I've written before about how it's impossible for me to get a good haircut. Since the quality of the cut never seems to vary, I usually decide to go with economy. As cheap as I can get away with, short of paying kindergarteners to practice on me with their safety scissors. Which might not be a bad idea, come to think of it...
Anyhoo, I have three regular places I get haircuts, I usually frequent one a few times in a row until I get the feeling that maybe - just maybe - I might be able to get a better cut at one of the places I haven't been in a while. And then I'll go there a few times in a row. You get the pattern.
One of places is a for-real barber shop, a tiny alcove in the basement of the YMCA (really), complete with an ancient linoleum floor, barber chairs that are just as old, and barbers that are only slightly younger than that. I've been going there for years, since I moved out to SoCal.
Out of the five barbers who work this place, one guy, Joe (really), is the worst. I know this because I've been avoiding him for years now. The first time I saw him he walked a little funny, like maybe he'd had a stroke or something, or had some sort of neuro-muscular problem. Either way, not the best candidate for a career as a barber. But I let him cut my hair anyway, mostly because I was next in line and his was the free chair. Guys, you know what I mean, ladies, just go with it for sake of the anecdote.
I got him the next time I needed a haircut, and he wasn't walking so funny. The cut wasn't bad, still a little rough, but manageable. I got him the time after that and he was back to his stiff-legged stagger and I got a particularly bad haircut. I started to suspect something was up. Two or three haircuts after that I happened to be walking into the tiny barber shop as Joe was walking out. It's a good thing I wasn't carrying an open flame or we would have had a fireball in the doorway made from the Scotch on his breath.
Dude was plastered. Blotto. Three sheets to the wind. Blitzed. Polluted. Hammered. Trashed. Loaded. Ripped. Stewed. Full of Irish courage. Which explains the stumbling and the varying quality of his haircuts.
I learned Joe's schedule - Tuesday through Friday, 10 to 3. Not bad, if you're not into making a lot of money. I avoided the barber shop when I knew he'd be there and the years went by, me without a really good haircut, but with no really bad ones either.
Fast forward to yesterday. I needed a haircut and I stopped in at the barber shop about 1 PM. On a Friday. And who was outside talking with one of the denizens of the YMCA? Joe. And who cut my hair yesterday? Joe. He was the one with a free chair.
He wasn't drunk. I got an okay haircut. Not great, but not terrible either.
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Nice post.
ReplyDeleteI say,
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You can do to guarantee that you always receive the best hair cuts, latest professional techniques and stellar service is to choose the right hair salon. Granted, that is easier said than done. With hair salons on practically every street corner, narrowing down your options to find the right salon can be confusing.
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