Abby popped her head around the corner just as I sat down in my chair to eat my lunch.

“I booked you for someone in about 20. A new client. He said he has a job interview and is desperate to look professional. You were the only one with time, seeing as you’re the only one here,” she said with a laugh.

I groaned and waved her off. “Fine. At least shut the door so I can eat my lunch,” I told her.

She rolled her eyes, gave me the finger, and then she shut the damn door.

The salon where I work was once a residential house. It’s split up into sections. The largest back section that had been the kitchen now contains three stall-like stations. Each has a chair for the house stylists. Perk: each one has a door. Non-perk: the walls are paper thin. We make do. As I... Read More