A woman who appeared to be in her sixties entered the salon. A slightly creased snapshot with faded edges was in her hands.
The image showed a lovely woman with a soft smile and a short, tidy hairstyle.
The woman’s fingers were fidgeting with the picture, her eyes darted about anxiously, and she was a little slumped.
The receptionist, a young woman with beautiful makeup and a self-assured smile, met her at the door.
“How may I assist you?” she inquired, casting a critical glance at the guest.
“Are there any stylists available?” the woman asked shyly.
— Of course. Come on in, please.
The stylist was waiting for her in the chair, and the woman approached it gently. The stylist grinned, but her eyes didn’t warm up.
She said, “Sit down.” — What are your plans for today?
After a little pause, the old woman gave her the picture. Her voice faltered.
She whispered, “Could you style my hair like this?” It’s… really significant to me.
The stylist looked at the picture and hardly suppressed a sarcastic smile.
Grandma, are you serious? She snickered and added, “That haircut won’t suit you at all.”
However… “Please, I really want it,” the woman pleaded, sounding nearly begging.
The stylist answered, “Well, I can do it, but not for you.”
She then turned to face her coworkers and uttered the following loudly enough for everyone to hear:
Ladies, have a peek at what this elderly woman desires! She believes that she is a model! I will die of embarrassment if I give her that haircut!
The salon echoed with laughter. “Perhaps she’s going on a date,” someone replied. “With that haircut, she’ll look great even in her coffin,” said another.
Head lowered, the woman stood in the center of the room. The picture crumpled completely as her fingers tightened their hold on it. Her eyes glinted with tears, but she resisted crying.
She turned and left without saying a word.
The same woman went back to the same salon an hour later. The stylists immediately regretted their actions after freezing in disbelief.
The same woman was standing in the doorway, but she had changed. Her stance was straight and self-assured, her subtle makeup accentuated her features, and her well-groomed hair gleamed in the sunshine.
She was holding the same picture, but this time she boldly displayed it rather than hiding it.
There was silence in the salon. The receptionist was motionless as well, her mouth agape.
As she approached, she stated quietly, “Well, ladies.” — I received respectful treatment at another salon. They listened to me without passing judgment or laughing. And what you couldn’t do, they did.
She stopped, observing their mortified expressions.
She went on, “You didn’t even try to understand me.” — You found it simpler to laugh than to show kindness. I wanted more than simply a haircut. My son’s wedding is today. Since the day I buried my husband ten years ago, I have not had my hair trimmed or done. I wanted to look stunning for him today. for us both.
The quietness was almost palpable. The women were unable to raise their gazes.
“I hope,” she continued regretfully, “that someone will remind you of this day when you get older.” After that, you’ll realize how hurtful comments can be.
She turned around just as she was ready to go:
Oh, I nearly forgot. This salon’s owner is an old friend of mine. I believe she will be eager to learn about her amazing staff.
With a serene, proud smile, she left, leaving only the lingering smell of her perfume and a thick quiet.
