Lucyyyyy, I'm Home!

Last year, my neighbor opened what she hoped was an upscale salon about 5 blocks from our homes. It was a very New-York-Soho exposed brick and funky lighting kind of a place with pedicure stations and Marie-CLaire magazines and she was charging the prices to match. Unfortunately, her staff was regular Fantastic-Sam's kind of people and the whole thing put me off. I did get some fabulous highlights there; light brown/coppery lowlights that made my hair look really nice. I hated the price, loved the result. When I got a coupon from her to come back and get "Single Process" color for $25, I made an appointment for both my friend D and myself. About 2 hours into what I had been told (and had experienced before) to be a ONE HOUR process I discovered that my stylist had graduated from Beauty School 3 months ago. And when I finally saw what she had done to my hair, I could well believe it.
This? This is ugly and very very wrong. Did she think I was on my way to a rave?  All around the front of my hair were big orange/purple streaks. Despite my telling her I needed "subtle, for a corporate environment" and "lowlights." It looked like that phony stuff you paint on for Halloween, only not so much with the washing out. Pictures don't do it justice. I complained, but there was no management to listen. To add insult to injury? I was charged $70 bucks ("You had Full Folio highlights - that's 20% off, not $25") I marched over to my my neighbor's house when I got home in a full foam of pissed-off but she wasn't there. I will stalk her until I find her, be very sure... Back home, my sweet husband attempted to help fix the problem because I was in hysterics with no budget for this kind of unravelling Dantean disaster. He found a hair color called "reddish blonde" that should have blended it. Make me look a little like kidlet until it all washed out. Except. Not.
Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease  I now have magenta hair. I have magenta hair and a grumpy VP flying in for a meeting on Friday. Oh. God.