I recently got a haircut. I have frequented this establishment many times before, but this time I got Ruby — a woman of extreme southern heritage. I have had many good experiences at this particular hair cuttery — until now.
As I entered, my ears were immediately filled with the sounds of Ruby verbally destroying a co-worker who was not present. I gave them my name and waited. After 10 minutes or so, Ruby approached the cosmetologist podium and belched my name. I say belched because that is what she literally did the entire time she cut my hair. She also had a fit of the hiccups which caused her belly to bounce against me as I sat trapped in her chair. She blamed her gastro-problems on what she referred to as her “fresh Pepsi”. I don’ t even know what that means, but I will never order it from a fast food joint if it is on the menu.
She continued to cut my hair — combing with such violence that with one stroke she was able to move my hair creating a part that looked as though it was made with a laser. She also assaulted me with mediocre questions that ended with prepositions.
When she was apparently finished, she told me to run my hands through my hair and then asked me how it felt. It felt fine. She then whipped off the giant bib I was wearing and then walked away leaving behind the thin piece of white material that serves some purpose. It was clinging desperately to my Adam’s apple before I pulled it off and wiped the piles of hair from my kneecaps. My haircut was ridiculous.
At the cosmetologist podium I waited with my debit card to pay but she was too busy running her co-worker into the ground again. After a good 3 minutes, she took my card and swiped it. $11. I tipped her $4 hoping that the next poor soul might find Ruby in better spirits. Good luck Next Guy.