Tips

The Boy: Off to get a haircut? Just remember, they'll say anything to get a fatter tip! Don't believe them!

Me: I know that!

I got a haircut last Saturday at a local hair salon. I like going there because it's cheap and really close to my apartment. Another perk to this place is that the hair washing usually comes with a luxurious 5 minute head and neck massage. The massage is the best part! I could just blissfully fall asleep on the chair as the washer massages my head.

But, they have this weird division of labor separating hair washers from hair cutters. It makes the tipping confusing because I don't know whether I'm supposed to tip the hair washer separately, or if the teams have tip splitting deals, as the Boy once suggested. After all, I've never seen a customer tip the hair washer, and it would seem a little awkward reaching into your purse with your hair dripping as the hair washer holds the towel on your head while walking you over to the hair cutter.

I walked into the salon, and the hostess (always friendly) sat me down into the hair washing chair. Immediately, an Asian lady came running over to wash my hair. A minute into the washing, she decided to start some small talk and asked "Where are you from?" I hesitated for a moment. I didn't know what to say. I knew the answer she was looking for, but she asked the wrong question. Normally, when I get this question, I answer "LA" or "from around here" which usually puts people off. I'm not trying to be a smartass; it's just that the answer they're looking for is technically a lie. How can I say I'm from a country that I've never set foot in?

But because the hair washer hadn't given me the scalp and neck massage yet, I didn't want to piss her off.

Me (timidly): I'm from around here.
Hair Washer: What? Sorry, I didn't catch that.
Me(still timid): Umm...here. I live close by.

The hair washer gave me one of those dissatisfied looks. Fearing that she was about to jip me of a massage in order to get her hands off my haughty American head sooner (after all, their tips are probably split, and the head massages are not advertised), I quickly added, "But my parents are from China."

Hair Washer (flashing a smile): Ahh, China! Where in China? Do you speak Cantonese or Mandarin?

Conversation continues, and the massage begins. I told her that my parents came from Southern China, that I understand Cantonese, and that most of my family is in the US. I always feel compelled to ask people questions about themselves if they ask me first. I feel rude not showing any interest at all in their lives if they've shown some in mine. So, I asked where she was from.

Hair Washer: I'm Chinese, but from Indonesia. You're so lucky that your family is here. I'm here all by myself. After the Indonesian Revolution, all Chinese people fled. They were looting the businesses and killing Chinese. The Indonesians hate Chinese. My brothers and sisters, we had to go wherever we could. I came to New York, my sister went to Amsterdam, my brother to Singapore, and another brother to Malaysia.

Ohh, the poor woman! Separated from her family, and made to wash hair all day long?! I'll slip her a little extra tip.

With that, she wrapped my head up in a towel and led me to the hair cutting chair. A cheery, Russian-sounding lady came to greet me and asked what I wanted. She was enthusiastic about everything! Two inches off, please. Wonderful!! I hate people that ask me to take off 1/16 of an inch. Good girl! How about some long layers? Brilliant! Long layers would be great! And then she began snipping away, cheerily chatting with me the whole time. About halfway through, she exclaimed in a voice reminiscent of Invana Trump, "Your hair-it's so wonderful to cut. It cuts like, like- it cuts like butter!" I had to snicker at this, but the flattery and sob stories did get to me.

By the time I'd left, the tips I handed out amounted to 35% of the hair cut price.