Woe be to you, barber

I don’t go to salons or hair stylists. I go to cheapo barbers.
At least, that’s where I’d like to go.
As I live in a swankier part of Chicago’s Loop, barbers are in short supply. The next best thing’s the chain hair…store. I don’t know what to call it. Cutter place.
In the past, the process of going to these places has been not painless exactly but about what you expect.
1. Wait.
2. Someone looks up and says, “Did you sign in yet?” Grumble. No, there was no one at the desk and no paper to sign.
3. Eventually, you hop into the chair where the cutter asks, “What can we do for you today?” We can do the same thing we do every time I’m here. They have computers. They have a customer discount program. Why not tie “the usual” to the discount card and cut out all the chatter?
4. Talk talk talk. I don’t care what you’re saying, stranger, but I’ll respond in whatever way I have to to make this haircut end as fast as possible.
5. Shampoo and head massage. Ohhh, where have you been for the last 15 minutes?
6. Talk talk talk. DAMMIT!
7. The awkwardness around the tip. Hmph..that was awkward.

Now I’m older, so the talking part in #4 goes a bit differently than it did a few years ago.

“Have you thought about using [Your Product Here]? It could really solve all of your hair problems like thinning, grayness, and evil gnomes.”

“I haven’t thought about that. Not even for a second. Am I in danger?”

“Yes. Very much so. Here, let me ring you up.”


I miss the good old days of awkward conversation instead of this fear inducing Fox News version of a hair cut. Yes, I’m getting older.
Isn’t the giant mirror in front of me reminder enough?


About Dan C
Likes: Games of the video kind, Spider-man, regional hot dogs Dislikes: Close talkers, people singing loudly in public while listening to headphones, yippy dogs

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