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Another Bad Haircut — Thank Goodness for Humor

bad haircut

“Are these my shears?” the student hairdresser asked, one hand holding a section of my hair, the other holding a pair of shears above his head while he squinted in confusion. “They don’t feel right. Do they look right to you?”

“Uhhh…” I said, shifting to grab my purse and run.

“Uhhh…” his instructor said.

Taking a second look, his instructor pointed out the problem. “You’re holding them with the wrong fingers,” she said. “Use this finger instead.”

“Are you sure?” he asked.

Oh. my. gosh.

He moved the correct finger into the correct place, which only made his hand as awkward as if he was a 2-year-old holding safety scissors for the first time.

He moved to trim the section of my hair he had been holding, clumsy fingers and all.

I moved away.

He stopped and put the original finger back in place.

“No, that’s not it,” he said. “I use this finger instead.”

His instructor looked disturbed but shrugged. “If that’s the finger you’re used to using,” she said.

Then she took a closer look. “Your shears are upside down!” she said.

“What? Oh, that makes sense!” he breathed a sigh of relief, while flipping the shears right side up. Then he laughed at how funny the situation had been.

I didn’t join in his laughter.

In fact, I would have walked out of there at that moment if the instructor hadn’t stepped incredibly close to watch his very next move.

Sigh. I have a first-world problem, friends. I’m struggling to find a hairdresser.

After a terrible experience at a Great Clips, I had asked around and found a stylist who does an excellent job. I’ve been going to her for two years or so. The only problem? I don’t think she wants me as a client. I’m not sure it’s personal, but you never know. She’ll cut my hair, but I always feel as if she’s doing me a favor; that she’d rather be anywhere else. Maybe it’s me. Maybe she’s just so efficient she doesn’t think to make her clients feel like she’s happy for their business.

Whatever it is, I began to notice I was going weeks and weeks longer than I should between haircuts because I wasn’t too excited to feel like a burden on someone’s time.

But before I could find a new stylist, my split ends began making friends. “We’re multiplying here! Are you okay with that? Cool, because we all love having roommates and Sophie’s inviting her best friend to share her strand.”

I wanted to silence those split ends, so I decided to go to the local hair school. I actually used to go to hair schools for all my cuts and colors, and I had previously never had a bad experience. I feel pretty confident when I’m there because the students are learning the latest techniques. They’re immersed in those techniques, actually. Plus, their instructors have to inspect their work at different stages, so I normally always feel confident that mistakes will be caught before they’re irreparable.

And it’s super cheap!

They do, however, take an awful long time since they’re still learning, and that’s ultimately why I stopped going.

But since my split ends were having parties and refusing to clean up afterwards, and since I didn’t have another hairdresser, I decided I’d bite the bullet and deal with the drawn-out haircut.

There were hints I may have drawn the short stick when it came to the pick of the students though.

When he washed my hair, I began to wonder if I was on a Candid Camera-type show as water splashed all over my forehead and down my cheeks. I pictured the show’s host saying, “What she doesn’t know is he’s actually just standing back and spraying a hose on her head. Let’s see how long it will take for her to say something.”

When he blow-dried my hair, the cord kept knocking over the tools on his tray. And the hair dryer came unplugged three times.

But I just thought it was cute and endearing. I realized he was still learning, and understood these hiccups were just a small price to pay for the small price I was going to pay for the haircut. I still felt confident I’d get a decent haircut — because I always have.

But when he started cutting and blending and layering, well… I’m just glad the instructor was standing by, watching his every move.

“Is this the same technique I did last time?” he asked at one point.

“Yes,” she said.

He responded by saying he didn’t remember it at all. She stepped closer.

Once he had finished doing the technique he had already done but didn’t remember doing, he stood back in awe. “I really like the way that lays,” he said incredulously. It’s not a good sign when your hairdresser is surprised at how well he did.

“Yes, you did a great job,” his instructor said.

We both breathed a sigh of relief.

He forgot to cut my bangs, but I didn’t mention it.

(I think that was wise of me.)

I’m guessing he’ll have to endure a sit-down with his instructor about how to appear confident in front of clients. I, on the other hand, am going to just start shaving my head. With these types of hair experiences in the books, that seems like the most logical thing to do.

{If you haven’t read about my Great Clips experience from haircut hell, you should read it now. It’s funny… now.}

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