Fictionlet
“Hi,” said Brigid, “I need a haircut. I’d like to get something on the 15th after three o’clock, please.”
“All right,” said the woman’s voice on the other end of the line, “let me just see what we’ve got. Your name?”
“Brigid Franks.”
“And what stylist would you like?”
“I usually go with Anne, but anybody who’s available is fine.”
“Okay, the 15th. And you said you wanted a waxing, right?”
“Waxing? No, heck no. Just a haircut.”
“Okay, Anne has appointments at eleven, two, and four-thirty, but of course that last one is too late for a waxing.”
“I don’t want a waxing, just a haircut. Four-thirty is perfect, sign me up.”
The woman on the other end sighed. “I just told you, that one’s too late.”
“You said it was too late for a waxing.”
“It is,” said the woman, irritation rising in her voice. “How about two o’clock?”
“No, I can’t make it then, I’ll take four-thirty.”
“We don’t do waxings after four.”
“I don’t want a waxing,” said Brigid, “I just want a haircut.”
“You said you wanted a waxing!”
“No, you said I wanted a waxing, and I said that no, I want a haircut! Now sign me up for four-thirty already!”
“So you want to change your appointment from two to four-thirty and skip the waxing,” the voice said, with all indications of being through clenched teeth.
“I don’t see how I can change an appointment I never had, but whatever. Yes. Four-thirty on the 15th.”
“Wait,” said the woman, “I thought you said you wanted Anne.”
“Well, yes, I usually go with—”
“Anne won’t be working on the 15th. How about the 17th, at three-thirty?”
“The—?” snapped Brigid; then she stopped, swallowed, took a deep breath. She looked at her calendar, and said, “Okay, fine. The 17th, at three-thirty, I’ll take it.”
“Okay, you’re all set. Anne has that day off, but Michele will do your waxing for you. Bye.” *click*
Brigid sighed. Given her previous attempts, she was surprised it had gone so well.
-The Gneech
