Chioma Nnani: Mirror Mirror on the Wall – Who stole my Customer?
Many of us have heard or read the story of Snow White – yeah, the one in which the (possibly psychotic) queen gets really mad because she's no longer the prettiest in the land, then goes after the newest (albeit uncrowned) beauty queen … and we know the rest of the story.
Some business-owners in Nigeria are a bit like that.
So the other day, I went to a hair salon. They had told me the previous day that they would open at 0900hours; I went there at 0915hours and they weren't open. The place was boarded up! They finally opened around 0945hours. By 'they', I mean the owner and her three assistants – although the assistants got there about half an hour after their boss.
One of them proceeded to make a real show of sweeping – so, there was dust flying everywhere (I'm asthmatic, so it was a real joy).
The second one went to fetch some water, and I kept hoping she wouldn't douse/bathe/drown me with it, as she made at least three trips with the full basin, semi-precariously balanced on her head.
The third one just stood there … I think she was watching her boss work on my hair.
Now, going to Nigerian hair salons takes courage. Not just because they try to make you feel ugly by forcing (sorry, recommending) products you know you don't need. There's also the fact that a lot of women who go to Nigerian hair salons (even in the United Kingdom) belong to the (what I call) “All Nigerian Men Are Useless Support Group”. And they're more aggressive in their recruiting tactics than any evangelical group. They whinge, moan, grumble, abuse and complain about the men in their lives, who just happen to be Nigerian – such that a) you wonder why they are still with these men; b) if you were with a good man, you'd be convinced he's an alien; and c) if you're single, you'd look for the nearest convent on your way out of the salon. Even a qualified psychologist would suffer a nervous breakdown just listening to them. So I go as early as I can, just to avoid them – they usually start congregating by late afternoon.
That's one level of courage.
Another is having to deal with salon-owners who don't even know the price of their own products or services, and so constantly change the script on you. Or the ones who show an indication towards violence as they tug at your hair. So, you find yourself going, “Lady, did we fight in your dream? Or you're convinced I stole your husband? Why are you attacking my hair?”
I couldn't get out of that salon quickly enough. I didn't bother to get the name of the hairdresser; what's the point? I will not be using her services, ever again. The physical result was OK, but I wasn't particularly wowed by everything that went on before.
The thing is, there are three other hair salons on the same street.
As is 'customary', people accuse others of 'stealing my customer'. In Nigeria, voodoo is always the alleged tool of stealing customers. It's hilarious.
It's never anything to do with your attitude, or the fact that your services are below par … or just horrendous. That's why a Nigerian restaurant-owner doesn't think it's ridiculous to have a dirty gutter right beside their front door, yet have the temerity to get annoyed that prospective customers walk over to the competition, on a cleaner side of the road.
It's always the fault of the 'prettier girl that the mirror has identified'.
Chioma Nnani is the award-winning author of FOREVER THERE FOR YOU. She holds a Law (LLB) from the University of Kent, Canterbury, was nominated for a BEFFTA in 2014, and has a Postgraduate Certificate in Food Law from the De Montfort University, Leicester. You can connect with her via facebook.com/ChiomaEstherNnani and @ChiomaNnani
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