10 AM at the Barbershop
The man bun had to go. I was getting fed up doing everything Google told me to, and still watch my hair break over and over again. It had been two years since my last haircut; the thought of leaving the struggle of long hair behind got me excited. So excited that I went online and booked the next available slot at the local barbershop. 10 AM the next day. A Tuesday. A closed door stopped me at 09:58. The barber showed up five minutes later and let me in. As I sat there in dead silence waiting for him to get ready, all I could think was: What the hell am I doing?
He tried. Put on music, asked me the classic questions about why I decided to give up the long hair, what I did for work... yeah, that was pretty much it. I didn't give him much to work with. Told him I do live streaming, but not the fun type where you play games all night. No. The type where you listen to CEOs and CFOs talk about numbers and how they are implementing AI for massive gains in productivity. Negativity conversation killer perfection, from yours truly. For the rest of the procedure, I was consigned to silence, and my own stupid reflection
No one was waiting for their turn when I left half an hour later. Conventional wisdom says that early mornings are for hair salons, not barbershops yet to wake up and become lively. Lesson learned.
Haircut was OK though, had better.