Jobs I never had but should have 


#1 Hair Stylist (math comes in useful here)

A couple weeks ago when I looked in the mirror, a ghoulish creature stared back. My hair, also known as cartoon coif, was sticking out at odd angles and looked as if I were about to take flight. “That’s it,” I said. “I’m going to cut this mess and just see what happens. I am not getting another fifteen dollar haircut that looks like shit, and I’m not paying fifty bucks for nine minutes of scissor work.” Notice all the numbers in the preceding sentence?

I grabbed a comb and pulled one side of my hair straight up and slipped it between digits one and two like I’d seen stylists do. I hacked away and dumped a big handful of hair into the sink. When I pulled up the other side I stopped. Why carry on? The problem side was handled. It looked ok for about three days.

I was in over my head and I knew it. I made an appointment for a trim (fix) and when I showed up at the salon recommended by a new friend, a tall dude in a dress and black high top sneakers greeted me with a smirk. The person I’d booked with was out sick, but another woman was available to cut my hair. I sat in her chair, explained that I wanted just a half inch trim to fix the winged migration look of my head. She seemed to understand. And yet. I watched piles of hair falling from my head and rolled my eyes.

Did this woman have any idea what she was doing? I looked around for tell tale signs one might normally see in a hair salon. LIKE COSTMOTOLOGY LICENCES. There were none. I closed my eyes and listened to the conversation between the man/woman who had greeted me and his/her sidekick.

Tall Dude: Hey, What’s that movie you were talking about? Let’s watch it.

Sidekick: It’s called the Shape of Water.

Tall Dude: I heard it’s a true story?

Sidekick: Yeah, I think it is.

The Sidekick gives his version of a synopsis to the Tall Dude while I sit wondering if anyone in this shop even really works here. Perhaps the place is closed on Tuesdays and these three come in, somehow manage to watch hacked movies that have not yet been released, and take scissors to the manes of unsuspecting people who wander in. I am alone with this odd trinity, and it’s getting weirder by the minute.

The woman cutting my hair says, “Wow, you have really thick hair.” To which I reply, “Huh, funny that, most stylists say my hair is really thin, then they proceed to thin it out even more.” Which is exactly what this stylist is doing.

She asks me a few questions.

Stylist: Have any kids?

Me: Nope. You?

Stylist: Yeah, one. The thing I never considered before having a kid was how early I’d have to get up to take him to school. Like, I have to get up early every day now.

Me: Um.

Stylist: The other thing I never thought about before I became a stylist was that I was going to be covered with hair all the time.

Me: Um.

She shakes the sleeve of her lacy over shirt, feasibly to dislodge my thick hair from it, and lowers the chair. I am finally done, jumping out of the seat like my ass in on fire so I can pay and get out of there. But I’m curious so I ask the Tall Dude in the Dress and his Sidekick, “Are you guys watching the Shape of Water?”

Tall Dude: Yeah.

Me: How is that possible? It’s still in theatres and not released yet?

Tall Dude: I got a brother-in-law who knows how to boost a signal.

Me: Oh.

I put a twenty on the counter to cover another fifteen-dollar haircut and thank the woman. The experience was worth every penny, and the cut wasn’t half bad. It was half good. Yeah, that’s me, the glass is half full, girl.





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