I got a haircut. I'd let my hair grow long on account of a bald spot that showed up on the side of my head. I have a condition called alopecia areata. That's when your hair falls out in spots temporarily. Mine fell out in a huge patch, the size of a baseball on the side of my head. My hair's slowly growing back, but not enough to warrant a short haircut.
So I took a chance in getting a haircut in the first place. I go to an old-timer named Tony. Tony's been cutting hair for sixty years. It's amazing he can still stand.
I showed Tony my bald patch, and told him I wanted my hair to cover it so don't cut it too short. What I've learned about Tony and just about every other barber I've been to, is that they're always agreeable, but never do what you ask.
I sat in the chair and Tony proceeded to brag about his hair cutting abilities and how great his business was doing. Then he told me a couple vengeful barber stories where he put customers in their place for questioning his abilities. I was entertained by his stories. they made me laugh. And Tony is a gentleman with good manners. I like him.
I noticed my hair flying in big chunks. Tony was using scissors that squeaked. I had complete confidence in him, even though the task was not simple. Long hair to short hair, with enough hair to cover the spot.
At the end of it Tony brought out a mirror. He held the mirror up and proudly showed off his work. My eyes popped out of my head when I saw what he'd done to me. He had my hair combed to one side, like Ann Rand and there were flaps of hair sticking straight out just behind my ears. The side with the bald patch was longer than the other side. All and all I was pretty disappointed with Tony's work. I didn't offer any compliments.
How much do I owe you? I asked
Tony recoiled with the question. He was obviously butt-hurt about it. I couldn't help that I didn't like the cut. He messed me up.
I had to ask my lady-friend to fix it for me. She doesn't cut hair, but she did a good job. It looks a lot better.
