Asya was never known for any outstanding abilities. From early childhood, she realized that nature had not favored her with good looks. Her grandmother, glancing at her granddaughter, would always sigh and say:
“Ah, who did you take after? Probably your father.”
“Grandma, what was my father like?” Asya asked.
“How should I know, child? Your mother never revealed that secret. But apparently, he was just like you.”
Asya rarely met her mother. She knew that her mother now had a new family. But Asya was used to living with her grandmother and grandfather. She tried to help around the house as much as she could, but her efforts usually caused more trouble. Sometimes she overfed the chickens or caused some other mischief.
She would spend a long time looking at herself in the mirror, unable to understand what exactly her grandmother saw in her. Yes, she couldn’t be called beautiful, but she did not consider herself ugly either. Her nose had no bump, no warts — just a quite ordinary appearance.
By the age of seven, Asya made an important decision: if she wasn’t beautiful herself, she would make others beautiful.
Her first “model” was Kuzma — their pet cat. One night, tossing and turning in bed before sleep, the girl decided that it was too hot for the cat in summer and that she should help him. Getting up early in the morning, she got to work. Kuzma, unsuspecting, patiently sat while Asya gently stroked him and carefully trimmed his fur.
When grandmother saw the cat in the morning, she almost fell, clutching the doorframe. Grandfather just collapsed on the floor and laughed until tears ran down his cheeks. He only calmed down after grandmother brought him a glass of water.
Asya did not understand the adults’ reactions at all and walked with her head held high. Kuzma, however, now preferred not to go beyond the fence.
“Look at what you did to the cat!” scolded grandmother. “Now he’s afraid to show himself to other cats. He’s lost all his respect.”
“Maybe he’s afraid that others will want such a haircut too, and I won’t be able to help them?” Asya replied. “You hid the scissors anyway.”
That same night, grandmother and grandfather decided not to risk it anymore and securely put away the tools with which Asya had “transformed” the cat.
But after a few months, they relaxed — and it was a mistake. That day, grandfather lost his mustache.
“Well, grandpa,” laughed grandmother, “not bad at all! With each time, our granddaughter’s haircuts get better and better!”
That time, it was grandfather’s turn to drink valerian.
Soon, Asya had a serious talk and agreed not to experiment with haircuts anymore. Grandmother allowed her to practice on her own hairstyle — that seemed the lesser evil. But just in case, grandfather decided not to grow his mustache back.
When Asya finished school, no one doubted where she would go to study. Especially since exact sciences were clearly not her strength, and she graduated with average grades.
For her graduation, grandmother and grandfather gave her professional scissors. Her mother just stopped by with a cake. But Asya was not offended — she was used to it.
At college, everyone praised her. Of course, sometimes things didn’t work out, but overall she managed. She really enjoyed mastering her craft. Now she laughed remembering her first “creative experiments” in childhood.
During holidays, she went back to her native village. There she would cut the local elderly people’s hair. All the neighbors came to her for haircuts. Though she was a beginner master, her hand was light, and there was no need to go anywhere far.
“Look, Asenka, how many clients you have! When you return home, you’ll start working right away.”
“Grandma, I won’t return. You know, I want to stay in the city. I don’t just want to cut hair — I want to constantly learn something new, and there are no conditions for that here.”
Grandmother understood everything, but her heart ached. Though Asya grew up sensible, who would need her there, in the city? If trouble happened — who would help? Her mother? She had moved with her family to the seaside. They didn’t even invite Asya to visit.
But no matter how worried grandmother was, Asya stayed in the city. She rented a room from a lonely elderly woman and started looking for work.
As it turned out, specialists without work experience were not wanted anywhere. Every evening she returned home increasingly sad. The apartment owner would give her herbal tea and soothe her.
“Asya, don’t give up. Everything will work out. Start small. Maybe they’ll take you in some small hair salon?”
“Marina Viktorovna, I already tried. In small places, usually the owner cuts hair herself; they don’t need hired workers,” Asya sighed, planning her next day.
