12 Beauty Salon Stories Funny Enough to Tell Instead of Jokes for Years

I went to a new salon a friend had recommended. I sit in the chair, and the stylist goes through my hair: “Well, there’s a lot of work to do. Did you dye it yourself?” I blushed.
And then, a woman plops down in the chair next to me, takes a closer look at me, points her finger, and suddenly says, “Whoa! That’s the hair color I need!”

In the past, I often visited barbers when I was on vacation in Europe, out of curiosity. The haircut that stood out to me the most was in Sicily.
In a small space with a door wide open to a narrow street lined with ancient buildings, there were 2 chairs where 2 barbers, around 50 years old, were working simultaneously. During their work, they were constantly engaged in a heated dialogue, sometimes dropping their tools to enhance their eloquence with gestures.
The client in the neighboring chair also joined the conversation. I didn’t know what they discussed, but gradually the debate intensified, and the barbers came together behind us with dramatic hand gestures, almost yelling.
The client next to me turned his chair to see the speakers’ faces and also wedged himself into the debate, but one barber sharply turned his chair back and began furiously snapping his scissors, while the other, to my surprise, hugged him and laughed.
Then, smiling, they returned to their work. I sat there poker-faced, mind blown, but no one was really paying me much attention — they were in their own world.

The client was scheduled for 7:00 p.m., but she called at 6:30 p.m. and said, “I’m here.” I told her to wait. When it was her time, I’d invite her in as I was working with another client. Then she texted me saying she was tired of waiting.
At 6:58 p.m., she started yelling, “How much longer do I have to wait? Do you understand my husband is hungry at home!” I repeated that the appointment was at 7:00 p.m., she just came early.
I gave her mustache removal, and she was very unhappy about it, and since then I haven’t responded to her messages.

I used to go to this manicure tech for several years. She worked very carefully, although slowly at first. Then she gained experience, started doing it quickly, but over time the quality began to suffer.
It’s like she’s doing everything half-heartedly now. She says she has a lot of clients, one after another, and no time to eat, that she’s sick of it all. She doesn’t want to take fewer clients because she’s saving up for a new car.
After the last visit, 2 nails broke within a week. It had never happened before. Well, I’ll look for a less tired technician.

I really like my manicurist. She’s the first one in my life I can actually talk to. But she takes 3 hours to do a manicure! I’m not exaggerating, a simple manicure takes 3 hours.
Last time she sped up a bit, it took 2 hours and 50 minutes. I really like her, but I just don’t want to spend so much time in the chair. My friends usually get their nails done in about an hour and a half.
So, I don’t know whether to find another tech or just be patient.

I once urgently made an appointment at a nail salon because I broke one nail. Everything was great, and once my nails were done, the technician squeezed some cream into her hand and said, “Let me see your hands.”
So I extended my hands, and she said, “No, not your hands, but your elbows.” I was confused and like, “Elbows?!” The technician confirmed, and somewhat bewildered, I offered her my elbows, resulting in the oddest, most perplexing massage I’ve ever had.

This girl used to come to me for manicures, and then one day she asks, “Can you fit my boyfriend in tomorrow?” I hadn’t had guys as clients before, but I agreed anyway.
The next day, the guy comes in, sits down, smiles, stretches out his hands, and they are covered in calluses! It turned out he’s always at the gym, hence the state of his hands.
In short, we got everything in order, and now he’s a regular client of mine. I was worried for nothing.

My son was into ballroom dancing, and one day he needed his hair done. We had an appointment with the stylist at 9:00 a.m. We arrived, but everything was closed. I called, and she had overslept.
We waited for about 40 minutes. Luckily, we had a little extra time, and our program started at 12:00 p.m. It was quite stressful for us. But the hairstyle turned out excellent.

I had just started working in the industry at that time. I used to take clients at home. It was my day off. I was lounging in the bathtub.
Suddenly, the doorbell rings, my husband answers it. He comes to me and says, “A client is here, asking for you.” I scheduled her on my day off by mistake. I felt really embarrassed.
I asked her to wait for 15 minutes. I probably never got dressed so quickly in my life.

Decided to save some money before prom, so I booked a makeup artist who worked at her home. I’m sitting in my evening dress, scared to move while the eyeliner is being applied. The cat is circling around the room.
At some point, the artist gets tired of it, takes the cat, and puts it on my lap: “Let it sit with you, it’s getting in the way.” No complaints about the kitty, but my whole dress ended up covered in fur.
Since then, I haven’t been stingy anymore. Now I only go to salons.

My lash technician, in the process of doing my eyelash extensions, said: “Sorry, I need to pick up the kids from school, it’s quick, just across the street, 15 minutes.” She left.
She was picking up 2 kids from school. When she closed the door, I heard a soft “mama.” She left her 2-year-old daughter with me.

It happened about 8 years ago. I went to the lash technician’s place for eyelash extensions, and it turned out she lived with her parents.
It’s summer, I’m in a dress, and the treatment table is positioned with my feet toward the door — which kept opening. Her father, sister, and brother kept coming into the room. In the kitchen, they were frying potatoes with onions, and the smell filled the entire apartment.
When I got home, my roommate asked why I smelled like onions. After that, I never go to a tech’s home, only to a salon.