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Two months after we arrived in Happy Valley, I had the most awful haircut in my entire life! One evening, whilst we were shopping in Walmart, I saw a hair salon and told my wife that I would pop into the salon to have my hair cut, whilst she continued with her shopping. Upon entering the salon, I was ushered quickly to an empty chair. I was the only customer in the shop. When asked, “how do you want your hair to be cut?”, I replied, “short”. That turns out to be a huge mistake! Before I knew it, my chair was swiveled to the side, and the lady started clipping my hair. That was the second mistake, facing away from the mirror whilst your hair was being cut by a stranger. I really had no idea what she was doing to my hair – all I saw was large quantities of shorn hair cascading down my shoulders, onto the cape and down to the floor. The third mistake was to allow the so called hairdresser to use a “clipper”, which is like a mini “lawn mover” to cut my hair.
Before the seat was warmed up, I was told that it's done! The whole session seems like a fast five minutes to me. Even before I put on my glasses, I had a bad feeling. Bill Bryson, the author of Notes from a Big Country, list some questions you'll dread hearing from your hairdresser, just before she hand you your glasses after a haircut:
- “How fast does your hair grow?”
- “Will you be going out much over the next few weeks, sir?”
- “Do you have a big hat?” .
True enough, when I looked in the mirror, I was confronted with G.I. Joe, whom I hardly could recognize. I was shocked and could only utter to the hairdresser, “it looks awfully short.” Dumbstruck, I paid her and stumbled out dazed! I went to the washroom to wash my face. Staring at the mirror, I said to myself stoically that my hair would grow back and that on the bright-side, I would not need a haircut for a long long time. Having regained my composure, I then went sheepishly to look for my wife. Upon seeing me, she let out a horrified shriek and cried repeatedly, “What have they done...? What have they done to your hair?” We went back to the shop to protest but the lady who cut my hair had already left. Apparently, my haircut was a rush job as the shop was about to close when I stepped in! My wife complained to the manager the next day. She learnt that the girl who cut my hair was a newbie – someone who had just started a few months earlier (I presume the only training she had was on the job). The manager apologized. Although she refunded us the money, the damage to my hair was already done. Over the next few months, I had to wear a cap.
After the trauma, I hesitated visiting the salon here. Anyway, last week I went to another salon to have my hair cut as it was uncomfortably long. This time, I checked around first with some friends where they got their hair cut and if they were satisfied. This time, I replied “give me a trim” and stressed ‘no clippers, please use scissors”. This time, I make sure that I am facing the mirror all the time (not that I can see clearly without my glasses). My hair cut at the “For Men Only” salon turned out to be a pleasant experience. I gave Suzanne, the hairdresser, a tip for a satisfactory job. Whilst it may not be the best I have had, but at least it was a decent haircut.
