Home & People In the U.S.; how to stumble on affluence by inadvertence

Press, 17 January 1979, Page 12

Home & People In the U.S.; how to stumble on affluence by inadvertence

By

ROSALEEN McCARROLL

One thing you have to learn in America is that no matter how high the price, there is always some-one rich enough to pay. I don’t begrudge them. Afrer all, I might be in that position myself one day. But my initiation came sooner than expected.

My two children whose ages added together total six needed haircuts. I rang and made an appointment in the large department store where I’d taken them before. I described the operator I wanted over the phone.

“That must be Carlos,” said the receptionist. That sounded about right so I settled for two consecutive appointments with Carlos. Carlos was not the operator I wanted but he seemed fine. He had the slightly sulky air of a beautiful young man used to admiration but he acted as though he liked the children and they certainly fell for him. He whiskea off the four-year-old, sat her on top of a few books and she bent backwards for her shampoo. He worked very quicklv and in no time at all had transformed her thin blonde tresses into a cover-girl page-boy.

The two-year-old is the sort who never lets anyone brush her hair let alone wash it. But without fuss, Carlos shampooed, cut and dried her hail' into a glamorous page-boy style just like her sister’s. Carlos had just won himself two new clients. I was thrilled. Until I saw the bill. $36. But as my cash resources totalled $2O and I didn’t have credit at the store I came back to earth pretty quickly.

I explained to the young cashier that I had neither cash nor credit to cover the transaction. She was very embarrassed but not nearly as embarrassed as I was.

Especially when a woman who had shared our alcove overheard my dilemma and laughed and laughed. Even after the swing doors closed behind her I co'ild still hear her laughing.

The cashier offered me the telephone to see if I could rustle up a bit of cash. I couldn’t. She then suggested T apply for an in-store credit card but she was not hopeful instant credit would be available. The credit officer was brusque having summed me up as “some dumb foreigner who couldn’t afford a haircut.” She promised nothing. She ushered us into a little room, told the children not to move and start-

ed taking down particulars. When she realised that my financial status was better than she had suspected, she warmed considerably. After a single phone call she came back with a card entitling me to $5OO credit and said if that was not enough there would be

no problem getting more. I thanked her gratefully but she, bighearted by now, said she was only doing her job. I explained I recently had my bag snatched and had come out without enough cash to cover the haircuts, which cost $lB. “For both of them?” she asked. “No $lB each,” I enlightened. She was flabbergasted. “I didn’t know you could pay that much for a haircut.” Nor did I lady. Nor did