So I’m at my friend Wendy’s salon in Philadelphia today, getting one of the wonderful haircuts that only she can give me (plus color and eyebrow and upper lip waxing), on a day that she came in special because I was in from New York, even though the salon was closed, when she tells me she’s really worried about a little something she felt on the outside “down there”.
The thing about hair salons? They have plenty of gloves.
So we traipse down to the basement, and armed with my IPhone flashlight, amidst the boxes of product and with Wendy propped up on a stepping stool, I take a look and render my diagnosis – basically, nothing to worry about.
Wendy is exceedingly grateful and I’m happy to have been able to do her a favor in return for her coming in on her day off to cut my hair.
Later, as I hand her a credit card to pay the bill, Wendy says “Aren’t you even going to look at what I charged you?” and I’m thinking “Honey, you can charge me anything you want for this haircut – I absolutely love it!” but I take a look at the bill and holy cow! she’s practically given the whole thing away. I look at her, shocked.
Wendy smiles and says – “I gave you the vagina discount.”
I love my job.
And my friend Wendy.