The Whimsical Tale of My Haircut at the Barber School

In the interests of cost and practicality, I decided to get my hair cut at a Barber School yesterday. Despite the concerns of my girlfriend, I didn’t consider it to be an especially risky move. All I wanted was a simple trim and as long as I didn’t come away with a buzz cut I would be happy. I have always reckoned that I would look utterly stupid with any kind of buzz cut, and have thus stubbornly refused to shave my head at any point in my life, even when sporting teams I’ve been on have tried to persuade me to join in their apparent show of shaven solidarity.

As soon as I walked in the door of the Barber School a low buzzing sound filled my ears. I looked around and my eyes were met with the terrifying sight of a line of ten or so people receiving buzz cuts from barbers who either had a buzz cut or hair that clearly hadn’t been cut for years. Every single customer was receiving a buzz cut, including one woman. I wondered whether this place only did buzz cuts, and you got one no matter what you asked for. I enjoyed imagining a dainty old lady coming in and asking for her hair to be washed, permed, and dyed – only to emerge with a buzz cut.

Not to be deterred, I paid my $8 and waited for my barber, or should I say ‘student’ to arrive. Now given that I had experienced student behavior firsthand for the past four years, I would have very much liked to have vetted my barber/student with a few questions before I let him loose on my locks: Are you a freshman? What is your GPA? Did you go out last night and if so how much did you drink? My fears were compounded by the fact that I had already parted with my cash; meaning that the only incentive for my student to give me a decent chop was a good grade, and there are a worrying number of students out there who just don’t give a crap about their grades.

As soon as the haircut commenced, the buzzing noise suddenly got much louder. It soon became evident that the spike in volume was caused by a trimmer going around my ear and towards my neck. “Wait a second!” I shouted. The student calmly informed me that he was only doing this part with the buzzer and would break out the scissors soon. However, his reassurance did little to settle my nerves. You see, this was quite an important haircut. I was going out for a nice dinner with my girlfriend for our anniversary that night, I was going to a wedding at the weekend, and most alarmingly I was getting the cut during my lunch break and I had no desire to return to the office looking like an idiot. This was a high pressure haircut, if ever there was such a thing!

A considerable amount of time passed and the buzzer was still in play. Furthermore, I hadn’t heard or sighted a single pair of scissors in the entire building and I had been turned to face away from the mirror, so I had no idea what was going on. Eventually the scissors came out and the student began snipping cautiously. More time passed. Finally, he decided he had had enough and showed me his work in the mirror. Now it wasn’t terrible. It certainly wasn’t a good haircut, but I hadn’t the foggiest idea how to tell him to improve it. “That’s fine” I said.

The student seemed as unsure as I was and quickly scampered off, returning with the instructor, who was a very funny man.
                “Why do you always have to use an adjective?” He remarked. “Calling me the big guy! How would you like it if I called you the small guy?”

“You’re the big guy” the student responded with a light tap of the instructor’s stomach.
The big guy set about fixing my hair and the three of us had some great banter.
                “What brought you here, besides a plane?” He asked me.
                “This guy dreamt of going to college…” he said looking across to the student “…while he was sleeping during high school!”

By the time the student and instructor had finished taking turns with the scissors, I had been there for almost an hour. I did not mind. It had been a fun experience and I hadn’t left with a buzz cut. Actually, my haircut was so cautious that nobody even noticed it when I returned to the office.