I went in for a trim. Just take a couple inches off, a little layering at the ends is fine, I said. My hair - midway down my back when I walked in - is now jaw-length at the shortest part. I look like a bank teller or a soccer mom.
It's not a huge deal - hair grows, after all, but the lady who cut my hair really really really didn't want to listen to what I wanted. I don't like using product, I said. Minutes later, goop was being lathered onto my head. I like to let my hair air dry, I cautioned. Out came the blow-drier. ARGH!!!
She had me in a funny position so I couldn't see what she was doing until there were 5 inch long hanks of hair on the floor. I fled before she could cut any more off.
Pros: close to my house, probably meant well, seemed knowledgeable
Cons: butchered hair, disgregarded requests