At Work...

I am at the salon right now, and have pretty much finished up my clients for the day. We have a little unspoken protocol for this, which I interpret as I will stay for about another hour, and then I am out of here! We are paid on commission, based on what services we do. Unfortunately, this means we are not being paid hourly. And it gets pretty tiresome to just be sitting around, knowing your time is worth nothing.

Jay bought me this laptop for this very reason, so I wouldn't be as aggravated as usual, so I have something better to do than just sit here. I should really be using this time to study for my finals, but it is difficult to block out all the noise. I find that even just typing my thoughts reflect all the noise going on around me.

It is times like these that I realize just how desperately I need to get my degree completed so I can be doing something constructive. I never even wanted to do hair to begin with, and now I feel like 7 years later, I am in a really bad relationship that I can't seem to find a good enough reason to leave, let alone a good enough reason to stay. With that in mind, every opportunity I have had to leave (when I have sought and then offered other jobs), I always turn down. Just like an abusive relationship. I can't leave. I see that the door is open and no one is watching, yet I quietly close it and allow myself to be subject to unhappiness. I feel loyal to this place. I have been here for so long, and I have had the seven-year itch for about 5 years. I left 3 years ago and became a manager of a beauty supply store. Then, I realized that if I ever wanted out of the industry, I would need a degree. So I came crawling back to the salon, and was welcomed back with open arms. That was the first mistake I may have made in this unnecessarily long journey.


I always use the relationship metaphor for this job. I feel like no matter how unhappy I am, how much I bitch, how much I say I can't take it anymore, I always find some small, insignificant reason to stay. As I said, I never wanted to do hair to begin with, it was something I fell into during my past life, and I feel like leaving the business is the last thing I need to do in order to be completely and truly separated from that life.


I am a writer. I always have been. I even have tried to justify my unjustifiable commitment by saying that working in this atmosphere gives me plenty material. Unfortunately, the good material, the real nitty and gritty stuff is way too personal and obvious who it is about, to actually publish. I have so many stories that would blow the minds of many, but, I would probably end up paying out my ass any profits I make from the story.

(I wrote the above while at work, and now, several hours later, at home am finishing it up.)

While I was typing the last paragraph, my lap top yelled at me that its battery was low, thus I took it as a cue to take a break from the bitch fest. I went out to the salon and made jokes, entertained the clients, per usual. Then, about an hour later determined it was OK to leave. As much as I wanted to leave, and as entitled as I was to just leave (I am not getting paid), I stayed out of loyalty. Who would wash the color bowls and help out the other girls? As I took the trash out, laughing and joking, I once again felt that it was not too bad, it could be worse.

I finished my salon chores and while out back felt the sting of guilt for being such a bitch the past couple of days. I decided to make right. As I was walking out the door, I gave the two stylists that were there heartfelt hugs and apologized for the annoying behavior I had recently been displaying. This wasn't my first apology, and certainly not my last. Like a partner in a relationship, they hugged me back, offered words of understanding, and all is well again in our salon.

Just now, though, I can't help but once again compare this to a relationship I can't get out of. Here I am, feeling annoyed, unfulfilled, slightly used, and I come out from under my rock of frustration to apology, offering hugs and kisses to make it right. A circle that can't be broken unless I decide to stop drawing it. Maybe the next time I get an open window, I will take flight and leave, once and for all.