Relationship

I used to work next to this hairdresser, a very good friend of mine at the time, who never hesitated to ask really personal questions, and he played out the role of psychologist, even though he was one of the most neurotic people I know.  "So how are you two really doing?  Are you having sex yet?"  My skin would crawl, it felt unprofessional.  And yet, he was booked solid.  He was known to be over-the-top sensitive, and a great listener, and he really did care.  And, yet he would get right in your buisness.  He attracted clients who liked that.

He gave, and gave, and gave.  He booked himself tight, haircut after haircut.  Lunch went down in five minutes, usually the fattiest, saltiest of foods, wtih a Coke.  After years of that pace, he vanished from his buisness.  Couldn't do it anymore.  Clients who had appointments, didn't get a call.  Clients of eighteen years wondered why. 

Done.

Personal Boundaries

During intermission at a women's event, after finding out what I did for a living, a woman asked, "Why do hairstylists assume they can ask you such personal questions?" I failed to ask what kind of questions did she find so personal. But it brought up a few subjects to explore in future posts. 

One: It is a two-way street. When somebody, especially a new client, sits in my chair, they divulge everything on the first visit. Wait! There was no time for intimacy to get established between us.

And on the flip side, I would expect new clients to fire me as a hairstylist if I asked too personal of questions without permission. 

Kitty Dies

As we cut her hair into a graduated, slight A-line bob, the tears flowed down her already tear-streaked face. "I had to put my kitty down last night." He was fourteen years old and had a cancerous tumor. Through the last couple of years of battling cancer, he would still maneuver his way down the steps to greet her when she came home, and Tina never asked how much the bill would be. The oncologist said, We're sorry, but he has a couple of days only. The oncologist and his assistant went to her house and put him to sleep. She made a comfortable place for him on his favorite chair in the TV room. She fed him baby food from her fingertip, and they sat together and watched TV.

She kept apologizing for her tears. I said, "Your heart is open; this is a beautiful thing." Her vulnerability struck me. She had never shown even a smidge of this side of her before. She said, 'I'm a schooled extrovert; I am an introvert.'

Her usual unruly hair that liked to kick out and not participate with the rest of the haircut lay down, smooth and shiny. Her hair had finally grown out enough to create this shape. The spunky ends didn't have to fight anymore.

Hairdresser enters Blog world

Hi, my name is Rebecca Beardsley. I work as a professional hairstylist in an upscale salon in Berkeley, CA. I've been styling hair for 24 years, and I have some thoughts about this experience. I'm finally diving into this known world to millions, the blog world, unknown to me. I want to write about what happens in the chair. While my writing may not be clever or edgy, I listen and observe. I have thoughts about what I see while standing behind the chair for thousands of hours. Will my posts make you jump out of your seat? I don't know. What I will write is what I see and go from there.