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As I mentioned yesterday, after Chase’s tearful admission that she didn’t want to wear a swim cap at summer camp because she’d be teased for it, I decided to get Chase’s hair braided. A quick Internet search yielded several options and after a few phone calls I made an appointment. I ushered Chase into the salon and immediately knew we were in for an experience. As we walked through the door, the smell of rice and beans almost knocked me out. A woman was finishing up her meal using her fingers, something that I’ve experienced when I’ve gone to several Ethiopian restaurants. A first for my welcoming committee to a new salon. I asked for Marcy, the woman who I spoke with to schedule the appointment, and she quickly appeared to welcome me to the salon. She then said something in another language (don’t know which one and there are 9+ Ghanaian languages, I quickly learned that the salon stylists were from Ghana) to a woman sleeping on a pallet in the corner of the salon. Sleepy head rolled over, stretched and looked at Marcy through drowsy eyes. She then rolled over again and got up to go to the restroom. In that moment, I calculated whether or not I’d have enough time to find another salon. Oh my goodness, I’d never seen such unprofessionalism! BUT, I was desperate because it was 3:30PM the night before my daughter was going out of town for a few days. I felt stuck and decided to stay. I had no idea what lay ahead of me and my daughter.
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