Barber Shop Parking Only! by Manny

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'Of all the nerve!' I thought to myself as I watched the tall man, impeccably dressed in full business attire, glance at the sign and then scurry away from his sleek Mercedes roadster convertible.

BARBER SHOP PARKING ONLY - OTHER CARS WILL BE TOWED AT OWNER'S EXPENSE

I knew the type -- disdainful, narcissistic, full of himself. Those sort of rules only apply to little people, like butchers and bakers and barbers -- not to big shot attorneys!

There was a big law firm on the corner, and parking was normally tight. At least once a month, some self-absorbed legal professional would park in my shop's reserved area and scurry off. Usually, I wouldn't call the tow truck for at least an hour because I didn't want to bother my buddy who ran the tow service. More than once, he'd come with the truck and find the offending car long gone.

But, today, I sort of snapped. That man's haughty demeanor. The way he glanced at the shop, as if it were the last place on earth he would ever enter. His gleaming chestnut locks carefully arranged in a power helmet style. Oh, to have the chance to introduce Mr. Big Shot to the fastfeed electric hair clippers! Teach him a thing are two as he watched his treasured locks pile up on the cape in his lap.

I dialed Eddie, "There's a brand-new Mercedes convertible that needs to be hauled off to your back lot. Some jerk! Any chance you can come now?"

I was in luck. Eddie was actually only a few blocks away. Within minutes that $200K hot rod was being pulled up onto Eddie's tow truck, and then it was gone!

Half hour later I relished watching a panicked not-so-big shot seriously agitated! Mr. Pretty Boy, with his elegant coif, looking around feverishly, pacing about the sidewalk.

Then he burst into my shop.

"The Mercedes that was parked in front?" he asked -- actually, almost demanded -- not even bothering to say hello.

"What about it?" I replied in a semi-disinterested tone, examining my nails.

"Where is it?!" he snapped.

"Tow truck took it about ten minutes ago," I said.

"Towed?!" he gasped. "That car is less than a month old. Nothing better happen to it or someone is going to have a lawsuit on their hands!"

"Did you read the sign?" I asked impassively. "It clearly indicates that the place you parked in was reserved for barber shop patrons."

"And how did you know I wasn't going to be one? I just had to drop a few documents off at the law firm and then..." he huffed.

"...and then you were going to come straight in and get a haircut?" I asked, full of skepticism. "I see that you are actually quite in need of one. That mange is looking rather shaggy."

He instinctively looked in the mirror. Ah, his elegant mane, styled into a perfect executive coif!

"Well," he hedged, smoothing his silken locks. "Maybe that was the plan, to get a bit of a trim. But now I have to..."

"Take a seat then. I'll call the towing company and ask them to bring the car back, as a favor. They may or may not bring it back, though. Once the car is on the truck, they'll only get their fee if..." I started to explain until Mr. Big Shot cut me off.

"I'll pay the damn fee! Now call the freakin' tow truck!" the man exploded.

"I don't like your tone one bit!" I snapped right back.

I pointed to the big Koken chair, a wonderful throne-like piece of vintage furniture with red leather upholstery atop chrome and white enamel.

"Once you're sitting there, caped and calm, I'll call Eddie and have him bring back the car," I said firmly. "Until then, you pretty little piece of automobile is heading into the warehouse district, down by the docks. A real rough area. And don't think the driver is going to use kid gloves when the car gets dumped into the lot. Boom! Slammed down onto the tattered asphalt!"

And, suddenly Mr. Bossy was so Mr. Alpha-Male as when he strode into the shop!

The man looked at the chair....and the line of clippers hanging from the counter. He was frozen, so unwilling to take a seat.

His voice and face soften. "You see, the car isn't even mine. It's my brother's. He just got it and I asked to use it for the day. I'm thinking about getting one myself. He warned me not to get a single scratch on it. That's why I didn't use the parking garage. I thought the space out in front there was a lot safer," he explained.

"Oh, it is. Very safe! I keep my eye on my patrons' cars while giving haircuts. But, once Eddie gets it to that tow lot, there's no telling what sort of damage and vandalism could happen to that pricey powder puff you pulled up in!" I said, again ramping up his anxiety.

"Damage? Vandalism?!" he gasped.

"It's either that chair or that door. Understood? And, it'll be barber's choice for that overgrown bush!" I said.

OUCH! It felt so good - I held all the cards and he'd been a total jerk!

He looked defeated and began slinking over to the chair.

"Take off that coat and tie first," I snapped.

He was not used to being submissive. I loved watching his hesitant hands beginning to remove his trappings of power. And that beautiful hair....how much of it would fall to my feet? PLENTY!

He mounted the footrest slowly and sat himself in the chair, full of uneasiness.

"Are you going to call the tow truck driver now?" he whined.

I took my time securing the white cotton cape extra tight around his neck. He looked so miserable....

