Never Do What You Would Regret
When it comes to switching hairdressers, I am fickle
to a fault. I’ve never had a regular one because
each of them usually leave me dissatisfied. Either
Missy Eliot’s image is staring back at me on the
mirror when I paid them to make me look like
Rihanna’s twin or they are giving me a Bance’s haircut when I asked for Miley Cyrus’s haircut.
That’s how incompetent they are.
I wouldn’t blame any of them though. Its all my
fault for patronising mediocrity. Whenever I draw
up my monthly budget, I tend to leave an
embarrassingly meagre amount for hair styling
So yeah! I was looking forward to a nice relaxing
Saturday! Away from everything… a place where
they could pamper me…release some stress, make
my feet soft, give me new set of nails and make my
face more beautiful. YES! The beauty salon.
One other thing I noticed about these mediocre
salons are their terrible hygiene. Its either the
hairdresser is trying to wipe my face/neck with one
foul smelly towel or she’s releasing her Mangrove
Savannah forest armpit in my face! Ewwww.
These hairdressers act like they took a blood oath never to shave their armpits. Or are they trying to
rear wild animals there? If they can’t afford a
machete to clear that bush, its best they stay off
those sleeveless dresses before they choke an
innocent customer to death.
I also dread patronising an all girls saloon. Rather
than face their duties, they would size up new
customers from their feet to their head and your
appearance would determine how much effort they
put into your hair.
For instance, if Miss A, the younger sister of Linda Ikeji arrives with her Taiwan hair, Prada eyebrows,
her gucci eyelashes and LV shoes, and Miss B, the
proud ambassador of okrika company arrives at
the same time, those asslickers would not only
attend to Miss A first but also wash&rinse Miss A’s
hair with the best of their shampoos and twenty litres of bottled water while Miss B’s hair would be
washed with caustic soda soap and one sachet of
pure water.
Again, the most competent of their hairdressers
gets to make Miss A hair while the Miss B is allotted
to the 14 year old apprentice who barely knows how to weave.
So these and many other reasons were the
rationales that had me swearing Enough is Enough
when I kept 6k (against the 2k I usually spend for
both services) aside to spend on a perm and
pedicure at a highbrow salon. A salon where I’d be
treated like a princess. A salon where everyone is treated equally irrespective of their yaki flip,
Brazilian hair and Nigerian hair.
They all welcomed me with open arms when I
arrived that Victoria Island salon last Saturday
afternoon.
The place looked really classy. All the big girls that
trooped in looked like the hot sun has never
touched their tender skin…maybe, except for me. The salon was large, properly air conditioned with
about 12 hairdressers of both sexes.
“Sweetheart, You said you’re here for a perm and
pedicure right? Please relax and make yourself
comfortable. One of our staff would attend to you in
the next ten minutes.” A lady I presumed was their boss addressed me sweetly.
A total stranger just called me sweetheart. This is
the good life mehn, I thought.
Shortly after, one other girl brought a pack of juice
and a fruit cake for me.
“All these for me? Thank you very much.” I
collected and pounced on my snack hungrily.
That was undoubtedly the best cake I’ve had in
years. I’m sure you know how sweet free things taste??
One of the guys brought their pedicure bowl or
whatever they call that stuff and began massaging
my feet in warm water while I moaned in delight.
LoL
If this is what they call foreplay, I love it!
Halfway through the prep process, I called one of their attendants and asked how much a perm cost
without their relaxer.
“N5000″
“Jesus Christ!” I exclaimed, wriggling my feet from
the pedicure guy grip.
She told me my bills would amount to N12000
when they were done. 5k for the perm, 5k for the
pedicure and the most shocking part of all, 2k for
the snacks.
I just wanted to pee the juice on his face and vomit
their stupid cake into the pedicure bowl.
“You guys should have told me when I came in or
posted your rates! I didn’t even beg you people for
the stupid juice and tasteless cake!” I retorted
angrily.
Like I can’t buy gala and la casera in traffic if I really
craved snacks!
Good thing they didn’t touch my hair yet. I would
have probably been held there to assist in cleaning
of the saloon for a week or two.
The madam came to find out what the problem was
but I ignored her to save myself the
embarrassment. I paid 5K and walked out forever.
So much for the fun day I envisaged…
So that’s how I spent 3k to wash my feet (like I
don’t have lux soap at home) and 2k to drink juice
at a saloon.
For now, I’m going to be my own hairdresser till I
make mad money.
11th Commandment : Thou shall cut thy coat
according to thy size.
