I'm revoking the scissors license of MasterCuts Store #42004

It's only a few days until my 27th birthday, and my horrendous new haircut has left me looking like I'm four years old. Sob.

My regular salon was booked up on Saturday, and I was desperate for a trim before the family Mother's Day outing on Sunday. So I ended up at MasterCuts, a national chain owned by Regis Corp. Let me reiterate that all I needed was a trim. I asked for an inch off around the bottom so I could flip it when blowdrying. I also asked her to trim my bangs to the length around the bridge of my nose, and I showed her a picture in a book so she could gauge the length.

It should be noted that I'm legally blind without my glasses, so haircuts are exercises in trust. I trust you can follow my directions and not make me look like an idiot. When I put my glasses back on, my bangs had been cut within an inch of their life. They don't reach the bridge of my nose. They don't even reach the middle of my forehead.

She asked me if I wanted her to trim my layers, but when I saw how clownish I looked, I quickly told her no. I paid. I left. I sat on a bench outside nearly in tears. What was the point in me talking to her and showing her a picture? Apparently, her M.O. was to cut it her way -- and to hell with what I wanted.

It was about that time I realized the hair on the left side of my head was a good two inches longer than the hair on the right side of my head. (Remember: I only asked for a one-inch trim, period.) I walked back into the salon, where my hairdresser was chatting and watching TV with a coworker.

"Um, hi, it's me again," I said, tugging on either side of my head and showing her the length difference. "Could you, uh, even this up for me?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed. "Where did that come from?"

"Those are some 'hide-and-seek hairs,'" her coworker said. "I swear, once a day, cutting ladies' hair, that happens to me."

You're kidding, right? Great. Skill at work.

"Hold it there for a sec," she told me. She walked over, scissors in hand, and started cutting my hair without putting the smock over me, leaving my shirt and everything else was covered in hair.

At one point, she asked me, "How's that?" I tugged at a strand from either side to compare lengths. "Nope," I replied. "This side is still about an inch longer than that side." She resumed cutting, looking a little perturbed. This went on for some time. It was nerve-wracking.

And now I'm posting a disjointed, angry rant because I look stupid. Everybody's told me I look cute. A four-year-old is cute. I'm glad I wasn't going for sophisticated and cosmopolitan. Sigh.

I called MasterCuts' corporate number, but they were closed for the night. I'll try again tomorrow. I'm familiar with Regis' corporate brand and have used their namesake salon for a long time with good success. I'm sure they'd want to know this happened at one of their corporate-owned sites.

Last year, I posted about a moldy bottle of tangerine juice that I bought from Wal-Mart. The marketing manager from the juice company found my post, wrote me a nice e-mail, and snail-mailed me a dozen coupons for free tangerine juice. I used the coupons at places other than Wal-Mart, and lo and behold, no mold! (That rhymes!)

I'm secretly kind of hoping somebody from Regis reads this, not because I want free MasterCuts haircuts -- lordy no, not after this master cut -- but because I want them to know their staff at store #42004 does sloppy, unprofessional work. When customers walk out of the salon, the staff forgets about them. But it's hard for a customer to forget a bad haircut if they have to wear it around for a month while it grows out.

It's unfair.

And no, I'm not posting a picture. :(