The Haircut

So whenever I go to get a haircut, the stylist always asks me what I want done. I tell them, and then they say, “So a 4 then? Maybe a 5?” I have no idea what these numbers mean. All I know is that I usually get a 4.

My hair was getting too long and in that ‘ugh’ state, so I went to get my haircut today. I told the gal I wanted it shorter than usual today. I showed her how much, indicating with my fingers. “So.. a 4?” I think I usually get a 4, I want it shorter. “So a 5?” “Um.. isn’t that longer than a 4? Honestly I don’t understand the numbers thing.” She paused and said, “A.. a 3 then? That short?” I gestured, once again, with my fingers. “Okay.. wow that is awful short, are you sure?” I said, “Well I usually get a 4 and I want it shorter so a 3 sounds fine.”

She kept remarking throughout the cut things like “oh boy” and “this is short” and “does this feel ok?” etc. I began to grow nervous. I wear glasses, so I could not see what she was doing.

When she was done, she looked at me, proud faced, and said, “Ok, how’s it look?”

I looked in the mirror once my glasses were back on. She shaved my head. I now look like a Navy Seal. “Oh, uh, thanks.. yeah its, er, great… thank you.”

I gave her the usual tip, I mean, maybe it was my fault for not knowing what a “3” was. She looked at my tip and said, “Oh wow, thank you!!!!” With a genuine smile on her face.

Great. I gave her too much of a tip and now I look like I’m ready to join the Coast Guard.





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