People are embarassed when they need therapy. This is stupid. Because I've yet to meet someone who couldn't use a little time every week to lay on a couch (or "davenport" as my Grandma used to call them) and complain. Regardless, because there are so many crazies runnin' around with built up bitch-fits to let out - they turn to me. Okay not really. But throughout college (and now the 3 months following my anti-climatic graduation) I've worked at a hair salon and it's becoming clear that during hard times not only do people LOVE to get their hair screwed with...they also use their time in the salon to release every dramatic saga and personal upheaval. This includes but is not limited to: husbands cheating, divorce, fertility, dandruff, job-loss, being fat, being friend-less, debt, stupid neighbors, stupid kids, malaria (yep), nostalgia, bikini waxes, back waxes, politics, and dying pets. Um, excuse me? And I can't figure out when this became okay. When did people decide, "ya know, my hair stylist looks like a nice chap...I think they'd be the perfect one to ask about my abnormal pap smear" No people. You just...gotta stop doing this. Especially to me. I have no life experience. I'm the assistant. I'm nothing. Please, attempt to treat me that way. All I can do is nod and smile and try to pretend like whatever dose of crazy you're throwing at me is perfectly common. I got nothing. In what other professions does this happen? I can't imagine going to the mall and telling the dressing room attendant at The Gap about my compartmentalized depression about being unemployed or the cyst that grew on my neck for 10 years and how my boyfriend popping it weirdly brought us closer. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO PEOPLE I DON'T KNOW. Thank God no one reads this blog...or else I could potentially be a hypocrite. And with my near-perfect reputation...we just can't have that ;)
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Comin out ya mouth with ya blah blah blah
People are embarassed when they need therapy. This is stupid. Because I've yet to meet someone who couldn't use a little time every week to lay on a couch (or "davenport" as my Grandma used to call them) and complain. Regardless, because there are so many crazies runnin' around with built up bitch-fits to let out - they turn to me. Okay not really. But throughout college (and now the 3 months following my anti-climatic graduation) I've worked at a hair salon and it's becoming clear that during hard times not only do people LOVE to get their hair screwed with...they also use their time in the salon to release every dramatic saga and personal upheaval. This includes but is not limited to: husbands cheating, divorce, fertility, dandruff, job-loss, being fat, being friend-less, debt, stupid neighbors, stupid kids, malaria (yep), nostalgia, bikini waxes, back waxes, politics, and dying pets. Um, excuse me? And I can't figure out when this became okay. When did people decide, "ya know, my hair stylist looks like a nice chap...I think they'd be the perfect one to ask about my abnormal pap smear" No people. You just...gotta stop doing this. Especially to me. I have no life experience. I'm the assistant. I'm nothing. Please, attempt to treat me that way. All I can do is nod and smile and try to pretend like whatever dose of crazy you're throwing at me is perfectly common. I got nothing. In what other professions does this happen? I can't imagine going to the mall and telling the dressing room attendant at The Gap about my compartmentalized depression about being unemployed or the cyst that grew on my neck for 10 years and how my boyfriend popping it weirdly brought us closer. I WOULD NEVER DO THAT TO PEOPLE I DON'T KNOW. Thank God no one reads this blog...or else I could potentially be a hypocrite. And with my near-perfect reputation...we just can't have that ;)
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