Despite the fact that it's been around for decades, caller ID still freaks me out a little

I love my hair salon (see previous note regarding different types of love. This is nothing kinky.) First, it's 3/10 of a mile from my house, so I can walk to get my haircut. It's also right across the street from my coffee shop. I also love the coffee shop. I'm going to go ahead and put it right out there, their black coffee aint the best in town. However, their people are. Nowhere else in this entire burg have I come across a barista (if it's a guy is he a baristo? No one ever seems to know) who will make those lovely designs in the froth of my beverage even if I'm getting a chai latte instead of something involving coffee. Maybe this doesn't seem like a big deal to you but it's difficult to manage in tea.

The hair salon is also next to my eye doctor and across from the place I buy my athletic shoes. I love those places, too. The delightful Renee, who runs the eye doctor's office, has, on more than one occasion, simply dropped off my contact lenses in my mailbox on her way home so they will be waiting for me when I get home from work. The guy who owns the shoe store, Charles, keeps my size and favorite shoe make & model in his database and when I blow out my shoes, I can just call him and he'll be sure to get shoes in stock for me. Then he calls me when they're there. The hair salon is also diagonally across from our mechanic. Brian sometimes brings our car back to us when he's finished changing the oil, particularly when the weather's bad. He just shows up at our door with the keys and we either drop him back off and pay him immediately (bad weather) or he enjoys a short jaunt back to work, going past the coffee shop on his way and we pay him later.

I had on my calendar that I have a hair cut today at 2:30 and thank GOD for that. Usually they call me the day before to remind me. This time they didn't and I began to panic. The hair...it's so bad...so I called. "Good afternoon, Fresche" she answered. Without introduction I said "Hi, I have on my calendar that I have a cut today but I didn't hear from you guys yesterday so I wanted to be sure..." I paused and waited for her to ask me who I am. She didn't. She said "Well, Lisa, you're right. I've got you down for 2:30. We sent an email to your hotmail account yesterday morning, did you not get it?"

I know she's looking at her caller ID which is synced with their client database, but I'm still shocked. I half expected her to go on to say "...good thing you're coming in, `eh? You look terrible." But she held off. Probably more because she's polite, not because she couldn't see me. Big Brother cuts my hair. I don't care. I wish Big Brother would come by before work and blow it dry, though. That would be awesome.