TheTrueSpiritofChristmas 　　Ifyoucan’tchangeyoufate,changeyourattitude. 　　AmyTam 　　Onemorehour,Ithought.JustonemorehourandI’mfree.ItwasChristmasEveandIwasstuckinBeautyCollege.Itwas’tfair.Ihadbetterthingstodobetterthanwaitonfussyoldwomanwithbluehair.Ihadworkedhardandfasttogetfourshampoo-setsandonemanicurefinishedbeforelunch.IfIhadnomoreappointmentscheduled,Icouldleaveattwoo’clock.Justonemore… 　　“Numberseventy-one.Carolyn,numberseventy-one.” 　　Thereceptionist’svoiceovertheintercommademyheartfalltomystomach. 　　“Youhaveaphonecall.” 　　Aphonecall.Iexhaledasighofreliefandheadedupfronttotakethecall. 　　AsIreachedforthephone,Igavetheappointmentpadacursoryglancetoconfirmmyfreedom.Icouldn’tbelieveit.Ihada4:30perm.NooneinherrightmindwouldhaveherhairdoneonChristmasEve.Noonecouldbesoinconsiderate. 　　Iglaredatthereceptionistbehindthecounter.“Howcouldyoudothis?” 　　Shetookastepbackwardandwhispered,“Mrs.Weimanscheduledyou.”Mrs.Weimanwastheseniorinstructor,thebiddyoftheball.Whenshespoke,ononeargued. 　　“Fine,”Ihissedandturnedtothephone.ItwasGrant.HisgrandmotherhadinvitedmetoChristmasEvedinner,andcouldIbereadybythreeo’clock?Ifingeredthediamondsnowflakenecklacehahadgivenmethenightbefore.Swallowingthelumpinmythroat,Iexplainedthesituation.Afteraninterminableslience,hesaidwe’dmakeitanothertimeandhungup.TearsstungmyeyesasIslammedthephonedownandbarricadedmyselfbehindmystation. 　　Theafternoonhungbleakandgray,echoingmyhood.Mostoftheotherstudentshadgonehome.Ihadnootherpatronsuntilthe4:30perm,andIspentthetimeatmystation,stewing. 　　Atabout4:15,Mrs.Weimanstuckherpinchedfacearoundmymirrorandadvisedmeinhersoft,nononsensetone,“Changeyourattitudebeforeshegetshere,”thenquietlysteppedaway. 　　Mymoodwouldchangeallright,fromangrytomurderous.Igrabbedatissueandwhiskedawaythefreshtears. 　　Mynumberwasthecallat4:45.Mytardy,inconsideratepatronhadarrived.Istrodebrusquelyupfronttogreetaveryshriveled,frailoldwomangentlysupportedbyherhusband.Withatendervoice,Mrs.WeimanintroducedmetoMrs.Sussmanandbeganescortinghertomystation.Mrs.Sussmanfollowedus,mumblinghisapologiesforbringingherinsolate. 　　Iwasstillfeelingputupon,butItriednottoshowit.Mrs.WeimancradledMrs.Sussmancloselyassheloweredherintomychair.Whenshebeganraisingthehydraulicchair,Ifeignedasmileandtookover,steppingonthefootpump.Mrs.Sussmanwassosmall,Ihadtoraisethechairtoitsfullheight. 　　Iplacedatowelandplasticdrapearoundhershoulders,thenjumpedback,aghast.Liceandmiteswerecrawlingoverherscalpandshoulders.AsIstoodtheretryingnottoretch,Mrs.Weimanreappeared,pullingonplasticgloves. 　　Mrs.Sussman’sgraytopknotwassomatted;wecouldn’tpullthehairpinsout.Itdisgustedmetothinkanyonecouldbesounkempt.Mrs.Weimanexplainedthatwe’dhavetocutherhairtogetthematout,andMrs.Sussmanjustlookedatuswithtearsstreamingdownhercheeks.Herhusbandheldherhandstenderlyinhisashekneltbesidethechair. 　　“Herhairwasherprideallofherlife,”heexplained.”Sheputi