The next morning she decided not to rely on ads but to walk through the whole neighborhood and look into every hair salon. After all, if you knock on all doors, someone will open.
She got lucky, if you could call it that. One salon offered her a job — not as a specialist, but as a cleaner.
Asya had less and less money and agreed. Besides, she could watch the masters at work.
However, she only got to watch when the owner wasn’t around. When he appeared, he quickly found tasks for her.
“Why are you spying? You still have to grow to their level. So don’t even stare,” he would throw at her.
How could she grow if they didn’t even give her scissors? You see, their salon wasn’t cheap, and they were afraid she might ruin an important client. Once, one of the masters let her help, and the owner nearly fired both of them.
“Is this a practice place for students here?” he shouted across the hall. “If this happens again — you’re out!”
Since then, it never happened again.
To keep basic skills, Asya cut all of Marina Viktorovna’s neighbors. They treated her with sweets and pies in gratitude. Some paid, but only if they wanted to, and the amounts varied.
Asya carefully saved all her extra earnings. Just in case.
Days flew by, and nothing changed. Months passed unnoticed. She wanted to visit the village, but they didn’t give her time off. Though the owner himself had been on vacation somewhere in the south for two weeks. The masters had also scattered: some on vacation, some on sick leave. Today they left early, asking permission. And Asya cleaned and could have been free.
Her thoughts about the village and rest were interrupted by the sound of the door opening. She wanted to say the salon was closed, but someone beat her to it.
“Daughter, please make me look like a decent person,” said an elderly man standing in the doorway.
By his clothes, it was clear he was not a regular client. And he obviously hadn’t been to the master for a long time. He didn’t look homeless, rather an ordinary worker, Asya thought. And she realized: this was her chance. No one was in the salon. The boss was far away.
Her hands trembled with excitement. But she went for it.
“Come in, have a seat,” Asya said with a smile, trying to calm the trembling. “What kind of haircut would you like?” she began listing all the known men’s hairstyles.
“Daughter, just make me handsome. That’s all. No experiments. No inscriptions or dyed hair buns. Otherwise the cows will laugh at me.”
Asya laughed and immediately calmed down.
While having a pleasant conversation, she tidied Vladimir Ivanovich’s hair. He told her about cows, goats, and horses. Even though Asya grew up in the village, she didn’t know much. He worked on a farm. He shared interesting facts about breeds and funny stories.
They were so engaged in conversation that they didn’t notice another man entering the salon.
“Thank you, daughter. What a handsome man I’ve become. Ready to get married right now. But, alas, I’m married,” laughed Vladimir Ivanovich.
And then another voice rang out.
“When did they start cutting homeless people in our salon?”
Asya turned and saw the boss, his face red with anger.
Vladimir Ivanovich wanted to say something, but the boss interrupted.
“I’d fire you right now! But now you’ll work it all off! He probably doesn’t even have money to pay for the haircut. And these tools now should only be thrown away!” shouted the boss.
Vladimir Ivanovich took out money and handed it to Asya.
“Here, daughter. Thank you for the haircut.”
“Thank you. Please, you better leave,” she said quietly.
And he left the salon.
“I will pay everything,” Asya said quietly. “No need to throw away the tools, I’ll keep them since I’ll have to compensate anyway.”
“Alright,” grunted the boss, taking the money. “But don’t cut ‘homeless’ people with them in my place.”
Asya finished cleaning, closed the salon, and gloomily headed home. She understood that paying off the tools would take months. She wanted to give some money from her stash, but then the boss would definitely fire her. Maybe if she endured, he would forgive the debt over time.
The next day she caught mocking looks. Of course, the boss had told everyone. Only Lera, the one who once let her help, said the boss would calm down and everything would be fine.
Asya tried not to raise her eyes while cleaning to avoid seeing colleagues’ faces.
She was almost done when a client came in. The administrator immediately rushed to him. The man radiated luxury and wealth.
“Hello, how can I help you?”
“Good day. I’d like a haircut. Why else do people come here?”
“Please, have a seat. We have a master just freed up,” she said, pointing to Lera.
