Dump 'Em: How to Break Up with Anyone from Your Best Friend to Your Hairdresser

Dump 'Em\ How to Break Up with Anyone from Your Best Friend to Your Hairdresser\ Chapter One\ The Hairdresser\ Signs It's Time to Dump Your Hairdresser\ \ Your smock is covered in dandruff . . . and it's not yours.\ With each snip of her scissors, she grunts like a female tennis player.\ She's still stuck in the '80s. Who wants a perm?\ When you walk in, her last appointment is leaving in tears.\ You go in for a bang trim and leave missing an eyebrow.\ \ Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow\ While attending college in New York City, I got my hair cut at a trendy little boutique in the East Village. My hairdresser, Gina, was a plain Jane from Staten Island, and that was exactly what I liked about her. Unlike a lot of my previous hairstylists—who pretended to listen while they plotted to give me (usually successfully) the haircut they wanted—Gina actually listened to me and gave me the cut I asked for—which is why I was devastated when she told me that she was leaving for six months to go on a spiritual journey to India.\ Within days of returning from her trip, I made an appointment at her apartment. Graduation was coming up and I wanted a new look. I raced up her stairwell two steps at a time, excited for the hairstyle that would take me to the next stage of my life: my career.\ As I reached the top of her staircase, I nearly choked on the heavy cloud of incense smoke that invaded my lungs. The smell of Nag Champa overwhelmed me. Waving it away, I pushed open Gina's front door and entered what I can only describe assome kind of medieval dungeon filled with giant candelabras, enormous crosses, leering gargoyles, and black sheets draped over huge gothic columns. I should have turned around and left then; the smell of incense makes me want to vomit (I already had, just a tiny bit). Not to mention that goth scares me. It was so dark that I could barely see my feet—and if I couldn't see, how would Gina be able to cut my hair?\ "Hello?" I shouted. Out of the darkness came Gina, fully covered in piercings, hair in long dreads, and wearing a black, free-flowing, Stevie Nicks–style dress. Who was this woman? This was not my Gina from Staten Island—Coney Island, perhaps. What exactly did they teach her in that ashram? She made her move toward me.\ "Jodyne! My queen! At last! I've waited my whole life for you!" Then she broke into a Mary J. Blige song. "My life. My life. My life. In the sunshine. If you look at my life, and see what I've seen." India had apparently turned Gina into a hippie goth—a gippie?—but that still didn't explain why she was singing Mary J. Blige to me. "Let's go, mamma!" she said as she grabbed my hand and led me to her sink.\ My whole plan of talking to her first, going over my hair—the style, the number of inches and layers—all of it washed right down that sink of hers. I completely shut down. To make matters worse, I also couldn't see, because I had made the mistake of wearing my glasses instead of my contacts that day. Gina had taken my glasses and set them on top of one of her scary gargoyles. I was having a total out-of-body experience. I watched her cut my hair, was engaged in conversation, yet I don't remember anything I said. What I do remember is her saying things like, "I totally get it. I so know what to do with you. Oh, I just love giving people new looks. You're gonna love it!"—and then another Mary J. Blige song. "Ohhhhh, sweet thing. Don't you know you're my everything. Woe oh, hooooh, sweet thing."\ Fast-forward twenty minutes. My smock came off, and I was staring at myself in the mirror. All I could see was a blurry cloud of incense smoke. I frantically grabbed my glasses, almost knocking the gargoyle off the table (which I suspect was actually a coffin). "Well, what do you think, rock goddess?" asked Gina. Staring back at me in the mirror was a complete stranger. I was speechless. I blinked my eyes five times to make sure it was me. It was me alright; me wearing a mullet. That's right, a mullet—I couldn't get away from that mirror fast enough.\ I ran down Prince Street at lightning speed, pushing people out of my way in order to get home as quickly as possible. It's a bird, it's a plane, it's—a mullet? As I sprinted past a crowd of people planted in front of Dean and Deluca, someone shouted, "Hey, Joan Jett!" And I'm pretty sure I also heard someone say, "Look, it's Andrew Ridgeley!" For those who don't know Andrew Ridgeley, he was one-half of the musical group Wham, along with George Michael. He also sported a mullet.\ For the next week, I refused to go outside. I covered all the mirrors in my apartment and sat shiva. My friends stopped by and offered their condolences. They suggested that I go back to Gina to have her fix my hair before graduation. But how could I? That woman was not my Gina; something had happened to her in India. I called my parents and told them not to come to graduation. That phone call didn't go so well. My father pointed out that when parents fund their children's ridiculously expensive educations, it automatically gives them the right to attend their graduation ceremonies. They were coming, like it or not.\ The day of graduation, Gina left a message on my cell, wishing me luck and hoping to hear how I liked the new me. I never called her back. More calls followed. I erased each message unheard. Apparently, the new me was a coward. My graduation was saved by my fashionable mother, who brought with her an assortment of scarves left over from her '70s Rhoda days. I had never been a scarf girl, but these were really something: all vintage, all fabulous. Luckily, the scarf was a huge hit at graduation. People not only asked where I had bought it, but wanted to take a picture of me. For the next six months, which was as long as it took for me to grow out my hair, I was a fashion icon of downtown New York. And Gina? I never saw her again, but I think of her every time I hear a Mary J. Blige song or see someone with a mullet.\ Dump 'Em\ How to Break Up with Anyone from Your Best Friend to Your Hairdresser. Copyright (c) by Jodyne Speyer . Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

