Remember this story the next time someone - who knows nothing and cares
less - tries to rain on your parade.
A woman was at her hairdresser's getting her hair styled for a trip with her husband to Rome. She mentioned the trip to the hairdresser who said,
"Rome ? Why would anyone want to go there? It's crowded and dirty. You're crazy to go to Rome. So, how are you getting there?"
"We're taking Continental," she replied, "we got a great rate!"
"Continental?" exclaimed the hairdresser," that's a terrible airline. Their planes are old, their flight attendants are ugly, and they're always late. So, where are you staying in Rome?"
"We'll be at this exclusive little place on Rome's Tiber River called Teste."
"Don't go any further...I know that place. Everybody thinks its gonna be something special and exclusive, but it's really a dump."
"We're going to go to see the Vatican and maybe get to see the Pope."
"That's rich," laughed the hairdresser, "you and a million other people trying to see him. He'll look the size of an ant. Boy, good luck on this lousy trip of yours, you're going to need it."
A month later, the woman again came in for another hairdo, and the hairdresser asked her about her Roman trip.
"It was wonderful," explained the woman, "not only were we on time in one of Continental's brand new planes, but it was overbooked, and they bumped us up to first class. The food and wine were wonderful, and I had a handsome 28-year-old steward who waited on me hand and foot.
And the hotel was great! They had just finished a $5 million remodeling job, and now it's a jewel...the finest hotel in the city. They, too, were overbooked, so they apologized and gave us their owner's suite at no extra charge!"
"Well," muttered the hairdresser, "that's all well and good, but I know you didn't get to see the Pope."
"Actually, we were quite lucky, because as we toured the Vatican, a Swiss Guard tapped me on the shoulder, and explained that the Pope likes to meet some of the visitors, and if I'd be so kind as to step into his private room where he would personally greet me.
Sure enough, five minutes later, the Pope walked through the door and shook my hand! I knelt down and he spoke but a few words to me."
"Oh, really...what did he say ?"
He said: "Who screwed up your hair?"