Killing Mind

Sometimes I have the kind of good hearty chuckle that helps you realise that you're doing just fine. Today, as I sat having my mop attended to, I had one of those moments.

A slender lady of maybe 30 hard years came and sat in the chair next to me. She wore long whispy blonde hair over her shoulders and quickly informed her hairdresser that they were extensions. She was in to have the darker areas that were appearing at the back of her head ("you know") bleached out a bit ("you know"). Since she had no inhibitions about talking, and I was within earshot, I came to learn a bit about this lady.

"Obviously you guys are really good. Cause it was really busy in here, so I just came in cause I thought, well they obviously are really good. You know? Like I can just tell things like that."

"I was thinking about maybe getting some black in there, like maybe her over there. Cause you know, like my girlfriend has it and I just love, you know, like interesting hair."

The hairdresser showed great training, and fielded the inane comments with skill and tact. Always on hand to give the expected response, "Yep, you're right." or "I know what you mean", she also handled the curly ones with calculated efficiency.

In response to the queries about black dye, the hairdresser responded, "Well with black tint on blonde, once it's in it's in. So we're not going to do it on a whim today. You're the kind of person that likes to try things and then changes their mind later, so why not just get the hair additions to try out a bleak streak?"

Anyway, blonde girl continued her revealing monologue.

"Cause my Dad's a laywer here and so I might be in with him and then I can just pop over here, you know?"

"Cause I'm a single mum, like I'm not with my husband any more. Do you, I mean, do any of you girls know how you live with rent and a baby and stuff? Like she's 8 months and I only get like $70 from the Dad and I might want to go shopping."

Hairdresser was quick to offer a hand: "Well, you get a job.".

"Yeah. No what I want is one of those guys. Um, yeah, Sugar Daddies. I mean he should care for me too. And he should be impotent."

Now I was really starting to enjoy it, and began to chuckle to myself. I suggested to my own hairdresser that perhaps she meant "sterile" or "asexual", not "impotent", but didn't want to ruin the fun by correcting her.

When blonde girl was offered a magazine, she declined, saying she had some homework to do. I was intrigued. What sort of homework could this girl possibly be doing? I was too far away to see the papers she was holding, but I needn't have worried - blonde girl was not afraid to share.

"What does this mean? 'Are you a dependant person when it comes to conducting day to day activities'. Does that mean, like, am I dependant or are others dependant?"

At this point I threw her a lifeline by explaining the question. It took great self-control to avoid voicing the assertion that by asking others to explain the question, she had already answered it.

"Oh, no, like I'm not dependant. Yeah, like I don't need others to do stuff like that".

It appeared she was doing some sort of psychology assessment, perhaps as part of the custody process for her kid? I was quite concerned that she was doing her own, but I'm sure there would have been cross checks... The next one was a doozy.

"What's inept?"

My second lifeline: "No good. Unskillful."

"Oh. Ha, I'm not inept. No, I'm good. Yeah that's fine."

"Jees this thing sounds like it is for mental people or something. Like, I'm not mental or anything."

Hairdresser girl pipes up, "Do you think mental people know that they're mental?"

"Yes! I mean, no, but I know. Like I know enough to know. Cause I get really bad depression. Like I was in hospital with depression."

Unfortunately my haircut was done by this point, but I did leave carrying a wry smile.