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There was a time, not too long ago, when I was at a crossroads in my life and had no idea what to do. Somehow, I turned my hand becoming a Beauty Therapist, and as such worked in a small salon to gain some experience.
This salon was worlds apart from anything I had ever known before, and thank god have never known since. Owned by a lady rich on daddies money, her staff consisted of myself and another girl from another college – both working for pennies in return for gaining ‘invaluable experience’.
This girl, we’ll call her Jemma, was the complete opposite to my nervous naivety. I spent my evenings reading quietly at home while she was out getting in trouble with the police for various misdemeanours. To say we didn’t get on would be an understatement. We came from very different parts of life and had no intention of getting to know how each other ticked.
Now this salons owner had a lot of bad habits in her own right that included, but were not limited to, turning up 2 hours late for work and therefore having at least 4 furious waiting clients, snorting cocaine in the salons bathroom, and bringing back various boyfriends for some ‘quality time’ in one of the rooms. I hated every moment I spent there, but couldn’t leave until I had worked my mandated hours in order to pass my course.
One day I turned up for work and the phone rang. I knew it would be our boss before I’d even picked it up as she was due to be there half an hour before hand. “Oh, Hello.” She simpered down the phone, a mans chuckle behind her, “Would you be a darling and open up the shop for the next couple of weeks? I’m just on my way to Portugal!”
Before I even had a chance to ask what on earth was happening the phone had been put down. A friend of hers, who had a lot of sympathy for Jemma and I, stopped by and explained the situation. We were to keep the salon running between us, never mind the fact we were both in college.
The good thing about all this is that, as we were not yet qualified, we could not carry out most treatments. As such, not many appointments were booked and we spent a lot of time sitting around reading magazines. One day, Jemma broke the silence between us. “How about I give you a facial?” she asked, smiling. I readily agreed.
I laid back on the couch as she got to work. As she cleansed, exfoliated and scrubbed, she talked. She talked about her childhood, she talked about her life, and about the death of her younger sister at an early age. I learned so much about her, about where she came from and what caused her anger. Not only that, but she asked me questions, encouraged me to open up and tell her about my hopes and dreams. Within a couple of hours, my skin was as refreshed and open as our relationship had become.
”I know we’re never going to be the kind of people who’d hang out normally, but we’ve got to put up with a lot of crap here. We’re never going to keep going if we can’t rely on each other.” She finished. I smiled and held out my hand to her, “In this building, we are friends”. She smiled warmly back, slipped her hand in mine and we shook.
Two weeks later on a very rainy afternoon, our boss reappeared just as I was giving Jemma a manicure. She bustled in, and after settling herself down for a while commentated, “You two seem to be getting on well…” She studied us for some time before smiling, “Looks like I should go away more often”.
Jemma and I didn’t stay there much longer after that…
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