Getting a haircut shouldn't be this rough
Is attempting to cut my own hair a bad idea?
No. 109: Getting a haircut shouldn’t be this rough
If I’m pushing the hair out of my face often enough you suspect I’ve developed a nervous tic, that’s because it’s a damn struggle to get a haircut as an adult male with a Medusa-like head of hair when you live in the suburbs of the central United States.
The ol’ reliables are around. Great Clips, Supercuts, Sports Clips. But are they actually reliable? What do they charge compared to the results? Is that a nine-year-old in the chair next to me? Is he getting mohawk while his mother livestreams and I try to avoid the camera?
And to think. I once had it so good.
It took a while to find a good barber, but I did, 1,853 miles away, in California. For the longest time, the ol’ reliables were all I had. Then I tried a place called Haircutting Co. and found a woman I could rely on. She was skilled, usually available, and gave me her personal phone number for ease of scheduling. The shop was casual, usually empty, and had a cage of canaries in the corner. Her flossy cuts cost only twelve dollars but were so good I always gave her a twenty. On top of the great haircut, this had added effect of making me feel like a baller.
Then, I moved to Illinois.
And now, I’m fucked.
The only option lately has been risking it all at some expensive salon or going to Sports Clips where an underpaid woman feigns cheeriness as she asks what kind of cut I want. I’m no expert, so I say, “This, but shorter,” then I apologize.
The whole ordeal is demeaning. I’ve even come to envy the women in my life for 1) being able to just let their hair grow and 2) knowing that good haircuts tend to cost a few bucks. I don’t want long hair and I’m a cheapskate. But still. Why do my options feel limited to finding a Rolex in the sand or going to Sports Clips forever?
This being the case, I wait until I can’t anymore, then I freak out as I come to the realization a “Varsity Haircut” is very likely in my near future.
Actually, this happened recently.
I landed an interview and figured the Leo DiCaprio was a better look than the Keanu Reeves in terms of getting the job. I delayed until the day before, as is my wont. Searching for some alternative — something, anything — I called a salon down the street. Cash only, and I had none. I searched barbers near me and regretfully clicked on the listing for my nearest Sports Clips. The tagline (“Haircuts for Men & Boys”) gave me an initial punch in the gut.
Worst, though, was the featured image (below) — a branded photo of a girl-next-door blonde smiling beside a bearded dude, clad in haircutting cape, who may or may not have been under the influence of Percocet at the time of the shoot.