“The hair is the richest ornament of women.” --Martin Luther
I had the most amazing experience last week. I was perusing the ‘receptionist wanted’ ads on one of the job search engines and found one that looked very interesting. The owner of Scizzors Hair Salon in Shrewsbury was advertising for a full time Customer Care Service Provider (front desk receptionist) with “a dazzling personality”, among other qualities. (Yep - that’s me!) The slightly unconventional wording made his fun, gracious personality come through loud and clear, and that really appealed to me so I decided to apply even though I don’t have any experience working in a salon. (I may not have salon experience, however I’ve been a client in many different salons {not to mention that I routinely watch “Tabatha’s Salon Takeover”} so I’m well aware of what to do to make clients feel welcome and comfortable, as well as what NOT to do.)
The day after e-mailing my cover letter and resume, I had the thought that I should check the place out from a client’s perspective. If I didn’t like it I didn’t have to say anything, but if I did, maybe there’d be something I could say to someone that would make me stand out from the pack a bit. Plus I really did need a trim, so the timing was pretty fortuitous.
I called the salon to see if they had any openings for that day or the next. They had two appointments available the following day; a 4:00 pm appointment with Michael, and a 2:45 pm appointment with Bledi. I said that I’d take the 4:00 o’clock with Michael and I gave the woman my information. I was going to hang up then, but something inside nudged me to take the 2:45 appointment. Feeling a bit flaky but wanting to go with my intuition, I asked the woman if I could switch to the 2:45 with Bledi instead. Without missing a beat or making me feel the least bit silly or uncomfortable, she replied warmly, “of course!” and switched my appointment time. Hmm. Very friendly, upbeat and professional. So far they’re starting out heavily in the plus column. I started getting a little excited about this job opportunity.
It only takes Frank thirty-five minutes to get to work from our house, so I thought that giving myself forty minutes would be plenty of time since they were only a minute or two further up the road from where he works. Unfortunately I didn’t know to take Friday afternoon traffic into account, (plus I swear every single traffic light turned red as I approached!) so I wound up running almost fifteen minutes late. Good grief! Definitely NOT the first impression I wanted to make at a salon where I was hoping to get a job, even though I called from the car to inform them I was going to be late. Knowing I already had one large strike against me with my lack of experience, I was pretty deflated as I approached the building, feeling like I had just added another giant checkmark in the “reasons not to hire Lauren” column. Walking up the steps though, I gave myself a mental shake and said, “You’re not a negative person – don’t let this get you down. Go in there, smile, and show them what you’re made of!”
It’s interesting how the current circumstances in my life have made me more sensitive in my interaction with other people. For example, I’ve become much more aware of the truth to the saying, ‘It takes two to make a smile’. I can’t even begin to count the number of times I have gone into a store or restaurant in the past few months and in my initial encounter with one or more employees, my smile was answered back with either a blank, unsmiling expression or a phony, quick, little half-grin they shot back in a failed attempt to appear friendly. So the few times recently that I’ve been on the receiving end of an authentic smile have stood out to me.
Upon opening the door and stepping up into Scizzors, I was met with not one, but two women whose faces beamed “welcome” before the words even came out of their mouths . A happy, relaxed feeling spread through me right then and soothed the butterflies that had been fluttering in my stomach, making my own smile grow brighter in response.
They greeted me warmly, brushing aside all apologies for my tardiness. I was invited to sit while they informed Bledi I had arrived, and was offered coffee, tea, water, or wine while I waited. Although my throat was feeling a bit dry, I politely declined; sure that Murphy’s Law would go into effect since I wanted so much to make a good impression. Instead, I used the time to inspect my surroundings and absorb the atmosphere of the place. The salon was elegant without being pretentious, it was fashionable yet comfortable, very clean, and judging by the looks of the product shelves on the wall opposite the front desk, extremely tasteful and well organized.
Noticing they had quite an assortment of Moroccan Oil products, I got up to see exactly what they had (and if I could afford to get any of them). Money being a bit tight at the moment, I saw that the only thing I’d be able to get that day was the hair spray. I turned to ask one of the ladies at the desk about it. There are no hair products in existence that smell as heavenly as Moroccan Oil does to me, so I wondered if the hair spray smelled the same as the Oil. However, when I turned, standing behind me was a tall, stylish, handsome gentleman that I (correctly) assumed from his bearing was the owner, John Palmieri. Opening my mouth to say, “Hi! I applied for the front desk position you have available!” I said, “Can you tell me if the Moroccan Oil hair spray smells like the Oil itself?” Yeesh! Coward much?
He didn’t present an intimidating figure, nor did he seem as though he were in a great hurry. In fact he was very friendly and answered my question in such a way that I didn’t feel as though I were imposing on his time a bit. Still, I didn’t say anything about applying for the job. (I was feeling a bit tongue-tied right then) He told me to ask Bledi to use that hair spray on me when he was finished with my hair so I could smell it. (He said it smelled like perfume – and it does!)
Almost as soon as I thanked Mr. Palmieri for his help, Bledi came out to bring me back to his chair. Here was another tall, stylish, handsome gentleman and he had one of the warmest smiles I’ve ever seen on a man. His kind, gentle eyes crinkled at the corners as he got me settled into the chair at his station and asked what I was looking to have done with my hair. I explained what I wanted done, as well as the problems I’ve had with the way other hairdressers have interpreted my requests in the past, hoping that by doing so he wouldn’t have the same trouble. Asking intelligent questions while examining my hair, he inspired confidence that here, at last, was a hair stylist who could deliver on my vision. Having gotten that out of the way he said, “And how did you find us?” Oh boy. Well, I was hoping for an opportunity and one was presenting itself. So I took a deep breath and told him I’d applied for the front desk receptionist position.
