Friday, March 4, 2011

Single White Stylist

Here's part two of my stylist story, for part one click here.

I like to say that this is when she went all "Single White Female" on my ass, but I've never seen Single White Female, so if it doesn't apply just pretend it does. Mmmmkay?

Don't be an asshole.



I grab my cell phone and see an unfamiliar number.



"Yes, who is this?"

*Huge Sigh* "This is Michelle"


"Michelle your hairstylist! Don't you remember me?!?"

Oh shit.

"Oh yeah of course I do. Um, How's it goi-"

"Listen. I've quit the salon. Me and Tanya are opening our own place down the road and you need to come see me. Don't go back to the other place. Leslie is a bitch and she screwed me over so you better come see me at the new place."

I should point out that I have no idea who the fuck Leslie and Tanya are. It was my first time at the salon when I visited Michelle and I didn't even know her name, the name of my own professional stylist. She was too busy bitching me out and telling me about baby daddy drama to introduce herself or to fill me in on the latest happenings at the salon. So, yeah. WTF.

"Um, yeah. Okay. I'll call you and make an appointment."


"Well I got my book right here so let's go ahead and make it now. Tanya wants us to get full books so we can show those bitches that they screwed with the wrong people. How about Saturday at 11?"

It had been maybe three weeks since she had done my hilights. I'm doing good if I can scrape up the money to get my hair cut and hilighted every twelve weeks. So every three weeks?! Um. No. Ain't happening. Ever. And besides, wouldn't that be bad for my hair? Shouldn't she be concerned about over processing my luscious locks? I mean, she's a god damn professional y'all.

"Yeah, that's not gonna work. Lemme look at my schedule and get back to you okay?"

"Fine. Make sure you call back. You can't screw your hair up again after I put all that work into it, ya' hear? And if you don't get in my books Tanya's gonna be pissed. I told her I could depend on you."

And by screwing up my hair she means, ya' know, growing it.


And we hang up. An hour goes by and my phone rings again. It's her. I don't answer. She leaves a message:

"Amanda, it's Michelle. How long does it take you to check your schedule? *sarcastic laugh* I'm filling up fast so I need to know when to put you down for. Hurry and call me. Today."

The next day I receive another message:

"You forgot to call yesterday. Call me as soon as possible. It's important that you call. We need to talk."

Two days later:

"Amanda it's Michelle. Call me."

Then a day later:

"What the fuck!"

One week later:

"Hey Amanda, sugar. Girl, we need to talk. I don't know why you're not answering your phone. If you've been talking to Leslie don't believe a word of it, honey. You know my work is good and I want to fix your hair. I did good last time by you and it's only fair that you give me my due. If there's something wrong all I ask is that you talk to me. I just changed places and I can't be losing my regulars. We ain't even off the ground yet and you're doing this to me. Tanya's upset and I can't eat thinkin' about you bein' mad at me. Gimme a call, sugar. We'll work it out."

That was the last message I received from Psychopath Michelle. But she kept calling. She called me 17 times after the last message. I think she knew that when she had to be sweet the battle was lost. She probably kept calling so she could cuss my ass out. Sadly, she never had the pleasure.

So what did I do?

I went back to the salon and had the owner, Lesley, do my hair.

Leslie has been my stylist for two years.

I got 99 problems but a bitch ain't one...

1 comment:

  1. Very intersting story. Tells a lot about human nature. Some people don't realize that they are chopping off the very branch they are sitting on. Also some people need Imodium for their mouth.