"Would you just shut up? You don't even know what we're talking about." The words cut through the air like swords at a Naval wedding.
Was it a joke? Was it playful teasing? Was it just a case of one woman being mean to another? I wasn't sure. I tried to ignore the whole thing as I shrunk further into my chair.
The manager and my stylist resumed their conversation about stolen samples. Apparently the salon had received a large box of product samples, but someone had made off with all of them. My stylist agreed that she would buy some of the shampoo and conditioner because she really wanted to try it.
Once the agreement was made, silence fell over the salon. Uncomfortable, tense silence.
Later, as I sat under the hair dryer, I heard another side of things.
"We just don't get along," the woman who had been on the receiving end of the cutting words said.
"Why not?" a third woman asked. My stylist, the one who had yelled "Would you just shut up," was was over on the other side of the room. She couldn't hear the conversation.
"Mostly because she's a bitch and I'm not," the woman replied.
That answered that. The original words were meant to be mean. The feeling was mutual.
I tried to ignore the conversation as they continued on and on and on. Hurtful, horrible words were thrown around. They laughed as they called their co-worker cruel names. They enjoyed every second of wallowing in a puddle of Mean Girl Antics.
I sat pondering why it is that women are so awful to one another. Why do we talk about one another like that? And why in front of customers? Everything about the exchange was utterly and completely unprofessional and unnecessary. I began to consider how I would go about interrupting them. I didn't care if I hurt their feelings. I needed silence to wrap around me.
Just as I was about to say something, one of the women suddenly realized she had a client that she should consider talking to. She was waxing her eyebrows, but had hardly even glanced at the teenage girl as she slathered on the wax.
"Do you want me to wax your lip, too? It looks terrible."
And suddenly I was angry. The client was no more than 16 or 17-years old. There was no need to tell her that anything about her was anything less than perfect. Unfortunately, the young girl had already read the memo that her Italian heritage had given her something that needed to be tamed. "I usually do it myself," she replied.
"I'll do a better job than you can at home," the stylist told the young girl.
Talk about rude. My blood started to boil so fast that I couldn't find words. Eventually I managed to form a few sentences as I complained to the manager about the hostile environment she was tolerating. It's on her to stop it, right? I mean, miracles aren't going to happen, but shouldn't people be required to at least be civil to one another when customers are around? And shouldn't the exercise a little kindness towards customers?
Women can be so ugly. It's truly a wonder men have anything to do with us.
Here's to hoping this one never gets sucked into that sort of drama.
