The Time I Got My Haircut (Part 2)

She starts the shampoo routine and seems competent, until the cutting begins. She has trouble gripping the hair and starts cutting off about 1/8^th of 1/8^th of an inch at the time. Amounts so incrementally small that I’m not even sure she was cutting hair. At the 20 minute mark, Buffy nicks herself with the hair razor and has to stop the cut to tend to the open wound on her finger. ( My immediate reaction was not for her safety, but if there was now blood in my hair. That shit does not come out.)

She returns, and now my hair is drying out, but instead of re-spritzing with water, she just keeps cutting dry hair (a no-no). At the 40 minute mark she switches to shears and starts butchering the side of my head with the tips. At one point, I swore that she cut through my skin like it was plastic wrap on Perdue chicken. She takes too much of a sideburn off, cuts the hair unevenly on each side and then considers the work done.

She calls over her supervisor again, who tells her that she missed a bunch of spots and needs to “connect” all the sides and top, after re-wetting my hair. Buffy does not re-wet my hair, instead opting to cut dry. 2 minutes later the supervisor sees that she has not re-wet my hair and scolds her (as I sit her thanking the stars that the supervisor recognized her error). Buffy openly scoffs at having to be told to do something twice and complains to me that she doesn’t get along with the supervisor. I silently plead for her not to take it out on me.

At last, at the 1 hour and 15 minute mark, she finishes, calls over the supervisor, who cleans up some spots and asks me if I’m happy. I say yes, just so I can leave. Buffy walks me to the front counter, where I go to pay (hoping for somewhere between the $10-15 range. The final total: $27. TWENTY SEVEN, which is $2 MORE than I pay for a real haircut from the professional.

I’m not sure why I included a $5 tip on something that was terribly done, but I suppose I felt bad for Buffy (who by the way, looked suspiciously like a post botox Janice Dickinson). But the fact that I gave her written down instructions (there were only 3 steps) and she still battered my head like a red headed stepchild, means that I’m obviously a sap. The lesson here is that you should never ever participate in hair experimentation.