I was in desperate need of a haircut after three or four weeks of living in LA.
So, we (April, my sister Meem, and I, all in need of cuts) headed over to Rudy's Barbershop - Silverlake. It's next to a cool store I had gone to before (Uncle Jer's), it's only a minute from our place, and there were plenty of the tragic hipsters mulling about, so I figured that's an easy choice to get a decent haircut. We went in and got added to a waiting list controlled by the great unwashed. I swear, half the people looked like they were extra-greasy on purpose to achieve a look.
The wait was about 40 minutes.
And then I was called to the resident genius, Liz. Liz looked like she needed to eat about six cheeseburgers, get a good night's sleep, and get a haircut.
She led me to her station. I sat in the chair and told her what I wanted -- something really tight around the sides and back, spiky and easy mohawky up the middle. Sounded clear, and seemed like she understood. We've all seen a variation on this one, unless you are in an unfortunate rural location somewhere, dialing up to connect on your Dell.
First, Liz tried with the flirt chat. Any guy knows this. It's when a woman in sales or service is way more nice to you than you have ever been treated by casual acquaintances. I hate that. I shut it down and worked my wife into the conversation whenever she was trying too hard, because for those of you who don't know: It's all about getting your hair shampooed. You want to lay back and have your hair washed and head rubbed while a good-smelling woman has her rack inches away from your face. It's the guilty pleasure. It's why most straight men consciously enter a salon atmosphere for their haircut.
Liz did not shampoo me, or offer to.
She started trimming away, chatting with me about the horrors of Florida and the null and void of Miami "culture." And it was all over so fast. You know how you can't really tell whether it's a good cut until the hair is styled or rewashed? She took the drapery off (whatever you call that thing that they wrap over you to stop the hair clippings from getting all over the place) and then said (very slightly paraphrased), "Well, I didn't give you what you asked for. We have been seeing too many of those lately, so some of us don't do them anymore. I refuse to do them ever. You'll thank me."
I was stunned. I put my hat back on the lazy business cut I was then stuck with -- and went home.
It took a while to sink in. WTF just happened? "The customer is always right." Wrong. But the customer should be allowed to request a service and be denied before the job is accepted. In no profession is it acceptable to do what you feel like on a job when asked and expected to do something else. "Mrs. Hildebrand, I know you came in for a check-up, but I felt like giving you a hysterectomy and I threw in a Brazilian wax for the hell of it." NO! It does not work that way.
So Liz had some vision and work ethic to live up to. Fine. But she did not have the balls, maturity, class, professionalism (brain?) to tell me that BEFORE she started cutting my hair?! Stylists, haircutters, barbers -- they don't get to dictate your style unless you sit in the chair and say, "Do whatever." Otherwise, they are deferring to your requests and fashion.
Throughout history, hairstyles are dictated by fashion, and you know about 80% of hairstyles are laughable in retrospect, but at the time they are, well... timely. And you know what style I am seeing too much of lately? Neo-hippie/hipster unwashed unkempt bohemian.
So Liz and her upright giving-only-meritous-haircuts contemporaries can't stop them. Because the style seems to be not getting their haircut.