 Unasked question empties client's pockets
Inspired by a Maryland hair-nista
Tired of her drab and silver-streaked hair, Joy calls Frank, a stylist at a new salon she's been visiting for less than four months. So far, he's been pretty good and his prices have been fair. Normally, she's just gotten a wash, trim or touch-up. But today, Joy is feeling like she needs the works.
"Hey Kat, it's Joy. Does Frank have an opening today?" Waiting for a response from the salon receptionist, Joy drums the dresser. "He is? Great. I'll be there," Joy says with a lilt in her voice. "Tell him I'm coming for a color, highlights, cute cut and brow shaping. Not my usual, I know, but you only turn 40 once, right?"
Chuckling, Joy hangs up. She grabs her purse and car keys and leaves. All the way to the salon, Joy fantasizes about her new style. Would she go for a red-carpet looker and add some hair to rock a sharp ponytail with a Pompadour? Or perhaps, a mid-length bob with a big swoop bang.
"No, I have a better idea," Joy clucks parking her car.
Nearing the door, a bright and sunny sidewalk sign with the salon's name "The Chop Shop" welcomes her to the spot. She walks inside beaming. Frank waves her to his empty chair. She makes a beeline for his space. She plops down; Frank drapes a styling cape around his fairly new client.
"So, Joy, the works, huh?"
"Cut, color, shape my brows—just make me look good Frank," Joy says. "I'm looking old, man."
"Can't have you looking old, now can I," Frank asks. He turns Joy to the mirror assessing her hair. Joy closes her eyes.
Three hours later, Joy opens her eyes again. Not only was her mop top gone, but she also had the latest Angela Bassett cut, new color, highlights and shapely brows that matched her hair.
"How you like you now!" says Frank as a slight smirk crosses his face. He hands her a mirror.
Joy looks at herself from every angle imaginable. "Stunning," Joy says happily. "Frank, this is better than I imagined. How much do I owe you?"
"Three-fifty."
"Three hundred and fifty dollars!" Her elevated volume causes customers to lift dryer hoods and other stylists to shake their heads.
"Yes," Frank says calmly. "I gave you a wash, color, cut and brows as requested."
"Had I known, I would have just asked for the cut. Three-fifty is a car note, Frank, not a hairstyle. Shoot." Joy sighs quickly writing a check.
"I'm sorry. I thought you knew the prices," Frank says.
"How? I'm a new customer, remember?" Joy challenges.
"I guess I should have discussed this with you," Frank says apologetically.
"Yes, you should have. But, I should have asked as well. Here," she says handing him a check. "But don't cash it until tomorrow. I need to go to the bank."
"Not a problem," Frank says.
Joy takes a last look in the mirror grabs her purse heading to the door. Once outside, Joy fumes. She eyes the salon sign, and without warning, kicks the sign down Jackie Chan style.
"I'll give you a chop all right!" Joy says to no one in particular. She straightens her clothes, checks the street for traffic, then dashes across toward her parked car.
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