**Flashback **

"Sara! Come on, wake up! I have to go open up!" I can hear my mom bellow from the bottom of the stairs.

Ugh! Saturdays are the worst! Of course, I don't have school on the busiest day of the week! I squeeze my pillow over my head in the hopes that it will drown out my mom and make the night come faster. No dice.

Saturdays are when everyone comes to my mom's salon consistently throughout the day. No breaks! And today is actually going to be busier than usual. The homecoming dance is tonight. Of course, I'm not going! No one asked me. But all the girls from my school have appointments at the best salon in the county.

That just so happens to belong to my mom.

I know I'll have to help out. My mom and her small staff have some difficulty dealing with the sharp influx of customers when events like this arise. Even though I work every weekend, I am especially dreading going in today.

I've been anticipating the treatment I'm going to get for weeks. These girls' parents have never respected my mom. Why would they respect me?

It's easier to handle the distant stares and whispers in school, but it's much more difficult when it's my job to wait on my peers.

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When we arrive at the salon, the first thing I do is check the bookings. My first client is okay. Amanda Stoger. I had history with her last year. I don't really know her that well, but she never went out of her way to gossip about me. I skim the list until I find the name that I am dreading to see, which is, of course, lined up with my 3:00 spot. Oh goody!

Addison Leigh, along with her posse of brainwashed wannabes, always made an extra effort to make everyone hate me. It sounds cliche, I know, but that just angers me more. She couldn't even break the mold of a classic high school evil prom queen mean girl. She's awful. She's the genius behind the more popular kids at school calling me "The Help," for literally no reason.

I've learned that it comes with the territory. There's always been a stigma with people in the service industry. Everyone in my small town just adds fuel to the fire of each other's stereotypical ideologies.

Cosmetologists, or "hairdressers" as we are disdainfully recognized, are stupid, ditzy women who never got into college. In reality, this is not true at all. But a closed-minded person cannot be made to change their irrational beliefs.

I had never resented my mother's profession. She chose to be a cosmetologist because she loved it. She was passionate about her art.

By the way, cosmetology is an art. There are even shows and competitions dedicated to showcasing the stylists' talent. It's a pretty lucrative industry.

But in Wallace County, no one looks beyond my mom's quaint salon. Now if she had still owned her salon in the city, that would be a different story. Her line of work is an integral part of the city's glamorous image. But in my small, rural town, that means nothing.

My mom never really cared. At least, she wouldn't tell me it bothered her. She is the kind of person that doesn't get affected by the rude glares in the supermarket. She is too strong and has always had a lot of confidence. On top of that, she's a people-person. I'm not. Specifically when it comes to being extra nice to obnoxious and egotistical customers. My mom always tells me to just, "kill them with kindness," and thank God, I haven't cracked yet.

I guess it's kind of stupid once you think about it. The same people that look down upon us, pay us to make them feel beautiful. Ironic, isn't it?

No one ever acknowledges that, yet that's the whole point of the profession. At least, that's one of the things my mom loves the most about it. She loves to make everyone around her feel good about themselves. Many people don't realize how much it can really change a person's entire mindset when they have a boost in self-esteem. And you can't put a price on that.

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As I'm finishing up on Amanda's updo, I feel I am finally calm enough to not think about my 3:00 nightmare. Oops, sorry! I mean client! Working with hair, especially really intricate updos, were a huge stress reliever for me. In this case, they were a distraction as I anticipated the demands of what's probably going to be my most difficult client of all time.

Amanda didn't really talk the whole time, other than to explain to me how she wanted her hair. She's one of the shy, quiet kids. Like me. I added my final bobby pin and spritz of hairspray, then held the hand mirror to the back of her head so she can see the reflection in the mirror.

It was one of my more simple styles, but she had really emphasized that she wanted something light and sweet, not too flashy.

Her reaction, at first, was unreadable. But then, before I could say anything, she jumped up and pulled me into a tight hug. I saw her quickly wipe tears from her eyes. Honestly, it's in moments like these that I look past all the judgment and remember why what we do is so important. I could tell she truly felt beautiful, and that boosted my confidence too. She thanked me profusely, then went to the front desk where she paid. Before she left, I saw her talking to my mother at the door before she gave her a huge hug and skipped to her car.

