Ears Lowered

I started off this weekend by getting a long-overdue haircut. it felt good.

By the way, I’m not particularly brand loyal when it comes to getting my ears lowered. I just follow the coupons! On the other hand, I do like the ‘online check-in’ offered by this particular establishment. In fact, I even down-loaded an app for my smart phone. That app allows me to do online check-in from anywhere.

Nice.

Anyway, as my stylist buzzed away with the #6, I was looking around the room - doing some people watching and just basically considering how an establishment like this one - featuring the 'walk-ins welcome’ sign - really does attract a cross section of the community.

For example, there was the young family off to my left.

A little red-haired tot looked to be getting his first hair cut. He was handling it well. But, judging by the excitement from mom, dad and big brother, it wasn’t your run of the mill trip to the barber. I’d say it was quite likely that some photos would be taken and some clippings preserved for a baby book before this transaction was complete.

At the front of the shop was a very elderly frail lady who was helped into her seat by a somewhat less elderly lady with a pronounced smoker’s voice. She was talking to her stylist in a very animated fashion - telling this story and that; one after another.

In through the front door came a man who was talking on his cell phone. He paused from that conversation to inquire about the wait time. When he assessed the crowd (and the wait), he said he’d just come back tomorrow and he went on.

He resumed his phone conversation as he headed back to his vehicle. Judging from the tenor of the conversation, there was business to be done.

And then there was the guy sitting in my seat where the cuttings were raining down onto a black drop cloth.

I watched it pile up.

I can play the chatty customer or I can be silent. I usually take my cue from the person cutting my hair. On this day, the young lady with the clippers was fairly quiet. She asked me a few questions pertaining to the hair cut but she wasn’t interested in chit-chatting about the weather, the Vols or weekend plans. She was just doing the job.

And I was fine with that.

I was enjoying listening to the sounds in the shop - the chatter of customers, the whirring sound of the clippers and the drip, drip, drip as a few more clippings went tumbling into my lap signaling that a much-needed hair cut was nearing its conclusion.

JG

Originally posted 2/24/2013