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The barber's assumption by Thebarbered1
This is a true story……… A few years ago, as I was walking along, I saw this barbershop next to a railway station. It was a very old fashioned, traditional one with a wonderful red and white barbers pole, whirring away outside. After I had walked past, peering in as I so often found I did, I found as I was absolutely transfixed by it. I was itching to actually go in and have my haircut there. It wasn't really local to where I lived, and my hair at that time was only just beginning to get longer again, but I knew I was going by that way again in a week or so. I thought, next time, I'd allow myself more time and go inside there.
I thought about it all week. I couldn't take my mind off it, and the anticipation grew as each day went by. I kept wondering what I was going to ask for.
Eventually, the day came. As I once again got there, I slowly walked up to the door and walked in. There were four chairs in there, but only one barber. He was a tall gentleman, probably around mid 50s, and had a dark blue nylon barbers jacket on. He was just finishing a client, while having a discussion with another customer, sitting nearby, who was waiting. He looked up, and smiled, and I went and sat in the waiting area and waited, looking round and taking in the environment around me.
Next to the chair the barber was at, there were a large selection of haircutting implements – clippers and attachments, scissors, combs, brushes, and bottles and pots of lotions and hair creams, neatly arranged on a shelf and a small table. On the walls, there were framed pictures of men with different haircuts, mainly short.
After a few moments, the client he had been doing, was finished and left, I smiled to the other customer, but he said "It's OK, we're just talking. You're next….” My mind went into overdrive, as I was hoping to be able to sit down, waiting a bit and take in my surroundings a bit more.
I stood up, not wanting buts of itchy hair down my neck, did up the top button of my shirt, and, with my heart pounding, slowly walked over to the chair. I sat down. The barber's conversation with the other gentleman continued, as he shrouded a white striped cape over me, tucked a neck tissue in and snapped it closed around me neck.
At this point, I expected him to turn to me and ask me what I wanted. This didn't happen however, and, while remaining deep in conversation, took a comb out and combed it through my hair.
After that, he got some scissors and started snipping away at my hair on top. Bits of my hair were dropping down on to my cape in front of me. My heart was really pounding now as he was clearly just assuming what I wanted, and I was totally oblivious of what he actually had in mind. I just found I couldn't speak, and anyway, he was still deep in conversation with the other gentleman. All I could do is just sit there and see what he was going to do.
Bit by bit, my hair on top became shorter. As the conversation still continued, with not a word to me, the clippers came on. He clicked on an attachment, which on thinking back, must have been a 2, and moved my head forward so it was bowed down. I knew that this is where the haircut would most tell, as I felt it run up the back of my neck.
A few moments later, he moved my head forward again and tilted it to each side, before taking the clippers up my sides and around the top of my ears. After changing the attachment (to I think, a 1), and holding each of my ears down in turn, he then trimmed neatly around them before going back across the back, creating a neat taper on the hairline. I have to say, this was an amazing scenario to the haircut I was itching to get in here and I was getting quite excited at the haircut that was emerging.
At this point, the other gentleman left, and it was just me and the barber. He looked at me, smiled and asked if I was OK? "Sorry about that (he said), just someone I know”. "That's fine” I replied. He undid the cape and brushed me down, before snapping it closed again in place and tucking in a large neck tissue at the back. "I'll just finish you off” he said, and I felt lather being applied across the back of my neck and up towards me ear. He picked up a straight razor, and I could feeling him shaving it up. Finally, he picked up a towel and cleaned up any remnants of lather left behind and removed the large tissue and unclipped the back of the cape. Before removing it altogether, he picked up a mirror and showed me my back in the reflection in the mirror at front of me.
For a few seconds, I was quite shocked, but then realised I really liked it. It ended up being the barber's assumption of what I wanted, him never asking me, but I thought it looked really smart. A brilliant scenario to the visit to the barber I was itching to try out.