Then I picked up the receiver of the phone on the counter and dialed Eddie's cell phone.

"Hey, sorry. But there's been a little mix-up. That Benz you're hauling away. Turns out it belongs to a new client. He just ran into another building for a few minutes. But he's in the chair now. Any chance you could bring the car back? He said he'll pay the towing fee. But take your time. There's no rush...." I said.

The man got agitated and started signaling to make it a quick return.

"Like I said, there's no rush because I want to take my time and give him the perfect flattop," I said calmly, alerting him to what was in store for his precious coif.

He grimaced.

"You can tell he's very particular about his hair. Every strand in place sort of guy. I want to give him a very precise flattop so that he becomes a regular here," I said.

Eddy told me he was turning around and bringing the car back. I surreptitiously hung up, but continued talking on the phone, pretending to communicate with the tow truck driver.

"Say, those delinquents aren't still invading your lot with crowbars and smashing out the windows, are they?" I asked.

The caped attorney's eyes opened wide with panic.

"They are?! Oh, and bashing in the metal work too? You should call the police! Oh, yeah, right, you don't want the fuzz snooping around the lot. Yep, half hour will be fine." I hung up the phone and smiled at the man.

"He's bringing back the car, right?!" the caped man asked fretfully.

"That's the plan," I replied as I grabbed a huge set of Oster's and brandished the machine about to intimidate the poor man.

I don't want a flattop! In fact, I don't want any haircut," he whimpered.

"No one is making you sit here. I can give you the address for the lot. It's listed on the sign too. If you hurry, perhaps the crowbar wielding lads won't have time to...." I smirked.

He looked dejected and defeated. "Go ahead, cut it! I just need that car back safe and in pristine condition."

I yanked a comb through the sprayed coif and made him wince a bit.

Then I tugged at the full area near the nape, a bit.

"This is the first thing that's going," I laughed.

"So, what do you say? Landing strip or no landing strip on top?" I asked.

"No landing strip!" he gasped, realizing how brutal the haircut would be.

I swiveled the chair away from the mirror. His new look would be a total surprise! The dramatic unveiling of his new look as the chair would slowly turned. His pained reaction upon seeing his new shorn look!

I clamped my hand on the thick, silky locks and forced his head into a bowing posture.

Then, I snapped the clippers on and let the chattering teeth buzz close to his ear. I enjoyed letting him sit there, in awful suspense, head bowed low, dreading what was to come.

"Supposed to be warming up plenty, this week," I chatted casually, prolonging his wait. "A short crop will feel so much better than all this hair sprayed into place."

And then, with a quick thrust, I scooped off a massive wad of hair at this nape. The shiny brown mass sailed through the air and landed at my feet. I surveyed the damage and snickered. I could easily turn his exec coif into a low and tight....leave him with a shorter, professionally look. I scooped off another clump at the nape. The thick hair yielded to an awesome taper.

Naw....he needed a thorough scalping! His armor completely taken off and deposited at my feet.

I pushed the clippers tight up the back, all the way to the crown. Mounds of brown shiny hair slid down past his shoulders, right to the floor.

He shuddered as the teeth chewed away at his power helmet.

The shorn swath of stubble looked stark and bare, flanked by glossy, silken flows of hair.

"Is anything going to be left," he whimpered after a few more drives with the clippers cleared off the whole back.

"Not much, no. And the little that remains is going to be caked with butch wax. For a perfectly erect look," I said.

As I said the word 'erect' I noticed a visible stirring beneath the cape.

"Exciting, huh?" I asked.

"More like terrifying," he responded.

I decided to chop off his forelock with a scissors. Whack it off and drop it in his lap.

"Sit up," I urged him.

The back was clear of hair, but the sides and top still sported an abundant mane.

I combed everything forward and watched the forelock dangle past his eyes....copious and confident as the foundational part of his executive coif.

I snapped the shears open and shut a few times before seizing the forelock.

"Let's take this off," I commented as the eager shears moved closer and closer to the base of the cascade of hair.

A slight sawing sound quickly ended with a mighty THWACK! The lock was off! No turning back! I was taking him down...flat as a board.

The forelock hit the cape with an almost audible thump.

"OMG!" he gasped.

I snickered. "I'm so glad you chose this shop for your makeover. How surprised all your friends and colleagues will be to see you sporting a short flattop!"

"I've been trying to think how I'll explain it," he mumbled.

"You lawyers are good at that sort of thing," I noted as I took a comb and shears to the crown of hair and began lopping off all the length from the top. I loved watch the showers fall in all directions as it hit the cape and floor.

"How about a shoe?" I asked as I re-employed the clippers.

"My shoes? Cole Haan, that's the only brand I wear," he replied, putting his foot up to show off his shiny, pinch tassel loafer.

