Saturday, May 05, 2012

I Hate to Complain, But...

Before I complain about complaining, I want to say thank you to the readers who commented on my latest tutorial/giveaway, Kate W. and AKM.  Well, you are both such sweet readers I decided to just make a second necklace and let you both be winners!  Yay!  Watch for your peacock pendants in your mailboxes soon.

Now, onto another topic...

Yesterday I had to make a complaint.  I had paid someone for a service and there was a problem.  I'd thought there was a problem at the time I made payment but I wasn't firm and I wasn't insistent.  Those of you who know me are not surprised by this, I'm sure.  I so admire people who are able to state their needs and get what they pay for.  I have a weakness in this area... a BIG weakness.

I lost sleep this week having imaginary conversations in my head with the person I needed to call.  I fretted and worried.  It was stupid.  When I finally made the call, it took a whole 2 minutes and the person was polite and understanding and agreeable.  It was simply no big deal.

To give you an idea of my weakness, I am going to tell you a story.

When I was 7 months pregnant with Sam, we were visiting my Mom.  As is my nature, I suddenly HAD to have a new haircut.  Mom took me to the place where she got her hair cut.  I was happy when we walked in and I saw a poster with the model wearing exactly the haircut I wanted.  It was something like this:


It's cute, huh?  I liked that it was a short style but the top layers were long enough for plenty of movement  As the lady cut my hair she kept commenting that I certainly had thick hair.  My Mom told me later that she was thinning it as she said that.  I was turned away from the mirror so I didn't really know what was going on.  When she was done, I looked like this:


The top was so short it wouldn't even lay down.  She'd thinned big chunks clear to my scalp, leaving only bristles.  There were virtually no bangs left.  The sides were most definitely up over my ears.


I was so upset!  I wanted to cry.  With my extra large body at the time, I felt like a pinhead.  To make things worse, we were going to a family reunion soon, with Mike's side of the family.  I was to be in all the family photos with a hairdo that most definitely did not feel like "me".

Do you think that when I looked in the mirror at the salon I shrieked?  Nope.  Do you think I asked the woman, "What did you do to me!!!??"  Nope.  Do you think I even pointed out to her that my hair looked nothing like the photo?  Nope.

I gave her a tip.