You really do have to hate people. You don’t start out wanting to but they force you into it.
As often happens a kid said to me,
“You don’t have any hair!”
It’s funny how often the parent (there’s always only one) recoils. As if I’m unaware of the situation. I have a standard response which is to feign shock while grabbing my head saying,
“I don’t! I must have left it home. I hate when I do that.” I then ask the unfailingly laughing or smiling kid. “Does that ever happen to you?”
By now the parent is in on the joke. They may or may not join in but they aren’t on alert.
Except for this lady. The kid is starting to laugh while asking if he can touch it when his mother shouts,
“Don’t tell him that!” What? “Now he’s going to spend all day trying to take his hair off.” Are you in the moron farming industry? Because you think you’re raising them. “Hair is not something you put on and take off.” She says to the kid who has not once, in my presence, reached toward his hair.
I begin to recede from the scenario but need to make one last comment.
“Ma’am,” I say instead of bitch. “Must I inform you that you are, at this very moment, wearing hair extensions?”