The day of hazardry

Okay first off I know that is most likely no a word but I liked it and felt it fit perfectly for what I am about to divulge.
-It all started on the Thursday of this last week. The day was slow and non-eventful. I spent it cleaning and doing all my other non-glorified jobs around the salon. A woman of oriental descent (this is improtant for it tells of the difficulty in cutting of such hair types) walked in a said she wished to receive a hair cut. All right, seeing as I am the only one not booked with clients I am liable to gain all walk-ins. This, by my thinking is no problem, and in a sense good. For hopefully if I do well they will come back and therefore I shall gain clients.
-It started out all right, though she asked that I not wash her hair and just cut it dry. This is hard for me to want to do and as I found out later not such a good idea. In the end I believed I should be capable of doing what was asked of me. She first asked to loose about four inches in total length. Now when I approach that much hair lose I go about it cautiously and slowly, asking many times if this is truly how much to take off. NO fears I did not take it to short. I then proceeded to put in some layering which is quit straight forward though, when the hair is dry and smooth as hers was, it can fall out of the hands easily and be hard to manage. (I found this out when it was to late). I managed quit well or so I believed. There was a moment of tension that seemed to grow as she felt one side longer than the other and I felt not. It was then that she decided she had had enough and was ready to go. She left and I felt confidant that I had done well enough.
-The next day proved otherwise. In walks my friend of the day before and her husband. I, crawling up from behind the counter I had been cleaning, am met by a cold finger pointed in my face and the icy words, "That is the one who cut my hair". Now I, never having been accused of a wrong doing in my hair cutting, am thinking that they are back to get his hair cut by me. This is but a flash in my mind. The cold hard truth crashes through my confidence when he goes on to say that she is not happy with the cut and feels it is choppy and messy. She wants it fixed but not by me. She would rather have Teresa (whom she had but met the day before) do it. I book the appointment for later that day and then head back to the freedom of our own work space in the back. The place where all hard feelings are fought out and gone through before heading out where none shall see but our smiling faces. I admit I cried bitterly. Now I know this is sad but I take these things personally and fear the worst. I fear what Teresa will say when she sees the awful mess I made and the scolding I shall afterwards receive. Now these fears are so overly egsadurated in my mind it is but a jock that one day I shall laugh about but not at the time. I also in my year and a bit of hairdressing have never had a complaint, this stings like a knife in the gut. Now this could be because most are afraid to come back and stab me as such or because I am that good. After this experience I shall think the first to be the truth.
-She did return and the whole time that my boss went through her hair she complained of the crookedness, and hacked at look of the over all work. I watched the whole of the affair in hopes of learning something from this. I did. Never let someone walk all over me and tell me how to do my job. I shall cut hair wet for I cannot do it otherwise. Dry hair always gets away and this is where most of my trouble came. Not only that but the side that she had claimed, while in my chair, was the shorter, was found by Teresa to have been the longer (for I had trimmed a little off the opposite side). I had not stuck with what I believed to be true.
-in the end I learnt some new things. Teresa also said to me in the back that it was not close as bad as she had led us to believe in fact it was not bad at all.