Like an expectant mother rubs her swelling belly, I dug my fingers into the depths of my hair and smoothed my fingertips over the growing tiny coily curls.
After a respectable search to no avail, I decided to ask the sales assistant for help.
“Excuse me, please can you help me.” The tall Asian man looked over at me.
“I’m looking for a brand of hair extensions called Auntie Lizzie.” The man started walking over to me with a stern look on his face. He continued walking until he was standing so close, I could feel his breath on my face. His body language was confrontational. I felt intimidated.
He looked down at me with menacing eyes and for a second I thought he was going to throw me a punch. I looked back at him feigning confidence and added, “Do you stock this brand?” He glared at me for a few moments longer and in a split second, he had a personality transplant and broke into a more jovial and professional character.
“What is this Auntie Libby?” he asked.
Slightly taken aback by the bizarre personality transformation, I went on to cautiously explain that Auntie Lizzie was a brand of hair extensions for braiding.
To his credit, he put quite some vigour into the search for “Auntie Libby”. Through a dialogue of broken English, he asked me questions about “Auntie Libby” calling upon other sales assistants and offering me other (dearer) alternatives along the way. After about 10 minutes, he eventually called off the search party and concluded.
“The boss is not here, he knows everything. Me I don’t think so we have Auntie Libby. Our hair grow long you know, so we don’t have this problem and I not really understand what you looking for.” (he said in essence). He smiled politely.
I walked away with my head hanging slightly lower and like a dog eats his own vomit, I continued to wonder the aisles of the offending shop picking up basic supplies. I watched the male sales assistant interacting with other young women in the same aggressive style. Curiously, many of the younger women humoured this strange behaviour, squealing like silly schoolgirls. The flirting is something I had observed on many occasions in other similar stores. I had never understood it. After all, you don’t openly flirt with the sales assistant in Boots or Superdrug. Perhaps it was the prospect of the 5 – 10% discount. I guess everybody wants to look like Beyonce for a bargain.
I did eventually find my Auntie Lizzie hair in different store and also managed to pick up my roadrunner chicken before heading home victorious and humming to that song from back home.