“Thanks. But I need another master.”
“To whom exactly?”
“I forgot the name. A sweet brunette with a charming smile.”
The administrator froze. All masters in their salon were blondes. Even those naturally not blondes. It was the boss’s whim. The only brunette was the cleaner.
“But we don’t have a brunette master. Maybe you’re mistaken?” The boss lightly tapped the administrator on the shoulder to signal that such things shouldn’t be told to clients.
“Yesterday my friend got a haircut here and strongly recommended this specialist. She cut him after closing and stayed late for him.”
And then the boss realized who was being talked about.
“She’ll be right out. Just freed up.”
He rushed into the back room where Asya had already hidden, not hearing this conversation.
“Quick, change, a client is waiting!”
“But…”
“No ‘buts’. He came for you.”
Asya cut the man’s hair, and he was pleased.
“Asenka, now only you. Vovan didn’t lie. Everything is top-notch.”
After him came another client from Vovan. And this continued all week. Asya was happy. The boss now smiled ingratiatingly and didn’t remind her about paying off the debt.
A week later, Vladimir Ivanovich came again. Asya didn’t recognize him at first. He wasn’t in work clothes but in an elegant suit.
“Hello, daughter,” he said, and only then did she realize who was before her.
“Hello, Vladimir Ivanovich.”
“I need to talk to you. When do you finish work today?”
“In half an hour I’ll be free.”
“Great. I’ll wait for you at the café across the street, but now I have to step out on business.”
After work, Asya went to the café. Vladimir Ivanovich immediately stood and waved her to the table.
“I ordered some food to my taste. You must be hungry after work.”
“Thank you. And thanks for your friends.”
“Oh, it’s nothing. They really liked my haircut, so I told them. Surprised?”
“A little.”
Vladimir Ivanovich really owned a farm. Long ago he started it all himself, and the farm was very small. Since then, he got used to controlling every process and being at the center of events. He and his wife lived near the farm in their own house. A special person handled paperwork, but sometimes Vladimir Ivanovich had to go to meetings himself. That day was one of those times. He was called right from the farm and urgently needed to tidy up. So he stopped at the first salon on the way to his city apartment where his deputy was waiting with a suit for the meeting.
“And you, daughter, are smart. Not only as a specialist but as a person. I really looked like a homeless man,” Vladimir Ivanovich laughed.
“Well, maybe a little,” Asya replied shyly.
“I have a proposal for you. My daughter wants to open a salon. Good masters with kind hearts are hard to find. My daughter is well brought up, don’t worry, she’s nothing like your boss. Will you go work for her?”
“Of course I will!” Asya was delighted. “Does she need only one master?”
“No, of course not. Do you have someone in mind?”
“Yes. We have another excellent girl. And she knows coloring very well.”
“Then it’s settled. Tomorrow I’m waiting for you here at the same time with my daughter.”
The next day, the gloomy boss watched as two of his masters left his salon. It was hard for him to admit even to himself, but these were truly top-notch specialists.
Asya went on vacation to her grandmother and grandfather and took Lera with her. They needed a good rest before starting work in the new place. They had to move out from Marina Viktorovna because it was too far from the new workplace. But Asya doesn’t forget her. She tries to visit at least once every couple of months and continues cutting her neighbors’ hair. They always greet her with smiles, pies, and heartfelt stories.
Now Asya felt she was in her place. The job in the new salon brought joy, and the support of Vladimir Ivanovich and his daughter made her confidence even stronger. She knew her work was valued, and clients trusted her not only with their hair but with their secrets. Lera also fit in perfectly, and their duo became a real highlight of the salon.
Every time she returned to Marina Viktorovna, Asya felt warmth and gratitude. The neighbors were already waiting for her, preparing tasty treats and sharing new stories. For them, she was not just a master — she became part of their lives, a person who not only makes people beautiful but also delights with her attention.
Asya understood that life was difficult, but sometimes fate gives gifts that make it brighter and richer. And she was endlessly grateful for everything that had happened to her.