expect the same level of treatment my dear friends get when I do their hair. You expect me to come to you, color your hair, cut it, dry it, and style it, and you only want to pay me $45.
I explained after the first time I colored your hair, that you have an inhuman amount of hair, and while I at best use half a tube of color on my other clients, you require 4 entire tubes. $45 barely covers the cost of my materials. Let alone the 3-4 total time it takes to perform this feat. I am fast, but you well and truly have enough hair for 6 people. I also explained that your kitchen was not exactly the ideal place for me to be performing said feats. While spacious for a one bedroom apartment it's less than adequate for major haircolor projects. Later, during that same conversation, I explained that your bathtub, while indeed quite large, is a shitty place for me to be trying to rinse out your hair. Additionally, I let you know that when I make housecalls for other friends I have them rinse themselves out, that due to an old back injury bending ass over tea kettle to do something you can do yourself is somewhat out of the question. I added finally that generally my friends don't expect me to to style their hair afterward unless it's a special occasion or I'm feeling like it.
I went on to describe a place where I had a hydrolic chair, a full length mirror, a fully adjustable shampoo bowl, and all of my supplies. The salon where I pay rent to work out of. To your credit you did come the next time to my salon, albeit 2.5 hours late for your scheduled appointment. However the last time, this afternoon, you insisted we do it in your kitchen.
You insisted for a week actually. When I explained that my dog was very ill and would likely be put down the next day you seemed understanding. I told you when I felt up to packing up my bag of tricks and hauling it to your tiny apartment I would let you know. However on Friday evening, well past 11, you began to text me complaining that your hair looked horrible, and was in dire need of my assistance. I asked again if you could come to the shop, where I pay money to work out of, as I would be there all of Saturday. Again you insisted that I come to you. When I finally agreed, money is so tight these days I'm taking any work, you wanted "to just make sure we were extra careful with the dye, we didn't spill any last time, but we want to make sure we get our deposit back." I held my tongue and said not a problem. I said that depending on how business was on Saturday I would either go after work, or Sunday afternoon. Saturday you texted me no fewer than 8 times while I was in the middle of High English Tea with some of my actual friends. I asked if I could do it Sunday and you agreed. Sunday morning I was putting my eyebrows on when you began to text me making sure I had all my supplies I would need, and to make doubly sure I had a cape and flatiron. Again I held my tongue. When I arrived, on time, you had just started eating.
After you finished I started to mix your color, and you noticed I was using a different color line than normal. I explained that the color I normally use on you is nearly $10 a tube, and when I use 4 tubes to do your hair it makes little sense to use something so expensive. I went on to say that I was using the same color we used at the school, where I taught people to do hair, and that it would match. You then began to talk shit about the old color. You said your hair felt like straw, and that it faded quickly. When it came time to rinse you insisted I help. It was then, bent ass over tea kettle again, that you mentioned that you didn't think the "sink" at my shop was very comfortable. We finished washing your hair and proceeded to style it. You handed me a check for $45, and I left.
I could have mentioned that when you use coal tar based shampoos, even once a week, they strip out the color pretty effectively. I could have gone on to explain that if you don't use a thermal protection product before you blow dry and flat iron your hair it will feel like straw. Indeed I could have even gone over my 11 years of doing professional hair, the awards and recognition I was received, the print and editorial work I have been lucky enough to do. Could have elaborated that my going rate, which is very reasonable, for a haircut and color for someone with that amount hair would be $200, and while my dear friends receive a generous discount, none of them have ever paid me less than $50. Ever. On top of that they take great stacks of my cards and hand them out to everyone they meet. I could also tell you "no", which I intend to do in the future, but I know that looking for a job is tough, but now that you've found a good one I'm pretty sure the question of money has been answered [love the new flat screen btw].
I could have, but apparently you lack the listening and comprehension skills required for that information to make an impact.
You, Madam, are a cunt.
