My dad used to say the real money's in the consultation, not the cut, and he was right — spent twenty minutes last Tuesday talking a lady down from a pixie she'd hate by Friday, saved us both the meltdown. Your wrists will quit before your back does, so buy the good shears and the anti-fatigue mats now, not when you're icing your forearms at midnight. And for fuck's sake, remember the client's dog's name — Mrs. Henderson's poodle Biscuit gets her in the chair every six weeks like clockwork.