Friday, August 30, 2002

Here's a - not very serious - dilemma. I go to get my legs waxed in a salon in NWsomewhere yesterday afternoon. A very nice girl does them; we chat, talk about clubbing, shopping and dieting (so that's all my conversation gone, then), and we're in a little treatment room at the back. She asks me where I live, and when I tell her, she replies that she lives in Crickewood, round the corner. And that she's all set up at home, and cheaper and nearer and would I like her number? Which I took.

Part of me respects her for her entrepreneurial approach to customer acquisition, and part of me thought she was cheating on her employer.

I take supplier-style relationships seriously: I've had the same optician since I moved to London - brother of a friend - I frequent hairdressers for years, often following them around from salon to salon like a hair-deranged stalker. Basing my loyalty on a small-business-know-your-customers principle, I think these outmoded values count for something. Don't know what. Or maybe I'm just living in the past and it's a dog-eat-dog world and I should brush up my act.

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