Cut The Hair, Not The Bureaucracy

, , , , | Right | May 10, 2018

(I am sitting in a barber shop waiting for my turn. This place is part of a chain and everyone is asked their phone number and name to go in their system.)

Hairdresser: “Welcome to [Store]! Have you checked in online?”

Customer: “No. I’m just here for a haircut.”

Hairdresser: “Okay, can I get your phone number?”

Customer: “I’M JUST HERE FOR A HAIRCUT! I DON’T WANT TO FILL IN YOUR STUPID DEMOGRAPHIC! I’M GOING SOMEWHERE ELSE!”

The Salon Doesn’t Make The Cut, Part 2

, , | Working | December 28, 2017

(I go to my regular place to get my hair cut, and maybe my beard trimmed. Do bear in mind that I’m a guy in his 20s with a very straightforward haircut; it’s as vanilla as it gets. It’s also worth noting I’m on pretty good terms with the girl usually working there, but this time I see a rather sour-looking older woman.)

Me: “Hi, are you busy or can you fit me in?”

(She gives me the go-ahead. I quickly explain what I need done and the haircut begins. All seems to be in order until I notice my hair is starting to get a weird mohawk shape.)

Me: *in a casual, cheery tone* “Hey, sorry, could you please take that off the top there so it’s level? Also, just a reminder that I don’t like bangs, so those would need to be removed.”

Hairdresser: “Oh, no, I’m not doing that.”

Me: “What? “

Hairdresser: *rudely* “That’s stupid; I’m not giving a dumb haircut like that.”

(While I’m a very social and friendly guy, I also tend to have a short fuse when provoked. I feel myself getting mad, so I just stand up, take off the apron, and grab my coat.)

Hairdresser: “What are you doing?”

Me: *mad, but trying to maintain a civil tone* “I came in to pay to get my hair cut the way I like it. Whether you like my taste or not doesn’t really matter here; you can’t just refuse to do what I asked. Here’s the money, and bye.”

(She tried to stammer something, but I just went outside before she could finish, cooled off for a bit, then went to a new place I knew of about two minutes away. There were two girls around my age working there, and we all had a laugh when I told them why I’d seemed so pissed upon entering. They also actually did my hair the way I wanted them to. I’ve been their regular since.)

 

Related:

The Salon Doesn’t Make The Cut

Not The Sharpest Tool In The Box Today

| Cape Town, South Africa | Right | October 2, 2015

(I’m the idiot in this one. I go to the local traffic department to renew the vehicle license. This comes in the form of a round paper disc – about four inch diameter – which affixes to the windscreen, but is printed on an A4 sheet. Having time before my next appointment, I go to the barber’s for a haircut. There is a queue, so I am thinking that I can cut out the license disc while I am waiting…)

Me: “Excuse me, do you have any scissors here?”

(Cue hysterical laughter from all patrons and staff.)

Great Scott, Chewie!

| Folkestone, Kent, UK | Working | April 7, 2015

(I’m getting my haircut by Barber #1. Barber #2 is nearby drinking tea as there are no other customers in the shop. Barber #1 and I are talking about the ‘Back to the Future’ trilogy, especially as it is now 2015, the year that Marty and Doc visit in ‘Back to the Future Part II.’)

Me: “Shame, we won’t have our hoverboards this year.”

Barber #1: “I know! But…”

Barber #2: “Is that really hairy guy still in it?”

(Blank looks.)

Barber #2: “You know; the one with hair everywhere?”

Me: “Do you mean Doc? Yeah, he’s been in all of them.”

Barber #2: “No, the really hairy one. You know…” *makes Wookie noise*

Me: “Um, Chewbacca? I think he’s going to be in the new Star Wars film this year.”

Barber #1: “But we weren’t talking about them. We were talking about Back to the Future.”

Barber #2: “Were you? Oh, okay.”

Me: *to Barber #1* “I know Doc Brown’s hair is wild, but to confuse him with Chewbacca…”

He Must Have Brown Hair

| NJ, USA | Related | November 4, 2013

(I am about five years old. My mother takes me to the barber shop. As I am having my hair cut, the barber strikes up a conversation with me.)

Barber: “So, what’s your name, little guy?”

Me: “My name’s [Name], but my dad calls me s***-head!”

(Everyone in the shop breaks out in laughter as my mother turns bright red and runs out of the shop to wait for me in the car.)

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