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Random, if quiet, act of kindness.
Oct. 15th, 2012 07:58 pmThe wind picked up here last night. Big time. Enough that, once I got out into it earlier in the day, I knew I really needed to get my hair cut, as it was getting longer and wavier than even a fairly famous Woodstock host (named Romney, btw;) would tolerate.
I'd stopped in to my usual chain-store cutter place a few days ago, but two guys walked in minutes (and in one case, seconds) before I did and the resulting wait was just too long. I went back today, since the salon is next to the bank branch where I continue to do battle with Underwriters From Hell over an issue over our refi that I seem to be the only one who understands.
Shorter wait today. Two stylists available: Christine, also the manager, who I know a little; and Danielle, younger and, if I may say from past attempts, better. The odds fell in my favor and Danielle called me over.
Or whispered, rather. She'd lost her voice between the last time I stopped in and today.
She had a sign at her chair:
Hi, I've lost my voice. I need your first and last names and how do you want your hair cut today?
I'd already given Christine the first requirements, and I showed her a picture of a relatively nice cut from a few months back that Diane (not appearing in this post) had done for me-
-and said, yeah, more or less, that. Plus, lose the sideburns and beat back the unibrow.
She smiled, she cut, but she did more than that to earn my respect and admiration today.
While she silently worked on my head, Christine was working on an older woman to our right. She only gets her hair cut twice a year or so, with a wig serving her for much of the rest of the year. Whether it's cancer, old age or vanity, I don't know or care. I heard Christine talking with her about it, and the client didn't have a regular place to bring her wig to be restored and renewed.
Danielle knew one. In a combination of whisper and Pidgin ASL, I grokked the word "Galleria"- the biggest-ass mall in these parts. When Christine's client was done, Danielle left me for a moment to write out the name (and, for all I know, the phone number) of the place so her co-worker's client could be more beautiful the other 10 months of the year.
When she finished our silent encounter- and I was almost as disabled as she, since I'd left my regular glasses at home on this sunny Monday and thus was a half-blind client with a half-mute stylist- I knew what had to be done. I gave her a $2-off coupon, lowering the tab to just over 10 bucks; my "9 cuts for the price of 8" card, for which today was the sixth; and a $20 bill, all my current money on my person, since Eleanor had taken the debit card to Wegmans with her.
"Keep it; you worked above and beyond today, not only for me, but especially for her," I said.
The smile in response was more than worth the modest overtipping.
You may think I done good. She did better, and it's a major charge to be able to let someone know it once in awhile.
I'd stopped in to my usual chain-store cutter place a few days ago, but two guys walked in minutes (and in one case, seconds) before I did and the resulting wait was just too long. I went back today, since the salon is next to the bank branch where I continue to do battle with Underwriters From Hell over an issue over our refi that I seem to be the only one who understands.
Shorter wait today. Two stylists available: Christine, also the manager, who I know a little; and Danielle, younger and, if I may say from past attempts, better. The odds fell in my favor and Danielle called me over.
Or whispered, rather. She'd lost her voice between the last time I stopped in and today.
She had a sign at her chair:
Hi, I've lost my voice. I need your first and last names and how do you want your hair cut today?
I'd already given Christine the first requirements, and I showed her a picture of a relatively nice cut from a few months back that Diane (not appearing in this post) had done for me-
-and said, yeah, more or less, that. Plus, lose the sideburns and beat back the unibrow.
She smiled, she cut, but she did more than that to earn my respect and admiration today.
While she silently worked on my head, Christine was working on an older woman to our right. She only gets her hair cut twice a year or so, with a wig serving her for much of the rest of the year. Whether it's cancer, old age or vanity, I don't know or care. I heard Christine talking with her about it, and the client didn't have a regular place to bring her wig to be restored and renewed.
Danielle knew one. In a combination of whisper and Pidgin ASL, I grokked the word "Galleria"- the biggest-ass mall in these parts. When Christine's client was done, Danielle left me for a moment to write out the name (and, for all I know, the phone number) of the place so her co-worker's client could be more beautiful the other 10 months of the year.
When she finished our silent encounter- and I was almost as disabled as she, since I'd left my regular glasses at home on this sunny Monday and thus was a half-blind client with a half-mute stylist- I knew what had to be done. I gave her a $2-off coupon, lowering the tab to just over 10 bucks; my "9 cuts for the price of 8" card, for which today was the sixth; and a $20 bill, all my current money on my person, since Eleanor had taken the debit card to Wegmans with her.
"Keep it; you worked above and beyond today, not only for me, but especially for her," I said.
The smile in response was more than worth the modest overtipping.
You may think I done good. She did better, and it's a major charge to be able to let someone know it once in awhile.