Typical Day
Sally Salon wakes up to her alarm at 6:35AM, eager to start her day. First stop: the bathroom, to fix her hair. Sally learned early on in her career that, in the cosmetology world, just one stray hair can cost you a client.
Sally emerges from the bathroom thirty minutes later, her hair in perfectly-layered beachy waves that look flexible and soft. Grabbing a piece of whole-grain toast with avocado (good for keeping hair shiny) on her way out the door, Sally arrives at the beauty salon by 7:55AM.
She's not usually there this early—certainly not on Saturday. But her first client of the day is a bride getting married at a church at noon, and Sally has a soft spot for weddings.
As she walks to her booth, Sally greets the other hairstylists and manicurists with a quick smile and wave. Then she sets to work lining up her tools: blow dryer, flat iron, comb, and her trusty clippers. Just as she's wiping down the seat she rents in the salon, her client—the bride—arrives. 8:00AM on the dot.
Behind her are the bride's mother, mother-in-law, and four bridesmaids. Sally groans. She already knows this won't go well. They'll each suggest ideas, interfere with Sally's work, and in the end, they won't like what Sally does anyway.
Gritting her teeth, Sally sets to work on an elaborate bouffant. When she's styled the hair, she puts her client under the large dryers in the back and hustles to the reception area to greet her next client.
After a quick introduction, Sally interrogates her client about what she wants. ("Two inches? One-and-a-half inches off? Bangs? Layers?") When she was first starting out six years ago, Sally had to learn to listen carefully to her clients. In the end, it doesn't matter if the cut Sally does looks better than the one the client had in mind. If you cut too much off, the client won't be happy, even if the result is amazing.
After cutting the woman's hair, Sally passes the client off to a junior apprentice who will do the washing and blow-drying.
Sally tries to speed the bridal party back towards her booth without looking like she's trying to move them along. Slowly, they meander across the room. It's now just 9:20AM and Sally already feels like she's had a full day. She quickly sets the bride's hair in ringlets and sends her on her way.
"Send me a photo of the wedding!" she adds quickly to the bride on her way out, knowing that she never will. Sally crosses her fingers, though, that the bride is feeling generous and that the tip she left is large.
With all this styling and running about, Sally has grown seriously hungry, so she wolfs down a handful of almonds. The receptionist at the welcome desk is about to take an early lunch break, and Sally—the employee most recently promoted from receptionist—is forced to cover for her. She spends the next hour answering the telephone, scheduling appointments, and restocking the candy jar. (Crucial jobs, all of them.)
At 1:30PM, Sally takes a quick lunch break before her scheduled 2:00PM appointment. She's been sticking to a diet of "super foods"—which today means a salmon, spinach, and berry salad. They're all foods that Sally remembers from her nutrition and chemistry classes as "clinically proven" to improve hair texture and sheen. Sally swears her diet makes a difference, though she also uses a weekly gloss treatment...so it's a little hard to know for sure.
Sally's 2:00PM, an older woman with graying hair, turns up a few minutes late. She wants a partial dye to cover some of her more evident gray spots. Sally prefers the cutting and blow-drying parts to the dying part; the chemicals in the dyes always get to her.
And after a day full of clients who need their hair dyed, everything starts to smell funny. Ultimately, though, it's not up to her. She does what the clients want, and this client wants blonde hair from the roots to the tip.
With a suppressed sigh, Sally puts on a pair of gloves and digs her fingers into the pasty dye, smearing it on the woman's hair one section at a time. She leans her face away from the dye as much as possible, but the chemicals still waft up into her face.
After seven more clients, Sally looks up at the clock, which is blinking 7:30PM. Relieved and so, so ready to go home, Sally begins to pack up all her tools and hangs up her smock. Heading to the reception desk, she picks up the tips from the day—enough for her ritual evening shopping at Trader Joe's—and heads home. After nearly twelve hours on her feet, it doesn't take long before Sally passes out.