Saturday - October 17, 2020 - “The People’s Court” - Kellie Coppi

Thank You, Judge Milian.

I’m a girl with long hair. Long, straight hair. Arms heavy to try and braid it, hair. Hour and a half to curl it, hair. But I like my hair. And I like convenience, so what the heck, I figure I’ll get a permanent. Don’t do it, it’ll ruin your hair. I can hear my mother’s voice in my ear. Don’t do it. 

But I did it.

I went to the salon I’d gone to for years. A little pricey, but reliable. Got in at 11:30am. Cut, wash, curl. That’s odd, she put in 15 rollers? I’m an amateur and I at least use 30. Whatever, she’s a professional. I hold my tongue.  First mistake.

I sit there in the chair and read. Twenty minutes goes by and I’m told to go over to the sinks. Don’t wash your hair after a perm. I mean, even Legally Blonde told us all that when we were going up. What happens next?  My head is covered in soap from the shampoo that drips across my forehead. She’s a professional, this has got to be some kind of chemical balancing element. Second mistake.

Voila! How do you like it? The stylist asks me as she picks up a handful of limp, wet straight hair. It looks like what it looks like after I wash it at home. Yes, yes, but that is because it takes time to set. Three days. In three days wash it, scrunch it, and it’ll look beautiful. Okay, I trust you. Third mistake.

I leave. I’ve watched enough “People’s Court” to know to document everything. One photo every few hours.  That’s all it takes to so from “permed hair” to flat mess. That’s all it takes for four hundred dollars to gradually dissipate into thin air with no results. I call that evening.

“Hello, my hair has no curls, and you know I mentioned I wasn’t too fond of it in the salon.” 

Don’t worry, don’t worry, in three days it’ll be okay.

Day One. “Hello, it’s me again. I woke up and it’s a flat mess. I have photographs.” 

Are you using the gel you bought from us? 

“For fifty dollars I better damn well be.” 

Okay, just wait. 

Photographic evidence.

Day Two. “Hello, remember me? Nothing’s changed for the better.”

Oh I see.

“Can I speak to the owner?” 

She will be in tomorrow. 

“Great, I’ll see you then.”

Photograph.

Day Three. The big reveal! I can finally wash my hair to spring to life my gorgeous Goldilocks. Wash. Scrunch. Photograph. Nothing. But I did have three days worth of phone records.

I leave. I head back to the salon and sit in the waiting room. An older woman approaches me, very apologetically for making me wait. I show her my wet tangles of long, straight hair.

Come upstairs and let’s talk. 

I follow her lead. 

I’m very sorry, during your appointment my receptionist was calling me stating that your stylist did not put in enough rollers, and she shampooed the chemical out of your hair. You’ve been a long time customer and I want to make you happy. I’ll give you your money back but I want to make sure you remain our client. Or we can re-do the perm. It’s up to you.

I smile. “Thank you, you know, I don’t want you to think I changed my mind about the perm, so I’d really honestly just like it redone properly. I’d be happy to give someone else the opportunity to re-do it.” 

Oh that’s so wonderful, let me bring you down to our perm professional for a consultation. The woman who did your hair is good, but she’s not as seasoned. I’ll need to speak with her. 

“Okay thank you. And, not to be odd, but I’d want to be sure that the new stylist won’t take offense for no tip.” 

No worries, I’ve already told your first stylist to give the money to the new one. As a matter of fact, since the perm can’t be redone for a few weeks, stop by every week for some complementary blow outs and product for maintenance.  My apologies. 

“I don’t live that close but if I’m in the area, I’ll keep it in mind. I’m really just grateful to be getting a proper perm soon. Can I please have everything in writing?” 

Yes, absolutely. See you in four weeks for a complementary perm.

My “People’s Court” skills again shined through. It seemed like I had done the right thing. I gave them the opportunity to rectify the situation and I left happy. My week was looking better.

Until it wasn’t. Two weeks later I called to say I was going to come in for some product. No answer. Another day goes by. No answer. I stop by on the one day I’m in the area and approach a different receptionist. 

Oh, the owner is out of town. But you can’t get any product. 

But because of the prior discussion and written communication, I was told that I could.

No, sorry. 

I called the owner. “Hi, there must be some mistake, I’m here now and I’m being told I cannot get some product for maintenance?”

No, you never took us up on the offer to get touch ups and we actually didn’t do anything wrong.

“What? I’m sorry, I’m confused.”

I spoke with the stylist again, and she actually didn’t do anything wrong. 

“But what about our entire conversation? What about our written agreement?”

No, sorry. We’re not at fault. 

It was like an alternate reality just sprung up out of nowhere.

“Okay, I don’t know how comfortable I feel at this point to continue to get a complementary perm from you folks since this is turning into a bizarre encounter. At this point, I’d just like my money back.” 

No, we didn’t do anything wrong. 

“You said you originally were going to give me my money back, does that mean you would have reversed the charges on me after I left?” 

No, but I won’t give you your money back now. 

I was in shock.

Okay, let me send my business partner there to assess your hair. I reluctantly agree. I wait. He arrives. 

You have a perm. 

“Excuse me?” 

You have a perm. 

There was no greeting, nothing of logical significance. 

As I held up my straight hair, I asked, “Where? Where is the perm?” 

Your hair cannot take a perm, so that is your perm. 

“You just told me I have a perm, then you said I can’t take a perm, and your partner told me that she’d do a complementary perm in two weeks. I’m confused.”

You won’t be getting a free perm from us.

“I already have an appointment.”

Not for a perm.

“What? So now you’re telling me I gave you four hundred dollars, your stylist messed up my perm, your receptionist confirmed the error, your business partner admitted, apologized, tried to give me my money back but instead we compromised on a complementary re-do, and you’re now telling me that has all gone out the window?” 

We didn’t do anything wrong.

“What kind of illogical reasoning is this?”

You never should have done a perm. It doesn’t work with your hair.

“It was done incorrectly, which is what your staff admitted to and which is why I was given the written opportunity to do it again in a few weeks.”

No.

“No?”

No.

You know what? I don’t like you.

“Excuse me?”

I don’t like you.

His tone angrier and louder each time. 

I don’t like you.

And he walked out.

I called the owner, tried to plead my case again, using the only logic that seemed to be in the room. 

No, we did nothing wrong. You get nothing now.

I’m just as baffled as you are. I called my credit card company. Opened a dispute. Explained the aggression. Provided my photographic documentation. Provided my written proof of apology and anticipated complementary services. I got my money back. 

They made a permanent mistake trying to argue with someone who had all their ducks in a row. It seems as if outside of the courtroom small business owners like to push their luck with customers. I asked the credit card company if the credit card had to essentially eat the money or if the salon gave it back. I was told the salon reversed the charges, which is an admittance of guilt (or at least a desire to not get into bed with me on “The People’s Court.”)

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Kellie Coppi, EDD grew up on Long Island and always dreamed of living in New York City. After getting accepted Early Admissions into NYU Tisch, that dream was achieved. But now, she has another dream, to move back to Long Island to be closer to family and out of the hustle and bustle. With a fondness for everything Victorian and Turn of the century, Kellie finds time to delve into nostalgia when she's not writing about people and the lack of common sense that too frequently permeates today's world. Give her a dog and a book and she's set.