=8 2 8=
Being the new kid blows. I'm completely at the mercy of walk-in traffic. Fortunately, we get our share.
Customer one was older than dirt and meaner than a rattlesnake. I could see right through her thin unruly wisps of grey hair straight to her liver-spotted scalp. Barf.
"Make me look like her," she commanded, waving Mila Kunis in my face.
"No problem."
"WHAT?"
"SURE THING!" I promised, shouting into her ear, studiously ignoring the protruding hairs.
"You did a crap job," she said afterward handing me a five. "I don't look anything like her. Split that with the shampoo girl."
