So I am wondering, does anyone that works at any of these retail, mall-chain stores care about their customers any more? Or is it just me? Or, taking it another step, just this side of the country? A few things have pissed me off since moving to the east cost. The most recent involved my hair.
Time for a trim! Yes, the top of my head was beginning to look like the statue of liberty again and Mandy was frustrated with her ‘do so we figured we’d whip down to the Emerald Square Mall and get a cut. We found a particular woman that we both felt did a decent job and were hoping that she was working. I arrived at Master Cuts first (Mandy went off on her own to do some errands) and I was pleased to see that there was only one person ahead of me, already in the back getting a shampoo. Spiffy – 10, maybe 15 minute wait and I’ll be on my way to shorter hair. So, I stood by the counter waiting for her to look up, see me there and acknowledge my very existence. Problem is, that did not happen. Very well, I’ll just sign in, that will ensure me the next spot in line and, hopefully, a timely cut. I put down my name and Mandy’s name – taking a quick glance between to see if I had been noticed – along with the time of 7:10 pm and then choose to pace around outside the front of the store for a moment or two, thinking my back and forth motion would catch someone’s eye. No luck. Elapsed time: 5 minutes. Since there was no point in wearing down the soles of my shoes any further, I took a seat against the wall and picked up the latest US Magazine with Christina Agulerra on the cover, looking rather skanky despite her best efforts to the contrary. After thumbing through the mag I decided to take a gander and see how the ladies in the back were doing. To my surprise, they had switched places; the one having her hair washed before now seemed to be doing something to the others forehead area – needless to say, I was confused.
“Can I help you?” – Hey, I got a response! Elapsed time, 10 minutes. “Yes,” I said, “I need a haircut.” (Which makes me wonder, what else do people ask for at a place like Master Cuts? There can’t be too large a variety of answers to that question.) “It will be 10 to 15 minutes,” came the reply. So, now that I’ve waited 10 minutes for what turned out to be an employee hair washing seminar, I now have to wait again while she works on her eyebrows? What the hell? So, I started to get pissed and decided to walk a bit. I found Mandy who (after a misunderstanding of which type of jewlery store she meant vs. what kind I meant) went off in search of neckwear so I decided to go back and wait and thumb through the latest ESPN The Magazine to see who they thought was going to win the superbowl.
By the time I got through my second magazine the elapsed time was now at 25 minutes, and they had again switched places. Christ! Enough! Mandy happened to be right around the corner and I took a couple of minutes to fill her in on the haps at this less than fine establishment. Needless to say she was not thrilled either. So, together we made our way back into the front of the salon and this time, were instantly noticed.
“Can I help you?” came the canned question. “We’re here to get our hair cut,” was Mandy’s response. Hers was that it would be 10 – 15 minutes. Another 10 – 15 minutes? The hell? It had been 30 minutes already. Thirty minutes of these two fucking around with each other’s hair and eyebrows while their customers have to wait. Paying customers, mind you. I had had enough, and so had Mandy, and she’d only been there for two minutes.
“Another ten to fifteen minutes?” I asked. “I can take you right away, it’s another 10 – 15 for you,” she said, referring to Mandy. “No thanks,” she replied, “you guys are too busy playing back there.” And she turned and walked off. I went to follow but had to throw my two cents in on my way out (so I could keep up with Mandy), “It looks like your customers don’t matter to you.” And I stormed off. Heh.
So, what did we learn? These folks did not seem to give a rats ass about us they were too busy playing with one another (not in a nasty sexual way, with these two you would have not wanted to see that); never mind that they have jobs there to take care of people in our situation – hair that is too long and pissing us off. All we ended up getting was more pissed. Fantastic. Hey, that’s an idea – maybe we’ll try Fantastic Sam’s next time.