Friday, August 19, 2005

Horribly, horribly wrong

I can’t seem to recommend anything to my labmate and fellow graduate student, Mel. Two of my most memorable recommendations that completely flopped were a restaurant and my hair stylist.
Tommy’s is one of the more well known restaurants here in the Land of Cleves and has won many awards for its menu. It’s also been rated as one of the best vegetarian restaurants in Cleveland (though I swear they make one of the best burgers I’ve ever had). I’ve taken many of my out-of-town guests there and never had a complaint.
When Mel goes there, it’s a disaster. They don’t cook the food right. They don’t mix the malt right. The service is poor. Needless to say, she won’t be going back. I was so disappointed. A place that I loved and sang the praises of had failed miserably to meet the expectations I had instilled in her.
So, as you can expect, I was happy to have the opportunity to redeem myself. I had recently switched salons. OK, that’s a total load of crap. I had decided to stop going to Best Cuts, suck it up like a big girl, and start going to a real salon. I specifically requested a certain hair stylist that was slowly building a clientele among my friends via their complimentary word of mouth. I had a fantastic appointment. Not only did she do a great job coloring my hair with highlights, but also giving me a new short haircut.
Back in the lab, Mel was quite impressed with both the cut and the color. She’d been considering getting highlights of her own and wanted to go to someone that she had already seen could do a good job. Without hesitation I handed Mel my recommendation card (if she goes, I get free stuff). Mel made her appointment and I anxiously awaited her new do (and my free stuff).
The day after her appointment, Mel looked less than pleased. My trusted, understanding, wonderful stylist had done a terrible job. Like most of us, Mel’s hair is darker at the root than at the tip. My stylist had chosen the highlight colors based solely on the color of Mel’s tips. Consequently, the highlights were painfully obvious at the root. Mel looked like a tiger – but only for the first 2-3 inches from her scalp. I felt awful. She’s been a trooper through the whole ordeal, but I still feel bad. And, as you can expect, Mel won’t be going back.
Now I always think twice before making recommendations to Mel. Who knows what kind of damage I could do? Poor girl. I’m lucky she’s still speaking to me.


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