A few years back I started going to the nice salon in town. I had been doing the "walk-in" thing for years at different salons in the area, and - being blessed/cursed (depending on the day) with naturally very curly hair - let's just say that walk-ins, always, without exception, ended badly. I usually just ended up cutting my own hair... which ended up equally as badly, but at least I hadn't paid money for it. I tried the nice salon once, and was hooked. Yes, nice usually equals more expensive, but sometimes (like with paper towels and chocolate) "you get what you pay for". Nice sometimes comes with new rules of etiquette and a little more luxury too. For example, this new salon doesn't accept tips. This came as a huge relief, because I always hated paying for "poodle" at those walk-in salons and then trying to figure out how to thank the "groomer" with a monetary gift of appreciation. A luxury at the new salon was the offering of free beverages upon one's arrival. This was another pleasant surprise. That day, I would get more surprise than I had anticipated.
On a cold day in winter, I walked into my new salon, and the girl behind the counter asked me if I wanted a beverage. I responded in the affirmative and waited somewhat patiently as she gave me the list of choices - having been sold on "hot chocolate" ever since the two words escaped her lips somewhere near the top of the list. I always laugh that I'm not quite a grown-up yet, as I haven't acquired a taste for coffee - the real grownup beverage. So if there's a warm drink alternative like cider or hot cocoa... YES, ma'am. I'm in. When I told her I wanted the hot chocolate she smiled sweetly, and then narrowed her eyebrows with a devilish grin and said, "With cool whip?" Had I died and gone to heaven? Of course, with cool whip. Did she even have to ask? I wondered why she had given me that look when she asked about the cool whip - as if "cool" and "whip" were what Grandma would call "whisper words". When I nodded in the affirmative, she asked with greater enthusiasm, "Lots?" So I matched her enthusiasm with my response... we were so in sync. I liked this gal.
Well, as it turns out, in a salon there are lots of noises - water running in the basins, blow dryers, cash registers, and jingling bells on the door - not to mention the constant jibber-jabber that my husband would call "cackling and clucking". Apparently, above such din, the words "cool whip" sound uncannily like the similar and slightly less benign word - "kahlua" - a coffee flavored liqueur. And by liqueur, I mean an alcoholic beverage that barely qualifies as alcohol.
However, for a nearly perpetually pregnant/nursing mother who had barely ever consumed alcohol before this occasion, it ended in a little embarrassment.
As the girl brought me my beverage a few minutes later I couldn't help but think, "You know, for all the fuss she made over asking me if I wanted a lot of cool whip, this thing doesn't have one drop!" I am glad now that I hadn't mentioned the discrepancy to the girl, or my bumpkinnes (yet again another made up word) would have been revealed, and I would have been shunned from sophisticated society forever. I drank it, albeit with a little less enthusiasm than I would have had it contained my favorite whipped topping. It tasted a little funny, but these fancy salons and their flavored concoctions... can't just leave well enough alone. Hello, grandma. (Sometimes she just shows up.)
Anyway... by the time my stylist arrived at my chair, I was already feeling relaxed. Within a few minutes of the start of my haircut, I was giggling uncontrollably at everything she said. She asked if I was alright. Of course, I responded, "of course". She said, "Are you sure? You're acting funny." I told her she was too, and we laughed about that. Then she asked perceptively, "What are you having to drink?" I said, "Hot chocolate." She said, "With kahlua?" mmm... exsqueeze me? I responded (a little less guarded about my bumpkinness), "You know, I think so." She asked, "Who made it? Was it ___?" I said, "Yep." She said, "Oh, she likes to put a lot of kahlua in it." She then asked if I drank coffee, at which I thought, "Well, apparently I do if it's liqueur and swimming in a sea of hot chocolate." What I said was just, "Nope." And she had a girl bring me a glass of water. She took the rest of my hot cocoa away, and she started giving me water to drink. I said, "This is great! I have to go on duty in another hour." We both had a few more laughs at my expense that day - despite the fact she handled my drunkenness very professionally. I purposefully never mentioned the miscommunication that had occurred between me and the sweet gal up front... cool whip and kahlua... I was determined to keep a small portion of my dignity anyway. Apparently hair isn't the only thing that can get "cut off" at the salon these days. Who knew?
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