Today I went and got myself a haircut.
I don’t get it cut very often and as a result, I get a bit nervous. When I get nervous, I get slightly louder than normal.
‘Haircut please!’ I bellowed as I burst into the barbers.
Why did I shout haircut please? Of all the things to say. She nearly dropped her scissors.
Here’s why I struggle:
I can’t make conversation with hairdressers.
I’m a talkative person. I like a good chin wag. A good natter.
Put an apron on me and sit me in front of a mirror and it’s like getting blood from a stone.
I don’t know what happens to me. For years I went to a barber that didn’t speak a word of English. We got on like a house on fire. We communicated very well, mostly with hand gestures. He would cut my hair and I would give him a thumbs up, indicating that the haircut pleased me. He would then hold up some fingers indicating how much the haircut would cost. Simple. We were like brothers.
Today’s haircut was full of awkward silences as I struggled to communicate with the hairdresser on a basic human level. ‘How long have you been a hairdresser?’ I asked her, trying to sound genuine. I wasn’t bothered at all how long she’d been cutting people’s hair but I thought I could fill a good 2-3 minutes of silence.
‘5 years’ she said.
We didnt speak again until she’d finished.
She showed me the back of my head with a mirror and I said ‘Thank you that’s great.’ I just wanted to leave as soon as possible.
She could have shaved a Nike tick into the back of my head and I would have said ‘Thank you that’s great.’
I don’t enjoy staring at my own face.
Let’s talk about the problem I have with my face. My face, relaxed and expressionless, is not good.
I look better whilst smiling, so I smile a lot. When you get a haircut you’re forced to constantly look at your own face relaxed and expressionless. Here’s my thought process as I’m looking at myself.
‘Right then there it is, there’s your face. There is your ridiculous face. Look it at. So gormless. You are a moron with a ridiculous gormless face.’
The only solution that I can think of would be for me to smile at myself in the mirror throughout the entire haircut.
Obviously that would be absolutely terrifying and I would probably be asked to leave.
I get an overwhelming urge to touch my nose.
There are two types of people.
The people that can resist the urge to scratch their nose during a haircut, and the people that absolutely can’t.
I’m the second one. I tend to try and get a good noise scratch in before that apron goes on but pretty much as soon as it does, I’m thinking about scratching my nose. I don’t know what it is that makes me think I can’t scratch it.
I’m sure if I said to the person cutting my hair, ‘I just need to scratch my nose’ that they would just say ‘No problem. You can absolutely scratch your nose.’
What do I think is going to happen? ‘I just need to scratch my…’ ‘SILENCE! Scratching is FORBIDDEN!’
I don’t like paying.
Today’s haircut cost £9.95. Which is £10 isn’t it?
£10. For 20 minutes of awkward silences, nose scratching urges and gormless face staring.
I didn’t even get a hot flannel. Once I went to a barbers that provided a complimentary hot flannel.
I was chuffed.