You and I met each other in high school and have barely seen each other since. In fact, the only reason I have spoken to you at all since then has been your desire to sleep with my male friends, and even then it was few an very far between. Despite this, you expect the same level of treatment my dear friends get when I do their hair. You expect me to come to you, color your hair, cut it, dry it, and style it, and you only want to pay me $45.
I explained after the first time I colored your hair, that you have an inhuman amount of hair, and while I at best use half a tube of color on my other clients, you require 4 entire tubes. $45 barely covers the cost of my materials. Let alone the 3-4 total time it takes to perform this feat. I am fast, but you well and truly have enough hair for 6 people. I also explained that your kitchen was not exactly the ideal place for me to be performing said feats. While spacious for a one bedroom apartment it's less than adequate for major haircolor projects. Later, during that same conversation, I explained that your bathtub, while indeed quite large, is a shitty place for me to be trying to rinse out your hair. Additionally, I let you know that when I make housecalls for other friends I have them rinse themselves out, that due to an old back injury bending ass over tea kettle to do something you can do yourself is somewhat out of the question. I added finally that generally my friends don't expect me to to style their hair afterward unless it's a special occasion or I'm feeling like it.
I went on to describe a place where I had a hydrolic chair, a full length mirror, a fully adjustable shampoo bowl, and all of my supplies. The salon where I pay rent to work out of. To your credit you did come the next time to my salon, albeit 2.5 hours late for your scheduled appointment. However the last time, this afternoon, you insisted we do it in your kitchen.
You insisted for a week actually. When I explained that my dog was very ill and would likely be put down the next day you seemed understanding. I told you when I felt up to packing up my bag of tricks and hauling it to your tiny apartment I would let you know. However on Friday evening, well past 11, you began to text me complaining that your hair looked horrible, and was in dire need of my assistance. I asked again if you could come to the shop, where I pay money to work out of, as I would be there all of Saturday. Again you insisted that I come to you. When I finally agreed, money is so tight these days I'm taking any work, you wanted "to just make sure we were extra careful with the dye, we didn't spill any last time, but we want to make sure we get our deposit back." I held my tongue and said not a problem. I said that depending on how business was on Saturday I would either go after work, or Sunday afternoon. Saturday you texted me no fewer than 8 times while I was in the middle of High English Tea with some of my actual friends. I asked if I could do it Sunday and you agreed. Sunday morning I was putting my eyebrows on when you began to text me making sure I had all my supplies I would need, and to make doubly sure I had a cape and flatiron. Again I held my tongue. When I arrived, on time, you had just started eating.
After you finished I started to mix your color, and you noticed I was using a different color line than normal. I explained that the color I normally use on you is nearly $10 a tube, and when I use 4 tubes to do your hair it makes little sense to use something so expensive. I went on to say that I was using the same color we used at the school, where I taught people to do hair, and that it would match. You then began to talk shit about the old color. You said your hair felt like straw, and that it faded quickly. When it came time to rinse you insisted I help. It was then, bent ass over tea kettle again, that you mentioned that you didn't think the "sink" at my shop was very comfortable. We finished washing your hair and proceeded to style it. You handed me a check for $45, and I left.
I could have mentioned that when you use coal tar based shampoos, even once a week, they strip out the color pretty effectively. I could have gone on to explain that if you don't use a thermal protection product before you blow dry and flat iron your hair it will feel like straw. Indeed I could have even gone over my 11 years of doing professional hair, the awards and recognition I was received, the print and editorial work I have been lucky enough to do. Could have elaborated that my going rate, which is very reasonable, for a haircut and color for someone with that amount hair would be $200, and while my dear friends receive a generous discount, none of them have ever paid me less than $50. Ever. On top of that they take great stacks of my cards and hand them out to everyone they meet. I could also tell you "no", which I intend to do in the future, but I know that looking for a job is tough, but now that you've found a good one I'm pretty sure the question of money has been answered [love the new flat screen btw].
I could have, but apparently you lack the listening and comprehension skills required for that information to make an impact.
and.....I think I dated that girl. ONCE.............