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I lean against my station, tapping my foot, as I anxiously wait for Addison to enter the shop. At 3:15 the Queen Bee arrives, of course, accompanied by Drizella and Anastasia, the two ugly stepsisters. I would expect nothing less from Addison to show up fifteen minutes late, showing no regard for anyone else's time. I contemplated taking the next client, but, oddly enough, there was no one waiting. Just my luck!

Her bright blue eyes immediately stare me down. She shuffles over in her heels and shoves her iPhone in my face. "You are going to make me look like this, but 100 times better!"

And so it begins. I analyze the photo. I know no amount of hairspray would ever cover up her attitude, so she would never be attractive. But I could at least make her seem captivating on the outside.

"You do realize she has on extensions, right? That's not her real hair."

She rolls her eyes. "Just do it!"

"Okaaay." I make a face as I turn and I can see my mom silently scolding me from her station. I need to keep my cool. I may be shy, but I will not be stepped on. I just pray for the clock to speed up.

She is the type of client that looks down on her phone the whole time I am trying to style her hair. Does no one know etiquette anymore? This is not a one-sided process. The client needs to actively participate in order for their hair to turn out good. I stopped asking her to lift her head after the umpteenth time. I wanted to avoid confrontation at all costs. It's not my fault when a client doesn't listen to instructions, she'll just have to deal with the consequences.

After I curl and spray the last strand of hair by her face to perfect the look, she quickly glances up before her eyes are once again glued to her phone. I hear her let in a deep breath before she plasters a smile on her face and asks to speak to my manager.

I leave her to get my mom and when we both return to the station, I start to suspect what her plan was.

"Excuse me, but this is not at all what I wanted. I absolutely hate it and I refuse to pay for services that I am not completely satisfied with."

My mom might be nice, but she is tough when she needs to be. She has dealt with way more of these cases in her career than I have, so she immediately catches on to her scheme.

"I'm sorry. Whatever you dislike, I'll correct myself."

I don't think Addison was expecting a counter to her demand.

"I hate all of it. It's nothing like what I had shown to your daughter. And the customer is always right. Now, I will not bring my parents into this if you don't give me any trouble. Otherwise, I'm sure they'll tell all their friends how rude you are to your customers."

I can tell my mom's blood is boiling, but I don't think I would ever witness her yell at a customer. She is a professional. Me on the other hand, I was about to take my chance.

"Just go." My mom interrupted the speech I was mentally preparing so I could unleash my wrath on the girl who was trying to cheat my mother out of an expensive commission.

I watched silently as Addison and her gossip girls stormed out of the salon, smirks plastered on their faces.

"Mom, they planned it all along! Why didn't you make her pay? They just stole from us!"

"I know sweety, but, in this business, sometimes you just have to eat it and cut your losses. Imagine how much business we would have lost if the mayor and his wife started to bad-mouth us? We just couldn't take a hit like that."

It was then that I promised myself I would never, ever need to rely on doing hair.

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Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read my work. I hope you like it! 

 What did you think of Addison's threat? It certainly affected Sara's mindset and perspective on her mother's profession!

I would love to hear from you in the comments section.  I am open to helpful advice and constructive criticism, predictions, questions, etc., even if it has nothing to do with the story and you just want to know more about me!

Once more, thank you, and I hope I see you again next week!  

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*I do not own the photo of the salon: https://www.yelp.com/biz/salon-on-the-bluff-lake-bluff

*I do not own the hairstyle photos (Amanda's Hair: https://www.pinterest.com/pin/343540277808263856/ )(Addison's Hair: http://marcomanzoni.me/long-hairstyles-for-prom/hairstyles-ideas-hairstyles-for-prom-long-hair-simple-hairstyles-and-also-blue-hair-gel/) 

* I do not own the Sound of Music gif: http://thesoundofgifs.tumblr.com/post/115361901173/so-long-farewell-au-revoir-auf-wiedersehen

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Well...