"A Shave and a Stalk?"

On an early summer evening I was strolling up 6th Avenue when my neighborhood barber accosted me. O.K., accosted isn’t entirely accurate but he did surprise me in the hurried panic in which he approached. He quickly explained that he was trying out employment at a new barbershop, which he indicated was behind him with a head nod over the shoulder or a jerk of the thumb in its direction. How he indicated where he was working isn’t really important but I was so surprised that he was talking to me without scissors in his hand that I was hardly paying attention to where the new barbershop was located. I just know that he did, in fact, clearly indicate where the shop was. He could have turned and pointed and told me the name of the new shop. I don’t know. I was weeks away from my next haircut and for some reason I was not entirely comfortable with this new out-of the-barber chair facet of our haircutting relationship.

From what I could make from his story, he was unsure how the new shop would work out and he may return to his previous (and my regular) barbershop. So in order to keep me apprised of the situation he requested my phone number. Wait, what? Now I started paying attention. “Can I please have your phone number and in a couple of weeks I will call and let you know where I am for your next haircut?” What was I supposed to do? I gave him my phone number.

Now, let me explain something about my hair. I keep it short. I cut it simple. I ask for a # 3 all around and sit back and let the barber do his work. Then I am gone 10 minutes later. I go back for my next cut ~ 4-6 weeks later which is about the time that I just can’t walk out of the shower, dry my head, and be off. I know I need a haircut if a brush or comb is needed. (Female readers, please take note that I am low maintenance.) If I was smart and not financially careless I would have invested in a razor years ago and just cut my own hair. (Female readers, please ignore references to my lack of intelligence and fiscal irresponsibility.)

A few weeks pass and I find I have terrible bed-head after a night’s respite and a wedding to attend in my near future. I need a haircut but my barber hasn’t called. I don’t know where he is plying his trade. I walk past my barbershop and casually peer into the window and not only do I not see him but another barber is at his chair wildly cutting away. I figure that as he went to the trouble of flagging me down on the street and I gave him my phone number, I should at least make some effort to track him down. I now wish I was paying better attention when he was pointing to his new barbershop. I go back to where he first stopped me on the street, only a couple blocks from my barbershop, and through shrewd triangulation methods I find the barbershop I think he was indicating. I walk past and he’s not there either. I give up on getting a haircut that day. I need a day to think this over. I tell my brother about my dilemma and he, in no uncertain terms, informs me that there is no dilemma.

This response elicited an interesting question in me. Why do I feel so loyal to this barber? Any trained barber could cut my hair. He’s not even the first barber I had at this barbershop. My first barber disappeared and I ended up in this one’s chair one day. I’ve only been going to him around a year. The next day I decide to go to my barbershop and just get a haircut, damn my sense of loyalty. I enter; my barber is not there. I ask after him. “He’s on vacation. Don’t worry, we take very good care of you.” I get into the next available chair and afterward, notice no discernable difference in the quality of cut. As loyalty to my former barber leaves me, so I leave the barbershop.

Then I get a phone message a few days later. “This is _________, your barber, who cuts your hair. Call me back.” Oh, boy. I just had my hair cut. Again, what to do? I promptly ignore the message. Weeks later, another message arrives. Shortly thereafter, in a third message he lets me know the new barbershop he’s working at. While not far, it’s in a different neighborhood. How can I be expected to walk ten blocks out of my way when I have a perfectly good barbershop nearby? If I had moved 10 blocks I wouldn’t continue with him as my barber, I’d find a new one. The proximity of his new locale solves any remaining loyalty issues I might have had. I can now continue at my regular barbershop with no guilt. Just in time, as I am getting a little shaggy on top. I just hope he deletes my phone number.