Regina, Destroyer of Hair

"because you get home and it's like, this morning I woke up and my hair was not where I want it, but it was okay, and then you're like, I AM PAYING YOU TO HELP MY HAIR LOOK BETTER" - jaime


I can no longer go to Supercuts because the last time I went got I stern talking to by the hair dresser because I showed up with gel in my hair, and when stern hair dresser recommended a $3 shampooing to take it out, I said "No, I'm stingy, and will not pay you three dollars for something I can do at home for 1/100th of the price."


Just think about it. For three dollars you sit in those uncomfortable chair craning your neck back into what is not a natural position while they sand blast your head with ice cold water. And while you're straining every muscle in your spine to support yourself, the dumb hair dresser says to you while scraping her nails across your scalp "ISN'T THIS RELAXING!?"


She has to scream over the sand blasting.


So no, lady, I'm not giving you three bucks to put me through hell.


I offered a compromise! I said, hey, how about you just rinse out the gel because I use really expensive hair gel and it comes out with water.


"No it doesn't" she says.


"....yes. Yes it does. I've been using it for like 6 years. I know it does."


"No, it still leaves a residue in the hair."


At this point I just want to say "Look, lady, THIS HAS NEVER BEEN AN ISSUE BEFORE IN MY ENTIRE LIFE UNTIL NOW, CLEARLY YOU ARE CRAZY." But I don't.


She begrudgingly sheers my head. She's annoyed. I'm annoyed. We're both annoyed, and I tip her 25% anyway and I leave annoyed. 


I can't go back to Supercuts anymore, not a single one in the chain, because sometimes they rotate their hairdressers and with MY LUCK I'm going to end up in the salon three cities away and she'll be there glowering. 


I tell myself it's fine. I've had people do poor jobs on my hair before, and normally I can cover it up when I put gel in it, so I'll just go to the Great Clips that's slightly farther away and this WON'T BE A PROBLEM.


I walk into the salon and there's one person working there and she's ready to see me.


"Hi Bryan! My name's Regina, I'll help you right over here!"


Regina.


I recognize this name. 


I recognize this name because last time I saw this woman, she butchered the shit out of my head.


"But that was a year ago!" I reassure myself, "maybe she's improved sing then after some practi--" NO


NO SHE HAS NOT.


Half of my head is now slightly longer than the other. There's a line around my head like a bowl cut. And when I get home to rinse out my head (because they never do it at these chain places) I quickly find that pretty much no matter what I do with the gel, there's absolutely nothing I can do make myself look like a normal human being (aka non-douche bag super queen) like I did this morning. This is the reason why I remember Regina's name.


My life is over. I envision working reception tomorrow and every member looking at me with an expression of "Why the hell did you let a beaver gnaw on your head for an hour?"


This is all until I realize that I'm going to walk into work tomorrow with an attitude of "What. This is the new thing. I'm SUPPOSED to look like this."


So damn you, Regina, destroyer of hair! Damn you and the 25% tip I gave you!