I have a job interview tomorrow, so I went to get a haircut today. I'm going to shave tonight before bed, which--if all goes well--will be in about thirty minutes.
When I get my haircut in South Bend, I go to a Great Clips (GC). GC is a franchise chain, and this one is conveniently close and cheap, so winner winner chicken dinner. Plus I've never had a bad haircut the several times I've been there, except one time.
There's this really weird barber dude who works there. He always wears a tweed jacket that is too big for him and slacks that you don't typically see on a barber. You usually see those type slacks at church or in an office job. He's in his late forties/early fifties and talks in this strange Texan/West Coast surfer hybrid accent. I've only been close to him once (thank God), and if I recall correctly he smells like cigarettes.
This guy creeps me out. I had him once for a haircut and was ready to run away. He looks like a lizard and will not stop talking to you, even if you don't give any indication of wanting to continue conversation. I hate that. I hate small talk in general; but when I want to politely end small talk and it keeps going, I began to lose my patience very quickly. He was talking about personal stuff too. At the time I was going to Notre Dame, and I told him that. He wouldn't shut up about how "awesome" it was that I went to school there. He then started talking about how he got kicked out of community college in Texas for poor grades. What does he want me to do, tell him I'm sorry? I don't know, but it was awkward. He took forever with my hair, which is highly unusual considering the place prides itself on giving you a good haircut in an efficient amount of time. The haircut was awful, and I paid him a pretty poor tip. I take my hair very seriously, believe it or not. I strongly considered never going back because of him, but I'm lazy and didn't really want to look for another stylist.
He's there every time I go to GC, too. Without fail, every single time. With his tweed jacket that's too big for him and his big googly eyes. That's an even more interesting quality because I rarely see the same few stylists at the GC more than twice. They must go through stylists like underwear, or contacts, or something. I figured he was a manager with his attire and his constant presence.
Anyway, I go in today and, unbeknown to me, there was a sale. While that's cool and all, the downside was that the place was packed. I never have to wait for a haircut at GC; but today I had to wait 25 minutes, as there were five people in line ahead of me. Ironically, I usually take a book with me when I get a haircut. I never need to use it, though, because I never have to wait. This time was different, so I just stared at a "Fast Company" magazine until it was my turn.
Well, no. There was something else I was doing during my wait. He was there, twead jacket and googly eyes, working on some poor kids hair. Aside from him, there were only three other styists; and my natural catastrophic thinking doomed to realize I was going to wind up with him today. Of course, I don't recognize any of the other stylists, but I naturally recognize him.
Naturally, all the other stylists finish with their customers they were originally occupied with when I entered well before he finished his. One of the others may have finished a second customer before he finished his. Regardless, he finally finished his customer when there were two people left in front of me on the list. Turns out, he took the customer waiting in line RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. I breathed a sigh of relief, and got a female stylist.
She was chatty, and I would have finished the story with the preceding paragraph if something else didn't happen. We were discussing why I wanted my hair the certain way I wanted it, which lead to discussing my job interview tomorrow. She then revealed that she was the new manager of Great Clips, which she subsequently groaned and ran off to the back--interrupting my haircut. This was unusual behavior, but nothing really significant on its own merits. She comes back and apologizes. I notice tweed jacket guy returning from the back in a sulking manner. "He's in a bad mood today", she mentions preemptively. Taking this as an opportunity to discuss him, I pounce on it and ask her if he's, like, a manager or something. "Because he's literally always here", I supported my question. "Nope, he has no authority, just a stylist", she said, with some contempt in her voice.
So cool, maybe this stylist is just way too chatty, but apparently he had gotten under her nerves enough for her to say something about the guy to a random stranger. I am really glad the guy's a jerk, too. I don't like disliking someone just for superficial reasons such as "creepiness", especially if he's a saint who gets along with everyone outside of my experience. But he's not, he's just a jackass--like I figured he would be. But, come on, he wears a tweed jacket, EVERYDAY, to work as a stylist. There's got to be something wrong with him.
So yeah, I didn't get that guy barber dude, and my day was better for it.
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