Lessons Learned from a Bad Haircut

I’m a sucker for a great deal, so when I asked Google to search for a new hair salon to try out, the advertisement for a local salon with a deal for half off services with “a new stylist with 5 years of experience” really lured me in. I called and talked to… let’s call him “Snip”. He sounded nice enough. But looking back, my first question should’ve been, “Five years of experience doing what?” Because, as it turns out, I don’t think ol’ Snip’s experience had anything to do with doing hair.

In the beginning…

I settled myself in the chair and showed Snip a picture of my normal hair since I’d come in with a messy bun. I’ll go ahead and show you both so that you’ll have a great frame of reference for how all of this began.

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I asked Snip to just take me back to my natural hair color, no highlights. I used to babysit for my stylist in Texas in exchange for amazing hair because paying hundreds of dollars for three-color treatments just isn’t in this girl’s budget. So I was hoping for a regular shade of brown and a quick trim. Now, my second question should’ve been, “Think you can you do that, Snip?” Instead, I was just quiet because I’m nice.

The color

He started on my color and we chit-chatted for a while. I could tell that the owner of the salon had her eye on us. That made me feel a bit better since ol’ Snip was new to the salon. But as we chatted, he told me he’d worked here for the last five years as an assistant. At this point my third question should’ve been, “Is that the five years of experience that the website advertised?”, followed quickly by my fourth question, which should’ve been, “Have you actually ever cut a woman’s hair before?”

But instead I sat there being nice.

Now for those of you without curly hair, this picture might freak you out a bit, but I promise, even with a great stylist, this is what it looks like when a curly-girl goes to get her roots covered up. I wasn’t really worried at this point. I’m all about fresh starts and giving people chances and supporting young kids just starting out.

Side note:

As we chatted about Hawaii, he told me about how much he loves the Big Island because it hasn’t changed much over the years. I told him I’d enjoyed the Big Island when I lived in Hawaii as a kid. He then proceeded to tell me, “Yeah, it hasn’t changed much since then. It still has malt shops and diners.”

Now, no offense to those of you who grew up with malt shops and diners, but I am Vintage 1979 material over here, long after the malt shops and diners were a thing. I shrugged it off and didn’t say anything because I’m nice.

The trip to the bathroom…

While my color was setting, I asked if I could use the restroom. He politely said, “Right this way,” and I followed him through the salon and OUT THE FRONT DOOR, around the corner, past a dentist office, through a courtyard and to a bathroom. At this point, my fifth question should’ve been, “You really expect your customers to parade outside looking like this?” But I just followed him because I’m so stinking nice.

I obviously had some serious reservations at this point. Looking back, I wish I’d just finished up after the shampoo and thanked Snip for his time and headed on my merry way. The color actually turned out pretty good. Unfortunately, this is not the end of the story.

The best-shampoo-ever…

I went back for what was absolutely the best shampoo/condition/rinse of my life. I’m pretty sure Snip spent about 3o minutes washing my hair. And I didn’t complain one single bit. But maybe I should’ve asked the sixth question: “Snip, was your five years of experience as a hair washer?” Oh, why am I so nice?

We finished up the best-shampoo-ever and headed back to the chair. I’d told Snip I needed a trim when I’d made my appointment, but when I reminded him I needed one, he seemed surprised. My hair hasn’t been trimmed in well over a year, so my curls were all different lengths, which in hindsight, should’ve been pretty obvious to Snip. This leads me to the seventh question that I should’ve asked, “Snip, can’t you tell that my hair is 17 different lengths?” But again, I’m too nice.

Snip pulled out his brand new case of hair tools. He couldn’t find any clips and had to go borrow some. It was at that point that I noticed that Snip didn’t have much of anything at his station. No hairspray or styling products on the counter. There was a blowdryer. But looking back now, my eighth question should’ve been, “Snip, is this your first day?” But you know, NICE.

The haircut…

Snip proceeded to snip. and snip. and snip. I asked Snip to trim half an inch off my curly locks. I explained to Snip that curly hair shrinks and I didn’t want it to be super short. “Just a trim, Snip,” as he snip, snip, snipped. He was very slow and methodical and sighed a lot in between snips. There are so many questions I should’ve asked at this point that I think we’ll stop counting. His back was hurting from bending over to snip. I thought about mentioning the little bar on the chair that raises the customer up so that the stylist has a better angle, but for some reason, I couldn’t speak.

His manager was watching. She said, “Good job, Snip”, so I thought it must be going ok. Then his next customer came and the manager told him he had someone waiting. I glanced at my image in the mirror and thought, “He is not possibly almost done.” We were still miles away from ok.

Then, his manager said from across the salon, “That’s good enough, Snip.”

Good enough?

And that’s when I knew that none of this was ok.

Snip asked me if I wanted him to use the diffuser to dry my hair curly. I said no. My hair was already dry.

Snip asked me if I wanted any gel, mousse, or oil. I said no. So he put in some oil.

Snip asked me if I wanted to see the back. I said no. So he handed me a mirror so I could see the back.

I handed Snip my card and he told me he didn’t have a card reader yet and asked me if I had a check or cash. I dug to the bottom of my purse and found an old pad of checks (who writes checks anymore?) and so now we’ve also gotta watch the checking account and make sure Snip doesn’t do anything naughty with those numbers. I paid Snip for the amazing shampoo job and ran to my car.

My reaction…

Now, let me preface this picture by telling you that I cried. I cried literal tears. I have never cried literal tears after a trip to the salon before, but there’s a first time for everything, I guess. But then, I started sending this picture to my friends and we all laughed SO HARD. I laughed so hard I couldn’t breathe. I had tears streaming down my face and I was laughing the biggest belly-laugh that I’ve had in a long, long time.

Are you ready for this? Brace yourselves because THIS IS NOT A JOKE. This is Snip’s masterpiece.

No, FOR REAL. I’m not even kidding. Snip sent me out of the salon just like this. He cut about three inches off my hair and made me a lovely mousy brown. After I cried until I laughed and laughed until I cried, I went home and I straightened my hair. That was my first real look at the hack-job he did on my head. My family said it’s not that bad, and that’s true if you’re not looking really close. But Snip and I know better.

Lessons I learned from Snip:

1. Always ask the questions.
2. The hair salon is not the place to be nice.
3. When you feel like turning and running, turn and run.
4. Luckily, laughter through tears is my favorite emotion too, Snip.

Anybody have any salon recommendations for me?

Wanna see more from The Strong Home? Watch for A Peek Into Our Week every Sunday night! Here’s last week’s peek!