Most of us have “go to” people, and we are the people that they “go to” as well. You know what I mean, the people we vent with, share our frustrations of life and the world in general. None of us mind because after all, we’re friends. That’s what we do. We share the good, the bad, a little bit of it all.
That said, however none of us particularly like being “dumped on”. No one wants to be the person in the grocery line that the guy in front of you tells you all about how his ex-wife has taken him to the cleaners or the lady behind you tells you she just broke up with her scummy cheating boyfriend. No one enjoys being the ear on the phone from the same mere acquaintance (not someone you call a friend) every day hearing how her mother called her fat when she was young, her father liked her sister better, her friend told lies on her, the bank short changed her, and the doctor did not listen to her. (Now of course, we can freely unload all this stuff on our blogs and if people don’t want to read about it they can skip us, right?!)
It’s a well known fact that hairdressers are the cheapest therapists around. I was a hairdresser for many years. You have no idea the crap people used to tell me. Sometimes, I just stood there with my mouth gaping open. They didn’t really want my advice…good thing since I was not trained “professionally” to give it. I think they more or less enjoyed watching shock swim across my face. I must admit it was entertaining at times. Working with other hairdressers was like being part of a soap opera all in it’s own. Back then I was young, I thrived on drama (…not so much now), and was quite thankful it was their garbage and not mine. Sometimes people would tell me all the sordid office politics not realizing that I also did their coworkers’ hair. Then there were cheating husbands and boyfriends, the attorneys and policemen who were dating “exotic” dancers, back stabbing coworkers, swindlers, users, and liars of sorts…I guess they all needed a place to unload. And then there were the normal people. You know the ones who really came to get their hair cut.
There was this one instance where a young woman accused me of having been at a bar with her husband dancing the night before. I’d never heard of the bar or been there. In fact at that point in my life, I’d never even been to a bar nor was I much of a dancer. I spent my weekends at frat parties with my husband. (He was a college student and I worked during the first few years of our marriage.) When I told the woman I’d never been to the bar, did not know her husband, and had been with my own husband, she told me it was ok that they had an open marriage. She kept telling me it was ok to admit I was with him. I continued to deny the charges and she told her friend I didn’t have to admit it because she knew it was me!
In all fairness, these people who unloaded on me back then had no idea that twenty years later we’d both have children who went to school together, played on the same sports teams, or were even friends. They had no idea I’d remember their faces, let alone their names, or their stories. So, maybe there is some truth to the saying “only your hairdresser knows for sure”. Yes, I still run into clients even now. And on occasion they recognize me, and I don’t remember them until they tell me where they worked or some tidbit of information they had shared with me. It’s only fair to say that I am friends with some of those past clients even now…no, they were not ones with sordid stories; they were the ones who formed friendships (rather than entertaining me) while getting their hair done.
I find it funny thinking back on it now. When I get my hair cut, I’d never consider airing my dirty laundry, not to a complete stranger or to the person I’ve grown to trust with my tresses. However, I must say I’ve heard a tale or two from a few of the hairdressers I’ve gone to through the years. Don’t think I’m not a talker…oh boy am I! It just happens that I save the good stuff for my “go to” people! Is my “No Dumping” sign worn out, rusted, and unreadable?