Today I went to get a haircut. I usually go to Mayfair in Bingham but today I went to a salon Glyn recommended: Essensuals.
I arrived two minutes late. I walked in and told the receptionist that I had an appointment. She looked at me blankly for a moment. I then realised that I had to give her my name. She looked in her book and her finger rested on an unintelligible scribble. She read out the number below it and it was indeed my phone number. She asked me to sit down.
I had been sitting down for a few minutes when she came over and asked me if she could take my coat. I thanked her and began removing it. Then just before I had removed my second sleeve I had a sudden thought. What if she steals it? Looking back on it, it does not seem likely but at the time I thought it very possible and refused to give her my coat. She looked slightly confused and returned to her desk.
I sat silently for a couple of minutes. Then I began worrying that I wouldn’t get a hair cut now. Maybe the salon refuses to give people hair cuts when they don’t hand their coats over. Maybe the whole coat thing was a trust exercise.
I was certain that this was the case by the time she came back with a robe. I told her that I had changed my mind and that I would like her to take my coat. She obliged. It looked like I had passed afterall.
I followed her to an empty seat which I assumed I was supposed to sit in. So I did. I sat perfectly still for what seemed like forever. I watched people walk past. There was one male hairdresser and immediately I could tell he was gay. I don’t know why I knew he was gay. He didn’t act very camp at all. I sat thinking about this for a short while, growing more conscious of the time. It was at this point I understood exactly what was happening.
They were getting revenge on me for the coat thing by playing a big joke on me.
I didn’t think that a hairdresser would come see me for at least an hour.
I was wrong. Becky appeared a couple of minutes later and apologised for keeping me waiting. We discussed my hair. She showed me the back of my head in a mirror. I burst out laughing. It looked ridiculous. She showed me a picture in a magazine and we agreed on how she was going to do it. She then asked me to change chairs and disappeared.
I was now in a seat backing a sink. This confused me somewhat. My confusion ended when another girl appeared and began putting a towel around my neck. It turned out that she wasn’t attempting to strangle me. In fact it was quite the opposite, she was going to wash my hair. This was the first time I had ever had my hair washed by someone else (not since I was very very little and my mum did it for me). It was quite weird. I began to wonder if I’d been washing my hair wrong all my life. I spend much less time massaging my scalp.
I was then wizzed back to my previous chair. The girl asked me if I wanted anything to read or a drink. Being offered a drink shocked me somewhat- it was not something I had been expecting. Instinctively I answered no. I thought they would charge me for it. They probably wouldn’t though, would they?
Becky reappeared and began cutting my hair. The man who I knew was gay popped over to say that he was going. Becky looked at the entrance and saw another man. She asked the male hairdresser if he was “the one you’ve told me about”. He smiled and nodded.
A short time after this she finished cutting my hair. She put some “light wax” in my hair which gave it quite a nice effect. I asked her if I could buy some from the salon and she said I could.
We walked back to the reception desk. She asked me if she could leave me with the receptionist. The receptionist didn’t look too scary. And after that nasty coat business had been sorted out she had been very nice. So I agreed. The receptionist got my coat and took my money. I didn’t get the wax, because I was far too scared by this point.
So I left.
