Monday, January 03, 2005

Give me those scissors

Everyone knows the old adage "The customer comes first". And how many ways have we heard it... "The customer is king." "Listen to your customers." "You work for your customers." "Our customers are our number one priority." Get the drift? After years and years of searching, I've finally come up with an exception to this universal rule. That's right folks - I've discovered the one business in the world (mafia aside) where the customer is not king. Are you ready? Are you on the edge of your seats? Haircuting.

I don't know what it is about getting a haircut that shifts the power from customer to cutter. I'll bet many of you know what I'm talking about without even mentioning another word. I got a little trim just the other day. I'll take that back. I was attempting to get a little trim just the other day... I was hoping to get just a little trim just the other day... I was praying to get just a little trim just the other day... Heck, I even walked into my local Supercuts, sat in my designated stool, and when prompted the usual "How would you like it cut today?", I replied matter-of-factly: "Just a little trim please." I swear on my life (not that it's worth that much) that's exactly what I said. How in the world "a little trim" gets translated into "shave it all off" I have no idea. I even specified: "Maybe just a quarter inch or so, not much more." But there I was, sitting silently in my chair, watching as she proceeded to cut off a quarter inch, then another quarter inch, then another and another... Before you know it, it's all gone. She kept quarter inching me until there were no more quarter inches to be cut. The bizarre thing is, not once during this procedure did I hold my ground. Not once did I grab the scissors out of her hand and stand up and shout at the top of my lungs: "ENOUGH ALREADY!!! I SAID JUST A QAURTER INCH GODDAMM IT!!! What the @#$% are you doing???" Instead, I just sat there squirming in my little seat afraid to utter a sound. Not one peep. Until there was not one more hair on my head to be cut. It was all on the floor.

For those of you waiting on pins and needles for an explanation, you're not going to get one. I don't have one. It's one of those unexplained mysteries. It's an enigma. Sort of like the Bermuda Triangle. And even at the end when she asks me: "So whadaya think?" There's my chance. There's my golden opportunity to give the scalding review she deserves. There's my one opening to rip her a new one and send her back to haircutting school where she belongs (do they even have a haircutting school?). She asked for it and here it comes lady... "Ummm... Errr... It looks good. Nice job. Thanks."

Go figure.


At 11:12 PM, Blogger lightly-toasted said...

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I was in love with your blog site.

At 10:22 AM, Blogger Tarun Theogaraj said...

Man, and here's me thinking I'm the only wimp who can't stand up to his barber!


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