Messin’ Around

I quit my volunteer gig at the hospital. I called the gift shop manager a couple of days ago and told her I would drop the badge by the hospital in a couple of weeks. I’ve been there a year. I’ve done enough. Kind of reminds of that movie “Babe” where the farmer says, “That’ll do, pig. That’ll do.” And so, I did enough. I wish I had not wasted $16 on white shirts from Target for a uniform I’ll never wear. I’ve already washed the shirts. It’s not like I can return ‘em.

I got a haircut yesterday. It’s the same place I always use, a tiny shop across the street from the grocery. I like these women in this beauty salon. They are friendly and their kids always seem to come in when I’m there. It’s a family atmosphere and a lot of the regulars I see around the burg frequent the place. More importantly, they give me a good haircut.

It’s weird when I get a haircut. I can predict the second the barber runs up on that long scar down the back of my head. If the barber is talking, she/he stops and if she/he is not talking, she starts. Sometimes I explain, and sometimes I don’t. To be honest, most of them cut my hair and never part it just right to see the long scar. The most observant do.

I like these haircutters, so I thought I had told them there was a scar back there, but either I forgot or they did. Not only did she part my hair, but she clipped it in the back. I saw her in the mirror looking at the back of my head. She had been silent up until that point. After that, there was much conversation, mostly about Michael Jackson. When I got ready to leave, she asked, “Are you all right?”

“You saw the scar,” I said.

She nodded. “Well, most people don’t see it,” I said. “I’m fine.” She smiled and then told me the wrong price for the haircut. As soon as she said it, she winced.

“That’s the wrong price, isn’t it?” I asked.

She nodded again. “I say the man’s price.” I wondered how bad the scar looked on the back of my head. I gave her $20. That is the going price in the neighborhood, and that would be the woman’s price for a haircut with a healthy tip.

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10 Responses to “Messin’ Around”

  1. I got my hair cut a couple of days ago. The same place for the last 20 years or so. Not a barber, you don’t see many of those in Germany. A hair saloon where they do women and men. The Ladies (they have changed over the years) cut my hair. Riuns about 20 with the exchange rate for Euros. I go about once a month.

    • The same place for 20 years? That’s a dedicated customer. Places come and go here in Oakland, as I’m sure you know. Despite that, the salon biz sounds amazing similar to that of your hamlet. I enjoy hearing about the differences and similarities. The one thing I long for is your quiet time. It is too noisy around here.

      • My wife went there before me. I got tired of the Army barbers and decided to let the ladies cut my hair. The granddaughter of the original hairdresser runs the place now. I’ve had Italian, Russian, and German ladies cut my hair over the years. Not so much hair anymore and the color is pretty much gray, but it still needs cutting.

      • I love places like that. We have a meat market run by the grandson of the original owner.

  2. I had my hair done today too! The salon I go to is the 4th one since we moved down here. The young lady I’m going to now is nice but she asks what I want then does what she wants 😦
    I do hate the thought of trying a new salon so soon. The prices here are horrible. I get a cut and color ( I came in this world blonde and I intend on going out blonde) one salon charged me $325.00 ok left there. Now it seems the norm rate is about $200. This young lady got on to me today because so much of my color had grown out. I wanted to tell her if she didn’t charge so friggin much maybe I could come in more often! Hairstylist can’t live with ’em … can’t live without ’em!

    • DAMN! Those are San Francisco prices there, Connie. I gave up with the dying because I was too cheap and too lazy. Now it’s just grey. I do think I looked better as a blond. I love your sentence, “I came in this world blonde and I intend on going out blond)” Right on!

  3. I’ve got a scar story! About a month after I had major kidney surgery (I was 19 years old), I was shopping for some clothes, I was in the dressing room stripped down to my bra and undies, when the sales lady threw open the curtain, and then I heard her gasp as she got a good look at the foot and a half long scar, which was still either black and blue, greenish yellow, or bright red. The scar looked horrible because you could still see the 300 holes where the stitches were and the drain hole was still a sickly purple color. She just about screamed, but controlled herself and asked me what happened, but I wasn’t in the mood for my kidney surgery story, so I told her I was surfing in Hawaii and a shark came up under me and ripped my wooden surfboard in half, and as I scrambled to escape the shark the ripped edge of my surfboard sliced me. She bought it hook, line, and sinker. I love a good story.

    • OMG! I laughed so hard at this. I want to steal the story so bad but I don’t think anyone would buy a shark biting my tiny head and then spitting it out. Maybe I could say he didn’t like my hair gel.

  4. For good or ill, your health problems are (mostly) hidden. Karen, of course, had to use a cane almost from the start of her problems. Back when she was in her twenties, and even into her thirties, people (mostly old people) would make a big fuss over the young woman with the cane, did you hurt yourself, dear? etc. Oh, and the dirty looks we’d get parking in the handicapped spot! I’d get out first and some people felt compelled to say, “You know that’s for handicapped people only.” I’d usually just stare them down until Karen got out of the car.

    • People are asses, aren’t they? I don’t know why they have to comment sometimes, but then other times they don’t and make just as big a mess.

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