Getting a haircut at the base barber shop is kinda of a gamble. You get a number as soon as you walk in, and whoever cuts your hair just depends on whenever your number is called. But where else can you get a $7 mop chop?
There's a certain lady who I always seem to get, and she's kinda odd. She's very chatty and kinda fidgety, two qualities I'd rather not see in someone who cuts my hair. I think getting my hair cut is soothing, and I'd rather just close my eyes and relax. But she likes to talk about her birds and her vacations and how hard it was growing up in Utah. And she always makes flattering remarks about my eyes, one time even calling over the girl in the next chair to look at them. Awkward!
Yesterday was no different. I went to get my hair cut, and sure enough, this lady calls my number. I go and sit down, and since I've been growing my hair out for the past few weeks, I'm rather shaggy. I tell her to use a #2 clipper on the sides, but not to touch the top. She asks if she can even up the top without taking any length off. Reluctantly, I say it's okay.
I've always put up with this jittery, talkative, bat-shit-crazy lady because she does a pretty good job cutting my hair. No more! She cut quite a bit off, and now I'm gonna have to start all over to get to my goal of being able to flip it back. From now on, I'll splurge for quality haircuts at SuperCuts or Fantastic Sam's or some other classy place.
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