Mission 2: The Chatty Hairdresser

We've all been there. You go to a salon and they set you up with Jabber Jaws. This mission was a little tricky, but I think I got my point across. It came to me from a gal in Brighton.

Dear R.E. Prisal,

Every time I go to get my hair done, my stylist flaps her gums like a nut. Am I a terrible person for wanting to relax during my time in the chair? I have nothing in common with this woman and truth be told, I think she often forgets where social boundaries begin and end. I know about her child's bedwetting and about her mother's recent hep C diagnosis.

She does a great job with my hair, so leaving is my last resort. Can you help, R.E. Prisal?

-Need Some Silence

Well, NSS, I think I've got a great idea for ole Chitter Chatter. I've come up with a Courtesy Card for your salon. Here's the design:



I will drop off a stack of them at the front desk. That ought to put a cork in her yapper!