Turkey Vulture

I'd forgotten I had a hair appointment this morning.  Fortunately I had put an alarm on my phone so I made the appointment w/ time to spare.   I don't ask for a particular beautician but always get Andrea.  Today Andrea was returning phone calls and it was someone new that beckoned me to sit down at her chair.  This beautician had burgundy hair on one side, teal colored hair on the other and called me 'dear'. (Note: I hate being referred to as 'dear' but she was holding a scissors near my face.  I let it go.)  She asked how I would like it cut and I gave her my usual bare minimum instructions and to do the rest so it 'matched'.  As she cut and talked I realized she was new in this profession.   I am clueless about cosmetology:  Do they have exams on layering? Are courses graded on a pass/fail basis?  Are there seminars on how to make banal conversation while working?    To top things off the stylist wasn't in a good mood.  She reached behind her and brushed a hand mirror onto the floor.  Had to stop for a moment to sweep up the pieces.  Twice she mentioned that it's so hard to get anything done right when working at this village.  This is a satellite location from the main stylist offices at the County Seat - however anyone in business knows enough not to be derogatory about a place in front of it's residents.  When she finished she asked how I liked what she had done.   I said it looked OK (I was just getting a trim so didn't feel the need to gush.)  She then explained Andrea would want to check her work before I left.  When Andrea was free she brushed her hand through my hair in a few places to see how it fell.  She noticed an errant strand of hair that stuck up and showed my stylist how to trim it so it would prefer to lay down.   I paid and was out of there.  I'd kinda forgotten how much touching there is during a simple haircut.  When I got home I grabbed Whip and we went out nosing through the fields for awhile.