I have a love/hate relationship with my hair. As a child I always wished it were stick straight and dark brown. Only in the last few years have I come to embrace the fact that I’m a mousey-strawberry-brown curly-haired person. Only it’s not quite curly, it’s more this wavy and frizzy mess that I mostly keep under control through patronizing an expensive stylist and the judicious application of shampoos, conditioners and styling products that promise to tame my frizz while leaving my hair soft and manageable. This has meant embracing a styling regimen that means while my hair gets wet every day, it only sees shampoo on the weekends.
So we fast forward to this afternoon, I’ve got it in my calendar that I’m due for a between-cuts-trim on my hair today. Work is slow, I’m not feeling 100%, so I’m happy to get out of the office early and make my way to the salon in Belltown. It’s windy, cold, and as I previously mentioned—I’m not really feeling well. As I’m a few minutes early, I ducked into the Aveda salon next door to pick up a styling product they carry that I prefer to the line my salon carries. Normally, I make this purchase online or at the non-salon store at the mall, today I decided to brave the salon.
I was greeted by a gentleman in black who proceeded to attempt to interrogate me about my haircare routine while I tried to insist that I really just wanted to pick up this styling product and go. No, I don’t use the entire line. No, I don’t blow try my hair. He then proceeded to tell me that I should use the product another way, he had curly hair too you see, so he knew just what my problem was. No I said, my hair does what it wants, I just need to buy this.
At which point I discover that because he is a stylist, he is incapable of handling anything so bourgeois as money and goes to fetch someone from the back who can operate their cash register. If I hadn’t been vaguely stunned by his behavior and under the weather, I think I would have walked out without paying. I still wish I had. Certainly, I’m not going back there the next time I need product.
Dear salons, the way to turn a walk in customer into a repeat customer isn’t to insult how they’re taking care of their hair within the first few seconds they’ve entered your salon.
Insult to injury? My trim appointment is actually next week. I came home and took a nap.