My haircut appointment today was at 10:15 am. I had made the appointment yesterday with the person whom I assumed was a new stylist at the salon notwithstanding at the time she was seated at the front desk. She had greeted me I thought rather abruptly when I entered the salon, asking “Do you have an appointment?” without so much as a “How-do-you do?” Indeed I was at the time overwhelmed by the curtness of her so-called welcome. When I reported I was there to make an appointment, she asked “When?”, to which I replied “Tomorrow”. She followed this mirthful repartée with, “Do you care who with?” I said, “No” even though in all previous occasions at the salon I had been clipped by the male salon owner who at the time was engaged with a client. The new stylist did not say with whom I was scheduled but merely asked, “The name?” I replied, “Chapman”. She then interogated, “Is that your first name?” I said “No”. This succinct response was insufficient for her. She pressed me further. I told her my first name. She then addressed me by my first name, adding the time of the appointment. As I struggled to record the appointment on my iPhone, standing at the front desk while manipulating my stick, she did not offer to provide a written endorsement of the appointment.
