Farouk

I didn't want to post about the goings on at the salon.  Heck, I had tried not to post about even being here, and had succeeded for nearly a year.  However, tonight warrants a post.

 

His name is Farouk.

 

Farouk came into the salon to get his hair colored.  He has been in many times before and so I found his client profile and pulled the same amount of color that was used on him every other time.

He said, in his thick Indian accent, that he didn't want his skin to be stained.  Yeah, great, not a problem.  I told him I have never stained a client (practicing on Elizabeth doesn't count), so I was sure everything would be great.

As soon as I put my hot pink cape on him he asked if I was going to use protective cream.  I smiled and said I'd never had to use any before, but if it would make him feel better I would grab some.  He told me that he definitely wanted me to use it.  Great, whatever.

 

I smeared the stuff all around his hairline.  Then I started putting on color.  (Which I've done SO MANY TIMES that its not something I even have to think about.)  Farouk told me that if I miss some grey hair along the hairline and in his sideburns it was OK.  I laughed and mentioned that there wasn't grey anywhere else.

 

As I applied color Farouk seemed more agitated, I reassured him I wasn't getting near the hairline.  (Although I thought it was stupid.)  I told him, again, that I have a way of getting haircolor off of skin easily, so everything was OK.  He put down his magazine and said, "I can't even pay attention to this anymore."

 

When I used up about half of the color in my bowl Farouk declared, "I have enough color on my head!"  I laughed (because that is just what I do, and I don't think I had stopped laughing the entire time he was there.)  As I put down my brush Farouk jumped toward the mirror with a facial expression so irate you would have thought I'd cut off his ear.

 

"You said you wouldn't get color on me and LOOK!  IT'S EVERYWHERE!"  (not true.)  I chuckled and explained to him that I take the color off the skin at the shampoo bowl, so everything was OK and there was no reason to worry.  He grabbed for a nearby towel and started scrubbing furiously at his forehead.  Oh my heavens!

 

I told him again: I have a way to get haircolor off the skin, but I need to do it at the shampoo bowl.  He scrubbed harder, then asked for more cream.  I handed him the container.

 

I wandered away because I didn't want Farouk to see me laughing hysterically.  I needed to keep the color on his hair for about 30 more minutes.  Eek.

 

I walked back to my station to find Farouk scrubbing then adding cream, and scrubbing a new spot.  I said, "Ok, just about 25 more minutes, then we'll wash you.  And I will take the color off at the shampoo bowl."  He looked up, aghast.  "No, tonight we wash in 10."  Bwahaha.  Ok, whatever, dude.

 

I led him to the shampoo bowl and scrubbed every last bit of color off his face.  (Haircolor will only be removed by: haircolor remover liquid or more haircolor.)  As soon as I wrapped the towel over his head he bolted for the mirror.  He glared at his hairline then at me.  He said, "Can you see this right here?!"  Honestly, the man had such discolored skin anyway (blotchy everywhere), I couldn't see where this obvious elephant sized stain was.  I told him that no, I didn't see it.  He looked at me like I'd told him I was his love child.  He proclaimed, "You need to see an eye doctor."  Jerk.

 

I left him to his scrubbing for a few minutes (I went to tell the receptionist to NEVER book him for me again) and when I came back his hairline was bright pink.  He said, "You don't see this?"  I said, "No, I really don't."  He glared and said, "Maybe thats why you think you never stain anyone."  Ugh.  I said, "Sir, you don't need to be mean to me."  He retorted, "You were mean to me!"  What the crap?

 

I said, "Sir, I haven't been mean to you at all."  He said, "You were mean to me when you said you wouldn't get it on me and IT'S EVERYWHERE!"

 

Now, I am not an angry person.  Very few things make me actually angry.  (Ask Deborah, she could probably pick out a few. ;) )  But that completely ticked me off.

 

I grabbed his client profile and said, "This will be at the front desk.  You can go up there when you're ready.  I'm leaving."  and I walked away.  I asked the receptionist to please go get him from my station if he didn't come up to her desk in the next few minutes, and that if she needed me I'd be in the lounge (where I am at this moment.)

 

Such an idiot.