I’m not sure exactly what I expected, but his reaction had the effects of both surprising me and inducing a mild panic attack. He waved to someone behind me and I turned to see the owner standing with his back to me, working on a client’s hair at another station. I felt my eyes widen as the rest of me froze momentarily and I said, “no, no, no!” to Bledi. He just smiled and said, “Yes!” He waved again and called to Mr. Palmieri to get his attention. When he had it, he said, gesturing to me, “Lauren applied for the Salon Coordinator position.” (I think that’s what he called it) I felt a sinking feeling in my stomach. Salon Coordinator? That sounds like it would require so much more experience than “Front Desk Receptionist” or even “Customer Care Service Provider”. However, still pretty confident that I’m the right person for the job, I told my doubts and the beginnings of the panic attack to take a flying leap and I chatted with Mr. Palmieri for a couple of minutes. He knew who I was right away when I told him I was the fruit loop who mentioned Tabatha Coffey in my cover letter/email. (Do I know how to stand out or what? The guy got 50 responses but he remembered mine right away – I’m still not sure if that’s a good thing or not.)
He told me at the end of our conversation not to take it personally that I didn’t hear back right away; he’s leaving in forty minutes for the airport to go to Atlanta with his family for the holiday weekend, but he’d be back on Tuesday and he was planning to tackle the resumes next week. It didn’t hit me until later, but if I had taken the 4:00 o’clock appointment I wouldn’t have had the opportunity to speak with him the way I did. I’m really hoping and praying that I made enough of a (positive) impression that despite my obvious lack of experience, he’ll call me in for an interview. (From my lips to God’s ears!) I honestly believe in my ability to do a fabulous job for them, so all I can do is hope I’m granted the opportunity to tell him that.
After he and I finished chatting and I explained to Bledi about my cochlear implants, I took off my processors and he led me over to the shampoo area. He got me comfortably situated in the chair and ever-so-carefully put my feet up on a stool. Then he proceeded to give me the world’s most incredible scalp massage. Seriously. I-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-e. I need to add here that I’d had a migraine a few days before. I can’t even remember the last time I had one (I don’t get them often at all) but this one was particularly nasty. Even though it was gone for the most part, I could still feel it hanging around a bit in the background, like it wasn’t entirely certain whether or not it was going away or if it was going to make an unwanted reappearance. Well after Bledi’s scalp massage (which included my neck and the top of my shoulders) the last vestiges of the headache disappeared completely. Ah, bliss!
He shampooed and conditioned my hair after that, then brought me back to his station so he could cut it. Even without my glasses on I could tell that although he was quick, he was also very precise; he checked and double checked to make sure he was keeping the layers and ends even. After he blew my hair dry, I looked at myself in the mirror with astonishment. I looked fantastic! He gave me exactly what I asked for, but it looked even better than I envisioned it. No joke. Better. When I told him this, he looked so pleased I almost started crying. He actually cared whether or not I was thrilled with my hair. Sure, I know it’s his job, but his pleasure in my delight was genuine.
I had a question then about the color of my hair so he called over one of their colorists, Amy, to answer it for me. (I colored it black in October and although much of it has faded and grown out, it’s still darker on the bottom half than on the top half) I’ve never had it colored in a salon, so I didn’t know if it would be easy or even possible to go from a darker color to a lighter one, or what to expect as far as damage to my hair or how much it would cost. Amy very nicely answered my questions to my satisfaction, so as soon as I’m able, I’m going to make an appointment to go in so she can fix my color. (Yippee!)
When I got up from his chair, Bledi told me that someone would call in a few days to make sure there were no problems with my haircut. He said that if there was a problem, I could come in and they’d be happy to take care of it for me. He smiled that warm, engaging smile again and told me he hopes I get the job. (He could have been saying that just to be nice, but I hope he actually meant it – everyone is so genuinely kind, I know that going to work there every day would be a pure joy) When he walked me back up front, he introduced me to the women behind the desk and told them I applied for the job. (I’m ashamed to admit that I was still so entranced from my scalp massage that I didn’t take in their names) We chatted for a minute while I paid for my haircut, and they very sweetly wished me luck with the job. (Again, they could have just said it to be nice, but I would honestly consider it a privilege to work there, so I can’t help hoping their well wishes are genuine.)
I walked in there not feeling especially great about myself (due to the whole “my husband is divorcing me” thing), but I walked out of there feeling cared about and genuinely special. I know they treat all of their clients the same way, but my collective experience with the staff members I interacted with, combined with the cheerful, refined, yet comfortable atmosphere of the salon itself, served to make me feel as though I was their most important client. What a precious gift that is! To have the ability to make people feel so pampered, so special... I want to work there more than ever now. I want to be a part of that. If I could play even a small role in helping others to feel the same way, I’d find my job to be incredibly rewarding and fulfilling. Doesn’t everyone dream of working a job like that?
When I got in my car I just sat there for a minute, and several tears ran down my face while I basked in the glow of my extraordinary experience. It may sound melodramatic, but truthfully I’m just not used to such kindness from strangers; even if I am paying them for a service. Plus, that kindness was like a balm to my wounded soul. I really needed that.
Whether or not I get the job, they now have a loyal customer in me.
