Some clients become closer than others, especially when they come frequently. Before the days of Dry Bar, some of my clients would come weekly for blowdries. These were mostly people who were busy or had difficulty styling their own hair. Or they were just people who really cared how they looked and had a lot of money to spend on themselves. One southern belle started coming to me in my early twenties, she was in her fifties at the time. My roommate had been doing her hair initially but started flaking on her when she started having a fling with one of our co-workers and broke off her relationship with her fiancé, it was a mess. The client couldn’t bare the thought of missing or rescheduling a blow out because some girls life was falling apart. I remember I was super intimidated by this client because she was very demanding, but to smooth over her bad behavior, acted like your best friend. She would talk you into coming in early for her or staying late, whatever it took, she made you feel like you had to make it work.

Being the people pleaser I was, I was a perfect target, with enough talent. Over time I ended up doing her hair more often than my roommate did. I ended up improving her original hair color formula and that’s when, honestly she thought I was the best. She took me under her wing and started bringing me little gifts. Eventually my roommate moved away and I would see her every week. Although I enjoyed doing her hair, it was a gorgeous red color with tons of volume and shine, which made me look like a genius. She was always calling me last minute to move her appointment or add an additional service and wouldn’t take no for an answer.

One Friday afternoon, I left early from the salon. Before I left I checked my schedule for the following day. Saturday is always our busiest day and so I was happy to see I didn’t have to be in until 10am. The following morning I arrived at the salon at 9:45 to find my client sitting in my chair furious, saying she made an appointment for 9:00 am just the day before, and had been waiting for me for forty five minutes. Unfortunately I was already booked at 10 am, so I told her I wouldn’t be able to see her until another day. She lost it… started screaming at me in the middle of the salon, saying I was unprofessional and not reliable.

Choking back tears, I tried to apologize thinking there really wasn’t anything for me to apologize for. I was certain there had been some mistake since I looked directly at the schedule before I left. We didn’t have cell phones in those days so we were at the mercy of land lines or a pager, which at that point I didn’t have.

Choking back tears I tried to explain again, I had another client coming and she simply refused to leave. I remember she sat there staring me as my boss took her for the blow dry. I knew, by then had gotten used to my way of doing things and thought my blow-dries were the only ones that lasted and I would have to hear about it for weeks, if she didn’t quit coming. About an hour later I found out she had called just after I left the day before and the front desk forgot to call and leave me a message on my answering machine at home. I went over as she was leaving and tried to explain it to her but she stormed out and didn’t call for a couple weeks, I thought that might be the last time I hear from her. I remember although I missed the steady money I felt a sense of relief not having to live up to her expectations anymore and wished she were gone for good.

One day about a month later her husband called to say she hadn’t been able to make her appointments because she was very sick. He wanted me to know she would have to have chemo and was told she would lose at least half of her hair. He asked if I could go to hospital and cut her hair and I of course agreed feeling horrible for wishing she was gone.

When I saw her there in the hospital bed she looked so good. A true southern belle with the charm and grace of a high society member. She was determined to cut her hair short before it started really falling out. I remember the long strands as they hit the floor still had the red shine, but her face looked tired and weak. I looked into her eyes and I just knew this experience, if it didn’t kill her, was going to change her. Although, we acted as if nothing had ever happened I worked toward forgiving her for being mean and demanding. I prayed for her, lit candles daily in the salon and reached out to her daughter to arrange a Christmas Tree and decorating of her home, before she was released from the hospital. She was touched and surprised to see all that we had done to arrange for her to have a beautiful Christmas that year. I’ll never forget how gorgeous she looked in that short haircut, then she lost her hair and wore a wig to match the short look instead of the bob.

Years past and she did make a full and amazing recovery. I remember being stunned at how her hair grew back grey and just we ended up leaving it, because it was honestly equally as beautiful. I saw her regularly for haircuts and although I moved salons she was willing to make the drive over to follow me, which I was grateful for. But it started to feel like she was doing me a favor by driving the distance over, after just a couple of visits. The conversations would start after she was annoyed to have to come so far and lead into stories about her life at home.

The constant complaining would lead me to attempt problem solving and lead no where, as she would blame the others in her life for her major frustrations. This kind of thing started to go to another level when one day I finished her haircut a little early and gave her the mirror to see the back. She’d been so lost in her complaining she hadn’t realized we were done. She looked at the clock and said, “You still have ten minutes until your next client.” It would have been a fine statement, except for the part where she was so annoyed and wanted to know why I’d, “Finished her early.” I explained that I didn’t work on an hourly basis and that her hair actually only took about forty minutes but usually we get chatting and it goes longer. Let’s just say she left frustrated and by the time she left, my next client had arrived.

It took a lot for me that night to keep from bringing home my frustration toward her. Stunned to see how she hadn’t really changed after all, but instead slipped back to the worst parts of her old self. Still with that southern drawl and carefully thought out charm, she was not a nice person. I recalled how many times she’d shared that she wrote letters to people she was upset with. She would tell them off in letters so that she didn’t have to face them again. Poof, they’d be destroyed with her words caring for no response. I got out a pen and wrote her a letter that night, eloquently putting words to my hurt feelings of being treated like a service provider, instead of a person whom she had a mutually respectful relationship with. I mean after everything we had been through together, after all these years, she treated me like I was just, the hired help. It was an eye opening experience for my naive self, it caused me to grow in understanding and having compassion for people who don’t feel essential.

A month passed until her next appointment and I never mailed the letter. I was working up the courage to give it to her in person instead when she arrived for her next appointment. That day was particularly tough because the client before her, whom was an absolute angel on earth, was coming across town in traffic and arrived about twenty minutes late. So I was juggling to catch up on time and the client who was late, was apologizing all over the place about causing me to have to rush. Honestly this lady was such a doll and what was sad about it was she barely had much hair at that point in time, because she’d been recovering from a serious health condition herself.

When my client arrived, it appeared through the window that I wasn’t right on time, as her perception was I still had work to do to finish. I will never forget it was seven minutes before her scheduled time when she flew in the door. She rudely reminded me of her appointment time and said she would be unable to wait long. I asked if she had an engagement to make that evening, to which she replied no. She repeated how her appointment time was specifically scheduled at that time. I remember the client I was working on squirming in the chair as she apologized for having caused the upset. I stopped her before she could explain herself, as I turned off the blowdryer finishing her hair, I was right on time. I gave her a quick hairspray, took her check and reset for the next client, shaking every second as I held back my rage and embarrassment for how she treated me and my previous client.

As I cut her hair, I made casual conversation as she carried on business as usual. When I finished her hair, I pulled off the cape, asked how she liked it. It was another fabulous job and she was eager to schedule as usual for her next appointment, this was my moment to shine. I looked at her directly in the eyes and explained this would be the last appointment. I let her know I had appreciated her business over the years but her rudeness and disrespect not only to me but to my client previous were the tipping point to me asking her to find a new hairstylist. The only word I can use to describe her response it would be flabbergasted. I never did give her the letter, or the satisfaction of having another second of my time. I politely asked her to leave and to have a nice life, and I never regretted having the courage to tell her to her face. It made me a stronger person having faced her that way and it helped me respect myself for speaking my truth.

My message is for anyone who knows in their gut, its time to move on from someone who doesn’t respect you, I’m here to say, you will feel the weight of the world lift off your shoulders when you do. Courage comes before confidence, don’t forget I said that.