So, I'm not sure if it's blatantly obvious (although I'm kind of convinced that it is) that I'm a bit neurotic and that my neuroses have a tendency to manifest themselves in odd way, like say, by anthromorphizing all the socks in the sock drawer, or having long, rambling rants about, oh, I don't know, just about ANYTHING!!! And I realize that the things I tend to get worked up about have absolutely no baring on anything ever. And my Salongate '07 is probably no exception. And yet, I find myself irked by the situation just the same. Here's the thing... I always go to Sabrina. Always. I've been going to her going on three years now and I'm fiercely loyal. Like fiercely. I now live a good hour + drive away from the salon and yet I will still go to her. I mean, it's only a 12 minute drive from my work over the bridge to the salon. Going home sucks, but yet I still go to her because in the 6+ years I've lived in the bay area. Sabrina and one other stylist (who used to work at the same salon, but moved away) are the only ones to truly get what I'm going for. Since Sabrina, I've had my hair cut by only one other girl there and that's because Sabrina was sick that day and I couldn't reschedule. I heart Sabrina. I like that we watch the same trashy t.v., I like that she rides a motorcycle. I like that she's tattooed and punky and sassy. And I like that after our time together, I come out looking fab. I tip well. Everything is good. It's a nice routine. I don't like it when my routine gets thrown off. End of Story.
So I get a call from the receptionist the day before yesterday, regarding my 4:30 appointment yesterday, but instead of Sabrina, she rattles off another name (who, for the sake of this essay shall remain nameless, because I feel bad about poo-pooing her in the previous essay, but who I'll call P). I get the voice mail all "That's weird. Maybe she said P by mistake but meant Sabrina." But then I get myself worked up into a tizzy about it all "OMG what if Sabrina left the Salon and totally DID NOT CALL ME to tell me she defected so the salon stuck me with whoever might be a suitable replacement. That totally better not happen." or "Maybe she went on vacation and didn't bother to tell me to reschedule for when she got back." So it became this big puzzler in my brain all day. Why I'd let myself be preoccupied with this, I have no idea, but is it really that surprising? Two words: Sock drawer. So I get there and right in front of me is my girl Bri. That's odd. Why did they say P if Sabrina is here? So then I have to talk to the receptionist, who in the 3 + years I've been going to that salon has only showed me one facet of her personality which I will here to for call her and the personality trait both "Put upon" with whom I have the following conversation:
Me: I have a 4:30
Put Upon: Yes with P.
Me: Wait. With who? Sabrina right? I always see Sabrina.
Put Upon: Says here it's P.
Me: But. Sabrina. You know me. I come in. I see Sabrina. I leave. How can I be seeing P? Sabrina. She's right there!
Put Upon: She's all booked up. I can reschedule you or you can see P.
Me: (A look of befuddlement on my face) But... But... Sabrina.
Put Upon: (A terse smile on her face) Reschedule or Smock. (Shoves Smock at me.)
Me: (Take smock, walk to changing room in shame and sadness).
As I'm waiting all dejected in their little waiting area, Sabrina spots me all "What're you doing here? You're not on my list." And I explain the situation, apologizing profusely and pouting "I wanted to see Yooouuuuu." to which she cheerily explains that it probably wasn't my fault. They've been having 'issues' she said. 'With the help' she said."And the Scheduling" she said. But I'm still bumming. So I have to deal with P, and her giving me the whole "You should really think about using our way overpriced blah with our other overpriced ble-da-blah because it'll do blah-de-blah-blah to your hair" schpeel which Sabrina has long since tempered, because I ain't buying the blah no matter what the blah-de-blah-blah it'll purportedly do to my hair, because do you have any idea what Fighting Nun will do to ME if I bring blah home, especially when he finds out how much I paid for it??? Yeah, not pretty. And then of course Pulp-Fiction-gate comes up and I don't have much to say after that. So then the haircut finishes, and P does a great job. The hair looks pretty fab, but as far as the whole experience goes, something felt missing. I can't explain it, it just felt... empty somehow. So then I have to deal with Put Upon again while getting rung out and I have to wait until P leaves the register to explain that I want to schedule another appointment with.... shifty eyes to make sure P isn't in hearing range, in low voice ... Sabrina. And now I've got all these weird pangs of anxiety all "Its going to be weird the next time I go in, because if P spots me and realizes I'm seeing Sabrina instead of her, she's going to be all 'Why aren't you seeing me? It's about Pulp Fiction isn't it?' and I'll have to be all 'Don't take this personally but....' and she'll be all mopey and it'll be all awkward.' and it feels all weird now. Thanks oh so much neuroses for kicking in right now. I ever so much appreciate it.
To top it all off, I tried explaining the dilemma to Fighting Nun, all "Awk. Ward. Hello." to which he responded "Just go see Sabrina." followed with an eye roll, which I think he needs to talk to an optometrist about because they happen so frequently as of late that they might get stuck in the back of his head. Anyhoo. So yeah, not a big deal? Of course it isn't. Am I making way more of it than I should be? Hello!! Have you met me?!? Of course I am. But still this whole thing is a bit weird. I mean seriously. Jesus.