Introduction ixpart 1 Unsupportive Support1 The Hairdresser: Hair Today, Gone Tomorrow 32 The Manicurist/Waxer: Ripping Her Right Out of Your Life 163 The Trainer: Big Pain, No Gain 254 The Therapist: We Need to Talk 40part 2 Sticky People, Sticky Situations5 The Neighbor: When You Don't Love Thy Neighbor 576 The Houseguest: Mi Casa Is Not Su Casa 677 Your Kid's Friend's Parents: Not Meeting the Parents 788 The Landlord: Putting the "Slum" in "Slumlord" 909 The Friend: Best Friends for Never 107part 3 Taking Care of Business10 The Assistant: That Will Be All 11911 The Co-Worker: Mind Your Own Ps and Cubicles 12912 The Boss: Stop Being So Bossy 13813 The Carpooler: The Occupancy of This Vehicle Is High Enough 152part 4 Home Improvements14 Your Family: Family Unfair 16315 The Nanny/Babysitter: The Final Time Out 17616 The Housekeeper: Cleaning House 19017 The Roommate: No Room for You! 203part 5 Doctors, Lawyers, Indian Chiefs18 The Contractor: Putting Out a Contract on Your Contractor 22119 The Accountant: Take Your Money and Run 23320 The Lawyer: Holding Her in Contempt 24321 The Doctor: It's Time for a Second Opinion 25522 The Mechanic: Putting the Brakes on Your Mechanic 266Dumping Your Author 279Acknowledgments 283

\ Peggy Post"This book tells how to ‘dump ‘em’—politely. Jodyne Speyer’s engaging real-life stories emphasize the importance of being respectful when breaking ties. Her steps include ways to be fair and appreciative-no matter what. Readers will learn to handle those awkward farewells with consideration and tact."\ \ \ \ \ Sarah Silverman"Dump ‘Em is not just funny, it’s practical. Jodyne Speyer has figured out a way to sever the ties that so many of us would rather miserably live with forever."\ \ \ Jon Hamm"Jodyne Speyer’s Dump ‘Em is surprising, practical and funny. Or would be had it not reminded me of the wonderful time Jodyne and I had together before, well, the dumping."\ \ \ \ \ Greg Behrendt"This book is so funny and smart and savvy I dumped my wife! And I love my wife. I might have blown it."\ \ \ \ \ Jimmy Kimmel"A funny and practical guide to getting the people in your life out of your life."\ \ \ \ \ Fran Drescher"Dump ‘Em is my guidebook to getting rid of people."\ \ \ \ \ Time Magazine"In this guide to confrontation for doormats everywhere, author and self-proclaimed avoidant Jodyne Speyer provides a step-by-step manual on the etiquette of ending things with just about anyone.... Speyer’s natural comic ease, makes this a breezily informative read."\ \ \ \ \ Marci Shimoff"Dump ‘Em is the non-confrontationalist’s dream. With her easy-to-follow scripts and step-by-step plans, Jodyne Speyer provides a clear roadmap for ending even the most difficult relationships."\ \ \ \ \ Time magazine“In this guide to confrontation for doormats everywhere, author and self-proclaimed avoidant Jodyne Speyer provides a step-by-step manual on the etiquette of ending things with just about anyone.... Speyer’s natural comic ease, makes this a breezily informative read.”\ \ \ \ \ Library JournalInterweaving personal stories, practical tools, and scripts, TV writer Speyer assists readers in divesting themselves of bad relationships, romantic, familial, and otherwise. For each problematic person, Speyer delivers a scenario, a lesson she's learned in that situation, advice for laying the groundwork, and the steps and scripts to use when letting someone go. The book tackles a difficult subject in a humorous, practical, and helpful manner. Highly recommended.\ \ —Deborah Bigelow\ \