Went to Supercuts on Saturday: to the usual one over on 18th and Wilshire. All I needed was a trim.
My haircutter immediately starts telling me how she is the most experienced one in the place, how she has been there for seven years, how all of her regular clients book her by name and that’s why she is in the first chair. Hummm, so how exactly does that align with me coming in with no appointment, as a walk in, during primetime on a Saturday afternoon? I smile, nod and try to let her know how lucky I think I am to be in her chair and that all I need is a trim.
“How you want?” she asks. “High and tight on the sides, use a number 2, then short across the top” I put my fingers on top of my head to visibly show her just in case we were not communicating. She thrusts her hand at my forehead. “You want two fingers, yes, OK?” I kind of flinch and try to pull back but there’s nowhere to go, “Ah, yeah, sure two fingers work, not too short though.” She was freaking me out. In a flash I hear a clicking sound and the buzzer starts.
I tend to close my eyes when people cut my hair. I find it strangely relaxing to sit and quietly take a little time out from a hectic day. It’s nice to just be for a minute or two, to let someone else improvise and fill the void. Plus, there’s the element of surprise when you do finally open your eyes. The buzzing stops.
“Oh my,” is about all I can muster, “is that one finger or two?” She smiles and rubs the back of my neck with a hot towel, “Summertime now, sum, sum, summertime!” I try not to wince, “Oh, my.” She laughs, “Yes, you love it, nice and short” she proclaims as she leads me to the rack of products to show me “exactly” what I want. It’s out in front of the register where everyone is waiting. The place is packed. “No, no, no, yes! This one! For thinning hair.” I can feel the eyes of the people behind me checking out my crew cut. Then she says, in a whisper just loud enough so that everyone can hear, “You know, I say even better than Rogaine.” I feel the sudden need for a hat, “Oh, my…”
Twenty minutes later I walk in the door trying not to be noticed. Adele glances up from her homework, “Hey Dad, wait, oh my, what happened to your hair?”
-> Onward.
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