My Stylist Quits Too
I get my hair cut at a salon that's conveniently located in the same Westwood high rise I work in.
Today, as I sit in the chair, my stylist covertly hands me a business card with her cell phone number on it.
"I'm leaving," she whispers.
"Why?"
"I don't like having a boss. I want to work for myself."
I pocket the card, look at her, and say, "This is why you're my barber."
2 comments:
Dude, you called her a barber. She might have cut of your ear for that.
And aren't you supposed to be working instead of blogging at 2.30?
I see it's 10:33 am and someone is browsing the web instead of working.
I'm really disappointed in you.
:(
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