I needed a haircut, so I ventured out today to get one. VunderWife had previously insisted we go to some place in the mall close to home, and we liked the cuts, so I went back today.
I won’t darken their door ever again.
I’m an old guy, and quite staid in my ways, so naturally I like my hair short. My usual order is “Set your clippers for 1/2 inch, and go to town.” Any other time, and any other cutter would then put an attachment on the clippers, and lop off the long ones, with results that I like.
Said the exact same thing today, but I got more that I bargained for. She started messing with her clippers, and asked me twice if I really meant 1/2 inch. Well, yea, was my answer. I didn’t pay much attention after that, and she went to work.
She was most of the way done, and I happened to look up into the mirror. My hair was GONE. I was left with a 5 day shadow around my bald spots.
Me: “Holy shit!!!”
Brainless haircutter: “What?!?”
Me: “I said 1/2 inch. If my hair is 1/16 inch, I’ll lick your floor.”
BH: “I set the clippers for 1/2 inch like you said”, playing with the cutting head, which had no attachment.
Me: “Anyone else puts one of those comb doohickeys on when I say 1/2 inch, and I get the cut I expect. I think it’s called a #4”
BH: “I asked you twice if you really meant 1/2 inch, and that’s what you got.”
Me: “I always wanted to see what I looked like with my head shaved.”
I paid her and left, but I sure as hell didn’t tip her. I was in too much shock to be monumentally pissed.
I sat and fumed all afternoon, and by early evening, the monumental PO was there. I went back to yell at the manager.
Me: “I want to bitch about my haircut.”
Manager: “What is there to complain about? There’s not much left.” Bad move, you cunt.
Me: “When a customer says 1/2 inch, what does that mean?”
CM: “We cut right down to the scalp.” Sonovabitch, that’s what they did.
Me: “So how the hell do I say I want my hair 1/2 inch long?”
CM: “Tell her to use a #4. I’m not going to refund any money, because she cut your hair the way you instructed.”
Me: “I didn’t ask for a refund. And I’ll be damned if I ever come here again.”
Most of you don’t know what I looked like before, but it’s easy now. Find a modern day picture if G. Gordon Liddy, and mentally make him fat.