Have you ever wondered what it’s like behind the scenes at your fancy salon? I’m here to tell you it’s not pretty. I’ve been a hairdresser for over ten years at some of the most high-end salons in the world…and what I’ve seen is often shocking. From sexual harassment to physical assault to rampant employee abuse and exploitation. It’s all happening behind the scenes while you’re blissfully relaxing in the chair with your latte. All stories are true. Names and timelines have been changed and shifted slightly to protect the very guilty.

“So he just starts ramming into me from behind, right? I mean, really going at it!”

Good morning, everyone! I haven’t had a cup of coffee yet, but my eyes are wide open as I stumble into the staff room thanks to another episode of ‘ASS-terpiece Theatre’ starring Richie.

“And I’m like, hold on, Boyfriend; guess who forgot to adequately prepare last night?!”

“Lube is crucial.” I chime in.

“Everyone knows that, Dummy,” he says, “It wasn’t that- I forgot my pre-sex enema. Gotta clean out the garage before you bring a new car home!”

“Hold up!” I have an honest question here, “Are people supposed to use an enema before anal sex? I’ve never heard of this. This is, like, a thing?”

Marcelo answers “Not everyone, Girl- but Richie here likes a champagne enema before he goes at it. He’s all fancy and shit.”

“You know I am, Boo.”

They both laugh. Okay then.

BUZZ. My client is here.

Ah, it’s Cheryl. My little Prep School Princess. I love Cheryl, but she’s not the sharpest knife in the drawer, if you get my drift. All that family money, this girl will never have to work a day in her life if she doesn’t want to. Which is fine! Unlike some of my coworkers, I don’t resent my clients for having more money than I do… I just wish some of them would use it a little better (sometimes). Or at least PRETEND to study up at Exeter.

For example, the first time I worked with Cheryl, she asked me if it was true that cutting your hair made it grow faster, and I said “no- that’s just an urban myth” to which she replied- “what’s an urban myth? Does that have something to do with black people?” which just proves that MONEY DOESN’T MAKE YOU SMART.

Anyway.

Cheryl’s great. Her boyfriend Chipper (really. That’s his name.) is taking her to meet his family when they Summer up at Martha’s Vineyard this year. Some of my clients disappear to Nantucket or Maine or Martha’s Vineyard from June to August every year. They call that ‘Summering.’ I like to joke that “this year I’ll be summering at the Public Pool down by the Recycling Center” but none of my clients ever find that funny for some reason!

I have a few more clients and then race down to the Staff Dungeon for lunch. Something’s off, though. Sara isn’t at work. She’s our key support person and her job is the hardest by far; washing dirty things, folding towels, getting coffee for clients, scrubbing floors, everything. And she has never, ever missed a day of work.

“Where’s Sara?” I ask.

“You didn’t hear?” asks Mari. Mari and Sara are close, along with Doni and Selena. They’re all support staff and all originally from El Salvador. They call themselves the ‘Spanish Brigade.’

“She lost the baby.”

“Oh my God!” I cry, my hand flies to my mouth. “When?!”

“Early this morning. She was here early and then she started bleeding. Her boyfriend came to pick her up.”

How horrific. Sara was pregnant with her second child, her son is almost two years old.

“Holy Shit.” There’s not much to say.

“Does she need anything?” I ask.

“You can ask her tomorrow. She’ll be back.”

“How can she come back to work tomorrow? Doesn’t she have to rest?” I know what’s coming and I’m trying to delay what Mari’s about to say because it’s just too horrible.

“You know what Boss said. She gotta be back tomorrow or she outta her job.” Mari looks down, disgusted.

Our Boss doesn’t “believe” in sick days. In the four years I’ve been here I’ve seen co-workers come into work with mononucleosis, walking pneumonia and broken bones. None of these conditions were dire enough to qualify for a sick day, and we’re constantly threatened with termination if we take “unqualified Leave.”

Which is illegal- yes! Right now you’re probably saying to yourself- ‘why don’t these people file a complaint? Or sue? What’s the deal?!” and I’m here to tell you that in this industry, there usually ISN’T ANYONE to COMPLAIN TO. The State Board is notoriously easy to pay off and we have no HR department. And Sara makes minimum wage, her English is shaky and she’s single-handedly supporting her family- she’s not suing anyone. Each salon is its own little kingdom, and Boss is King. Don’t like it- quit.

“Shit.” I say. We’re quiet. “How’s she going to pay the hospital bills?” I ask. It’s not like we get health insurance.

“You know what you can do?” Mari says.

She looks pointedly at the Avon catalogues stacked on the counter by the sink. Sara sells Avon to make spare cash and she’s always got recent catalogues and order forms laying around.

I do a mental tally of the amount of money I currently have in my bank account and then place an Avon order for $300.