The Dreaded Handshake

Who knew when entering this business I would run into so many conflicts! Of will, desire, hygiene. The latter clearly stands at the forefront in the wake of this Swine Flu epidemic.


Now I’m a people person. I love to meet new people! I enjoy conversations with strangers. I’ve even been known to lunch alone just for the opportunity to meet someone new. As a girl I thought life in a salon would be an excellent way to achieve such things. In true Stephanie fashion I went gung-ho into cosmetology school. Ambition blazing. Ready to take on the world of hair and make-up.

Classes were everything I’d hoped they would be. I was knee deep in taking notes and studying. And loving every minute of it. Soon I was ready for step 2- Practice. I excitedly pulled out my fake head with all that hair, clamped her down in front of the mirror and went to town. I cut and colored, braided and styled. And I enjoyed it. It was entertaining work.


Then came step 3- Real People. Real brave people might I add. Never have I been compelled to allow a student in training come anywhere near my head with scissors and a bottle of color. Something sure to never change either! But I digress.

Real people, with real hair, real personalities, real bad breath. I’ll never forget the first person to sit in my chair. The anticipation and excitement. The fear. He was nice enough I suppose. Once you got past the sheer size and smell of him. Or the fact that I didn’t know where the hair on his neck stopped and back started. But that didn’t matter. Nope. Because his next request was that I proceed to shave that back. Dear Lord, are you kidding me? But it didn’t stop there. No, it did not. This guy had eye brows the size of a small dog and, you guessed it, I was about to reign those suckers in too. With a shutter I leaned in and took care of business. After all, it was almost over. Or so I thought. You see, men with hairy backs and bushy eye brows often have super hairy ears too.

So, my first was one for the record books. It had to get better from here. Right? What did I know! The woman who would be my next client not only proceeded to moan and tell me how wonderful my touch was as I washed her hair, she asked me for my phone number! Oh, but only after “accidently” rubbing her face against my chest.

So I did what anyone would, hid in the clinic room with my dummy for days while trying desperately to block out the previous day’s events. Ah, but such things can only last so long. I had a couple of really good weeks, put out some really great cuts and colors. It wasn’t ability that I lacked. It was will…. And courage. And it was the next that finally broke the camel’s back- or mine.

She was a nice girl of about 14. She came in with her mother and 2 siblings. All in need of cuts. I didn’t yet know they purposely came in at the end of the night, when it was slow. Nope. Not until I got the cape around her neck and with the first swipe of my comb found her head riddled, infested with lice! Oh, yes, they knew. And wanted someone else to take care of it.

Well, that was that. I realized that despite how much I like people, I don’t always like touching them. I packed my stuff, threw it in a closet and never looked back. Except for the occasional friend or family member who begs for a moment of my time. I never would have made it through the drama and gossip of salon life, but as I've said so many times "What did I know?". Some things change so drastically and some things never do.

This brings us to my current dilemma- The Handshake. Who started this tradition of hand to hand greeting? Had they ever seen what some people do with those hands?! I gladly greet my friends, new and old, with a hug. I have excellent taste in friends! But to slap some strangers hand in my own, I must admit, is not always a pleasant experience. Have you ever been in a public restroom?

Well, it turns out, everyone you meet in real estate wants to shake your hand. Or at least feels it the “polite” thing to do. And they don’t stop with the greeting. No. It must be done on departure as well. It took a little time, a few side steps for some particularly scary individuals, but I got used to it.

Then came H1N1- The Swine Flu.

At first I found it amusing. Made jokes of the masks and pandemonium. I mean come on, The SWINE Flu? Well, buddy, how things are changing. Who can go a day without hearing H1N1 this and Swine Flu that? Now, every time I see that out stretched hand I have instant visions of hacking and coughing, masks, hospitals (And admittedly the occasional vision of growing a little swirly tail and snorting when I laugh- but that’s mostly payback for the jokes made)

And so my dilemma continues. With each showing, each out stretched hand. My solution? LOTS of hand sanitizer, soap and water and occasionally the inventive avoidance. So if I fail to shake your hand, please don’t take it personally. It’s just my fear of the little swirly tail.