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The Barber Lottery

When moving into a new neighborhood, one of the more important things is finding a local barber that you like.  This can be difficult, particularly if you haven’t moved that far away.  You’d just as soon drive ten or fifteen minutes for the comfort and security of your old barber.    He’s not going to ask you how much you want off of the top.  Like you would know anyway, you want it to be the same length it was last time you got it cut, duh.  He knows just what you want and you don’t have to explain a thing. 

Unfortunately, making that trip isn’t always feasible.  So one day you go to the only barber shop you know of on your block.  You’ve tried it out once before and have been weary to go back because the last time you got butchered.  A woman in her forties with a smoker’s voice hurried you through because she hates her job as well as her life.  The clippers hurt your head, she cut it way too short in the front and forgot to square it off in the back.  You didn’t even get the back of the neck powder happy ending. 

            So as you walk up to the door, your fingers are crossed that she’s off that day, or better yet she got fired.  You walk through the entrance with closed eyes closed and open them once you here that little bell.  Damn it!  There she is, in her striped socks and red Chucks, yakking it up with the other barbers; not paying attention to what she’s doing.  She’s one of only three working.   Every instinct tells you to hit the door.  But you’ve got a hot date and can’t make it across town for your barber in time.  What do you do?  

            You have a couple of options.  The first is just to sit down, wait politely, and play the barber lottery.  This can get a little nerve racking.  All you have is ten dollars and a dream.  It’s left completely up to chance, and crossing your fingers didn’t work in the first place.  You watch the barbers like a hawk and try to measure each one’s remaining time against the people ahead of you.  She looks like she’s just getting started and there’s two ahead of me.  I’m screwed.  But wait, she likes to rush so many she’ll finish before the others.  You’re just going to drive yourself crazy because when it’s all said and done you have no control over when you get called or by whom.  If you do draw her, you’re only bet is to kindly offer your turn to someone who came in after you.  But what if he doesn’t want her either?  Then you find yourself in that awkward exchange of, “I thought you were next” “no I thought you were next.”  Meanwhile the barber wench is getting impatient and the counter girl thinks you’re an idiot because everyone knows it’s your turn.  “It’s not rocket science, just remember who came in right after you,” she mutters.  With this first option you also have to consider that there may not be anyone after you.  In this case you’re really S.O.L.

            Your second option comes if you’re lucky enough to be asked who you prefer.  Very convenient, but this is only your second time at the place and you don’t know anyone’s name.  No worries, it is perfectly acceptable to point at someone and say “him.”  So you forgot the guys name.  It’s okay, it happens all the time.  This second option is a little more solid, but it too can backfire.  What if the person you pick has an appointment and can’t cut your hair?  Now the lottery has been cut to two people; a coin flip.  Also there’s not always a front desk person.  At many places the barbers themselves greet you, and it could easily be the one you’re trying to avoid.  This can be intimidating, especially if she’s available.  You’d be facing the enemy in unfamiliar territory with no friendlies to bail you out.  This would force you to think on your feet, choose someone right away, and do so with confidence.  Most men buckle under the pressure.

            The final option, however, is so fool-proof, so ingenious, yet so simple that it didn’t occur to me until my most recent trip.  It requires thick skin and is not for the squeamish.  When you walk into the barber shop and asked who you prefer simply point and say “anyone but her.”  That’s it.  It’s that simple.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a clerk, a barber, or that devil-woman herself.  She‘ll probably get upset, even offended.  But you can’t care.  I know you never want to hurt someone’s feelings, but this is your hair we’re talking about and you’ve got a date. 

            You have to be one of Brando’s ideal soldiers in Apocalypse Now; a moral man who can act without feeling, passion, or judgment when he must.  Put on your camo paint before you hit that door.  That little bell becomes your bugle and sounds the battle.  It’s nothing personal, she’s just a casualty of war.