Why My Job Is Awesome Sometimes

Thanks to a class I take notes in, I have now learned the following things:

Santa Monica College has a gigantic cosmetology department, complete with a freaky glass window of styled dollheads in the entrance. And it's in, of all places, the business building; I also take notes in an accounting class just up the stairs.

With a little bit of practice, I could probably blowdry someone's hair decently, by sectioning it first and putting clips on, making sure to coat the hair with product, and then blowdrying the back of the head first, working my way up to the crown. Or something like that.

The only reason fancy hair products are "cocktailed" (smell nice) is to sell more of them. This seemed to shock about half the class, some of whom actually cut hair in salons as assistants. The teacher also stated that she doesn't let a client leave unless the client spends at least one hundred dollars that day in the salon.

Moroccan oil is a big trade secret. It smells great, is non-greasy, can be used as a pre-treatment or as a styling aid, and only costs about twenty bucks.

Cosmetology students tend to have one or more of the following characteristics: incredibly beautiful, quirky, overly friendly, and/or flaming gay. Oh, and they ALL wear black. Except for one girl. Who was in all white.

The test for a cosmetology license consists partially of seeing if you know the steps for techniques such as curling and the like, but mostly of whether you know safety rules and regulations. Absolutely no time or energy is put into making sure you can actually cut hair or do a manicure decently; all that really matters is that you can keep your space and client clean.

Big hair is back.