Weenie Evolution

Remember when I was a sarcastic little twit who had no problem saying what was on my mind? I had the impression that I was usually right - okay, always right, and if you didn't agree you were just crazy. And just to make sure you understood me, I wouldn't hesitate to let you know exactly where you're wrong in your thinking. (My husband is saying, "What do you mean, you used to be like that?")

Some days I reminisce about the way I used to be and wish that I still had the courage, confidence, and general disregard for people's feelings that once defined who I was. (I was an obnoxious bully, to tell the truth.) But, boy, when I was in a difficult situation my attitude sure did come in handy.

Those who know me best still deal with this side of my personality, but somewhere along the way, (was it Junior High or my child-rearing years?) I realized that I didn't have to be so snarky and sharp with everybody. Particularly with people that I barely knew. It began with a conscious effort to say only nice things and grew into a conscious effort to be open-minded and concerned about other people's feelings.

I still sometimes struggle with the opposing forces within me, one that wants to say, "That's a beautiful shirt you have on," and the one that says, "I would have loved that shirt... when I was eight." The more I know someone, the more likely they're going to get the curt (and honest) response out of me. And when I'm feeling insecure, sometimes the nastiness surfaces uncontrollably, like the time I told my new neighbor, "Wow! I love your hair! It's so different, you look so... so domesticated now!" (There's a reason I refer to myself as the Queen of Inappropriate Conversation.)

Anyhow, my point is, I used to say what was on my mind, but now I try to be as polite as possible, which is a very good thing, right? What I'm noticing, however, is that some people just need to hear it like it is, and hurt feelings just shouldn't enter into the equation. Especially when they, themselves, are clueless to the damage they've inflicted. (What the heck is Colleen referring to, you ask?)

I'm talking about my hairdresser. We'll call her Amber. For the last year or so, I've been paying big bucks while receiving mediocre service, BAD color, and uneven cuts from Amber. Twenty years ago, I would have thrown a fit after the first bad cut, demanded a refund and walked the heck out of the salon, never to return again. (Of course, twenty years ago, I had hair all the way down my back and had it trimmed once a year - impossible to screw it up!) Regardless, if that trim was not up to standard, I would have thrown a fit. If only I could do that today...

After the first bad experience with Amber, I chalked it up to a 'bad day,' and went on with my life. After the second bad experience, I paid Amber (handsome tip and all) without saying a word, then later I complained to a friend and swore 'never again.' Weenie.

For my next appointment, I called on Amber's day off and feigned an emergency, requesting anybody who happened to have an opening that day. No confrontation, no hurt feelings, and we all win, right? Wonder of wonders, the lady that did my emergency cut and color did a great job! (Sadly, though, she is also one of Amber's best friends. Argh, the dilemma!)

The last time I needed my hair done, I figured I'd do the same thing. I'd just call up the salon on Amber's day off and tell them I need a cut right away while sneaking in the name of the lady who handled my previous 'emergency.' It was a great plan and I didn't feel too bad about it. Until Amber answered the phone. Guess who did my hair that day? Yep, and it was not good.

So today, Amber's day off, I once again called the salon, and the lady answered the phone with, "Colleen, we were just talking about you, we haven't seen you in ages!" Crap, they have Caller ID! I thought to myself, "Well no kidding, you haven't seen me in ages. My roots are grown out so long that you can see them from a block away, and only because I didn't have the nerve to call and make an appointment with someone other than Amber."

What I said, however, was, "Who is this, is this Amber?" She assured me that she was someone else and asked if I was ready for another appointment. I froze. I panicked. I did what comes naturally when I become insecure. Instead of just requesting another hairdresser, I rambled on for four minutes, (my Caller ID can verify this.) "Amber is a great girl and all, but she really has been botching my hair lately." Inappropriate conversation soon followed. "Amber's coloring was so poor that I needed to have touch-ups the day after she just gave me touch-ups. Her cuts are uneven and what's wrong with her, anyways? Babble babble babble. I want to see that other lady. She knows what she's doing. Can you manage that without Amber finding out?"

Needless to say, I have an appointment on Wednesday, and I have been assured that Amber will not be in the building. I was also told that it was normal for people to switch hairdressers, it wouldn't be taken personally by anybody, and they were grateful I was at least still giving my money to the salon in question. Good deal, now lets see if I actually make it to the appointment after this ordeal. For some reason, I'm actually nervous and embarrassed.

Does anybody else have a hard time switching hairdressers, or am I just a great big weenie?