A woman calls the shop for henna, she wants it on a day that I don't work. She calls and calls because she HAS to have it on THIS day PLEASE!!!!!! So, I rearrange my day to meet her there and do the henna. She says she wants lower back and nipple designs and it is explained to her that she needs to wear appropriate clothing. 

The day comes and I arrive. And I wait, and I wait and well, you get the idea. She shows up an hour late and parks her brand new convertible BMW. One of those Double parked, blocking the door, half on the lawn, look at my car, parking jobs. 

She enters the shop. She doesn't just come in ..... she ENTERS! May I mention that she is wearing like 5 shirts and 3 bras and panty hose and pants and a belt and whatever else she had in her wardrobe that would make it difficult. Also, she just HAS to jog later and HAS to shower and HAS to do her yoga ... blah ... blah.... 

Finally we get to whining. The lower back design MUST go exactly where her belt will rub it off and she couldn't possibly leave in this outfit without the belt on, and so on, and so on. 

So as I battle my headache and try to henna she proceeds to tell me about her and her husbands incredibly successful law careers and how incredibly wealthy they are .... yay! I'm so happy for them! 

She hates the henna and has no problem telling me that it is nothing like the henna she got last time she was hennaed, on her honeymoon 31 years ago. Oh well. I'm still doin' my best. FINALLY she leaves. She thanks me and hands me a tip, all folded up right into my palm as they sometimes do. 

Whew! She's gone! I open my hand to check out the tip, after all, she's WILDLY successful and it must be a decent one. WOW!!!! A whole dollar! A lovely single dollar bill! 3 more of those and I can get some aspirin for my pounding head! 

So, I go back to my station and talk some trash about her with another artist. Then I hear the little ding that means the front door opened. I walk to the front to see who it is. HER AGAIN!!  Hello, I say, what's up? Um ..... you see .... my car won't start .... if I try to use the radio and drive at the same time it sometime does this. (The guys in the back are rolling with laughter!) My headache is suddenly gone as I look at her perfectly straight faced and say "You're kidding me! What a bummer, and your car, it's so FANCY and all"

2 morals to this story:
#1. Be careful who you treat like shit, you may have to face them again.
#2. sometimes a dead BMW is a great cure for Gryphoemia!

And also .... I will always have a special place in my heart for fancy Beemers!

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