Well, the hairdryer at the gym burned it. So badly that a GIANT clump fell out on the vanity.
I was just brushing my hair while blowing hot air at it, then all of a sudden the section I was drying turned orange and the smell of burning hair filled the place and my heart stopped.
I stood there staring in horror. Silently, four inches of my underbangs floated, still sizzling, down to white countertop, all orange and crispy.
Since no one spoke English at 9:30 on a Wednesday morning, I was unable to yell at anyone in any kind of satisfying way. I had to leave a note on a preprinted comments sheet. One of the questions was "what is your current opinion of the JCC?" I circled POOR so hard it went through all three layers of the form.
Later that day I dropped back by to see the assistant manager who had finally arrived. And speaks English.
Somehow, that doesn't feel like enough.
There is NOTHING you can do about burned hair. What's gone is gone, and it will grow back. That said, I would have appreciated a little, "Can we help you make a hair appointment?" Or an offer to pay for that hair appointment. Or even a general "Let us try to make this up to you." But nothing.
We'll see what Megan the Amazing Stylist can do to fix it. And then I will present the bill to the administrative team at the JCC Gym. I'm pretty confident I can help them find a way to say "Yes!" to paying for it. Even without resorting to bringing in my lawyer relatives. Although I'm not ruling that out either. I took pictures. I have witnesses.
I will have satisfaction.