Samson and Delilah-in-training
For years I went to the local Beauty College for cheap haircuts. For a nominal fee, I’d let the students learn from their mistakes, something I apparently didn’t learn from. Maybe it’s low self-esteem or the simple realization that a major tonsorial make-over isn’t going to matter one whit, I don’t know but I hate getting a haircut and I particularly hate paying for one.
Course, I had a couple of memorable coifs, usually at the hands of gay guyz I let experiment on me, what I call Revenge on the Straight Boy. One unforgettable clip left me with a standing wave that no amount of shampooing or combing would tame. A year later it exhausted itself on the beach of my forehead and I never let another avant-garde stylist do a dada surrealist masterpiece with my locks. I assume my sadist scissorist has long since died of nostril cancer from the chemicals in blue hair perms — or at least I hope so. If he could embarrass me, an avowed unhandsome sort, he should probably have been brought up on atrocity charges.
I’ve had my share of bad cuts, most at the hands of those Beauty College students, but some from Ozark butchers hoping to teach the hippie a lesson with an Army cut or small town barbers who learned their craft using a bowl and shears, same as my old man when we were little shavers. Needless to say I go in for a clearcut every year or even two, usually, like today, when I’m off to a job interview. Which, sadly, should give you some insight into the frequency of these job interviews.
These days I go to the chains, SuperCuts or Great Clips or Hairy Masters. They don’t cut any better than the students, but they cut quick. And quick, if you’re a Samson in the hands of your tattooed Delilah, is of the essence. Half hour silences in the swivel stool seem like an eternity — I’ll pay extra for a 5 minute speed snip. I leave a nice tip, say adios, then slap my beat up hat over their artistry. By the time I come back my salon will have closed or been bought up by another carnivorous chain. One free haircut after the 10th, they like to tell me, handing me a coupon card with the #1 circled. Right…. Talk to my undertaker.
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