"I meant a horseshoe flattop. Everything shaved to the scalp except a slight rim of hair at the crown, like a tiara," I explained. "It's quite a manly look."

"Don't you think you've inflicted enough punishment for what I did?" he asked with a weary voice.

I continued the pause to the haircut.

"And, what exactly did you do?" I asked.

"I was selfish. I saw the sign and didn't care about you or your shop or your clients. I wanted it for myself and blew your needs off," he said in a plain, matter-of-fact tone.

"Did you think....oh, he's just a barber, a nobody....and I'm a lawyer, a big-shot?" I asked.

"Yes, I probably did," he admitted.

I watched his hand come out from under the cape and gently touch the lifeless forelock.

"Can I see how it looks at this stage?" he asked.

"Why not?" I replied as I swiveled the chair around.

He gasped at the damage that had already been inflicted -- the uneven chunks on top and the truncated forelock. Only the sophisticated sides with the hair swept back, brushing the top of his ear remained. But, not for long.

I snapped on the clippers went straight up through the sideburn and the temple. Off the vestiges of the sophisticated look came! Down to the cape the clump fell. I clipped all the hair off both sides in silence, wrenching his head this way and that.

He did seem contrite....

"You really do have great hair," I confessed, grasping a bit of the length on top that remained. "The type that looks good at any length."

He cracked a shy grin.

"I've been told that," he admitted meekly.

I was ready to start flattening the top. It would make a wonderful deep pile flat. I was beginning to soften my attitude towards the man in the chair... I could dangle the wonderful look of a deep pile flat in front of him before plowing through it and carving out a strip! Oh, yes...it would be fun to watch the shock register.

I wet the top a bit with the spritzer and then dried everything standing straight up. The length in some places reached to almost two inches.

"Now, keep you head very still," I said firmly.

Slowly, carefully....like a master sculptor, the flattening began. Snippets here and there like a summerish drizzle.

His smile broadened as progress on his flattop was made.

"I think I'm actually liking it," he confessed.

I beveled the sides a bit. It was masterful work of art! So thick, so flat, so perfect!

I showed off the back with a mirror, and then tilted it so that he could see the plush top from above.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "That is amazing!"

"Just a bit of evening things up," I said, getting ready to sabotage his happy ending to the parking snafu.

I imagined myself plowing right through the plush top and carving out a massive landing strip....

I came in with the chattering teeth. They were heading to just above the hairline. A whole inch would be stripped off the pelt.

His face clouded a bit.

Just then, the phone rang. It was Eddie, informing me he was stopping for some coffee and wouldn't arrive back for another 15 minutes. Was that all right?

As I chatted on the phone, I watched the caped man admiring his new flattop.

Perhaps I could have a new client who tipped well, I reasoned to myself. Let him leave the shop with the flattop as it was. He seemed pleased; he might come back regularly to get it tightened up.

"I think it's a bit too tall on top," I said aloud after hanging up the phone.

"Oh, I think it's...." the man interjected.

I snapped on the machine. End of discussion. I was going to take the top down -- just to remind him why he was in the chair!

But I let him off easy. In the end, I whittled off an eighth of an inch on top and skinned the sides. The top was still plush, but no so exaggerated. More for a middle-aged man than a young stud muffin.

"How is this?" I asked, ending my labor in transforming his executive coif into a tidy flattop. "I could take it shorter for a more manly, military look."

"No! This is fine. I like it just like this," he said, trying to convince me.

"No landing strip? Are you sure? You might like the feel of the clippers grazing the top of your head ever so slightly," I reasoned.

I saw a tiny surge of excitement pulsate quickly through his body.

"Perhaps in the future. But, this new look is already going to be a bit of a shock to my colleagues and family, I imagine," he replied.

"Right, but just a bit of lather on the sides and back. A clean smooth razor shave for a professional look. How's that?" I asked, beginning to massage in the warm foam.

"Oh, that feels wonderful!" he moaned with delight.

Then I began scraping away the stubble on the lower third. He savored every minute. The warm moist towel but him even more at ease as I gentle swabbed his newly exposed skin.

He was totally unprepared for my next move. A generous dash of witch hazel splashed on his scalp. He jumped in his chair!

"Yow," he yelped.

And with that I began removing the cape just as the tow truck arrived with his brother's Benz safe and sound.

"Since I'm a client here now, can I park in the space as I need...or just when getting a haircut here?" he asked.

"Well...." I prevaricated. "It's intended for clients in the shop."

He pulled out a one hundred dollar bill and handed it to me.

"I'm a great tipper," he said with a face that once again revealed he was accustomed to getting his way.

"So you'll be back?" I asked skeptically.

"What did you say...the clippers grazing the top of my head? For sure!" he laughed.

"If that space is open, it's yours, pal!" I said to end the stand-off.

Then, I added, "That is, after you get your first landing strip!"

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