The driver gave her the all clear before she stepped out on the curb and dashed into my shop. As soon as the door was pulled closed, she started giving orders to close the shades and lock the door...like SHE owned the place.
My girls jumped to it as if a machine gun was in Maggie's hand instead of her purse. Satisfied the shop was locked down and the threat of becoming the Chicago Tribune's next days headline, Mrs. 'M' jerked off the turbaned towel and began to wail, "Just look at my hair!!! That Butcher Beauty Operator has ruined it."
You could hear the 'GASP' of all three of us Beauty Operators as we stood in the semi-darkened, locked, beauty shop in a stunned state as we stared at her neon orange stripped and spiked head of hair. I quickly slipped the scissors I was holding in my pocket.
By now, she was in a state of sobbing snot and smeared mascara. With all the compassion and care I could muster, I slipped the 'Mobster Mink' from her shoulders and seated her in a chair facing away from the mirrored wall. Then assured her we could restore her color and fix the 'Butchers Botched Bob'.
Soon the flaming stripes were covered with 'Mary T Goldman's Hair Restorer' and Maggie's botched bob was clipped and layered for the latest and stylish 'Wave'. "Now, Mrs. 'M' the very best thing for your new style is a perm, I said as I guided her over to the 'Perm Machine'.
"I don't know Mable, it looks kinda scary". You sure it's safe?
One threat of electrocution in the family these days is enough."