Sarah drummed a bored rhythm on the laminate countertop, the silence and her beloved beauty salon broken only by the rhythmic hum of the ventilation fan. A stray curl, escaped from her usually neat bun, danced in front of her eyes. Just as she considered braiding it back in, the salon door chimed, announcing a customer.

The woman who sashayed in was a vision of blonde ambition. Her hair, a cascade of gleaming gold, bounced with each perfectly measured step. Her tailored Escada suit whispered of power lunches and corner offices.

Sarah stood to greet the woman, secretly wondering how on earth she could manage to walk in those stilettos. "Welcome to Styles by Sar—" She began, a practiced smile on her face.

The woman threw a perfectly manicured hand up, cutting her off.

"No time for pleasantries, darling. I need Rapunzel hair, pronto. And make it the kind that turns heads."

Sarah blinked, momentarily speechless. Recovering, she plastered on a customer-service smile, tighter than a drumhead. "Of course, ma'am," she said stiffly, her voice laced with forced sweetness.

"Tiffany," the woman declared, flipping a long strand of hair over her shoulder. "And efficiency is my middle name. Preferably, get me in and out of that chair faster than you can blink,’’ she finished smugly.

Sarah stifled a sigh. "We'll do our best to accommodate you, Tiffany," she said, leading her towards the shampoo station. "Let's start with a consultation. What kind of look are you going for today?"

"The million dollar look, obviously," Tiffany replied, rolling her eyes dramatically.

As Sarah began to lather the expensive shampoo into Tiffany's hair, she winced internally. Tiffany kept flinching at the slightest touch. At one point, Sarah even had to switch shampoos mid wash. when Tiffany realized she was using Oribe shampoo, Sarah thought her eyes were going to pop out of her head. “My scalp is far too sensitive for that garbage! “ Tiffany screeched, nearly jumping out of the shampoo chair.

Sarah gritted her teeth and switched to a gentler, pricier shampoo, dodging another round of Tiffany's commentary on the salon's "disappointing" selection. The rinsing process was no easier. The water temperature, according to Tiffany, was "either an arctic blast or a fiery inferno," with no happy medium.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Sarah managed to towel-dry Tiffany's hair without incurring any wrath. "Now, about the cut," Sarah ventured, flipping through a magazine filled with trendy styles.

Tiffany scoffed. "Honey, those styles are so last season. I need something that screams 'I own a yacht, but haven't the faintest idea how to sail it.'"

Sarah forced a laugh. "Cutting-edge, then? How about a long, layered look with subtle highlights?"

Tiffany wrinkled her nose. "Too common. Everyone and their chihuahua has layers these days."

With annoyance and desperation clawing at her, Sarah showed Tiffany a picture of a model with a head-turning, asymmetrical bob.

Tiffany's eyes widened. "Bingo! But make sure it accentuates my cheekbones and doesn't, under any circumstances, make me look like a poodle."

Throughout the haircut, Sarah snipped and styled with the precision of a brain surgeon, all while Tiffany incessantly checked her phone, barking orders at unseen assistants, and complaining about the air conditioning being "a degree too warm." By the time Sarah was done, she was a tangled mess of nerves, but a triumphant smile played on her lips. The cut looked amazing, framing Tiffany's face perfectly.

"Voila!" She announced, a hint of sass in her voice.

Tiffany appraised her reflection in the mirror, her lips pursed. A beat of silence stretched between them. Then, Tiffany did something unexpected. A genuine smile spread across her face. "You know," she said, her voice free of its usual haughtiness, "this actually looks quite good. Maybe you're not such a novice after all."

Sarah blinked, momentarily stunned. Then, a slow smile spread across her own face. Maybe, just maybe, this ordeal had been worth it. ‘’ so you’ll refer me to your friends then?’’ She asked with a hopeful smile.

Tiffany turned to her, her smile faltering. “I didn’t say all of that, honey,’’ she said flatly, before standing up in sashaying out of the salon.