do it the same way by Storyteller.

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INTRODUCTION: This is another of my fictional stories about haircuts that could have happened to me during my childhood and adolescence. This time I decided to put together a hypothetical situation with myself associating it with the barber in the real story I recently wrote, or his absence at a given moment.

The story:
During my childhood and adolescence, in the 70s and early 80s, I got the right to have my hair long, according to the fashion for boys at the time, I was very afraid of looking ridiculous if I had short hair and being mocked by classmates at school, which would actually happen, especially if hair was very short.

My straight, brown hair, at the time of this story, was reaching my shoulders, my large ears were completely covered, and my bangs, if I didn't comb them to the side, would go past my nose.

When a barber with long hair started working at the barbershop in the neighborhood where I lived, I, like most of the boys in the area, started cutting with him, as I was confident that he would not give an old-fashioned, short haircut.

I was a respectful and obedient boy, so when my father said it was time for a haircut, I took the money and went to the barbershop. The barbershop was the only one in the neighborhood, traditional, it had several barber chairs, and one of them belonged to the barber who cut my hair.

It is important to describe that, at that time, modernization works were taking place in the city's public transport and, as a result, traffic was very bad, damaging commerce and establishments in the neighborhood.

Arriving at the barbershop, and opening the door, I was surprised when I saw that the barber chairs were empty, there were no customers waiting and the barbers weren't there, and, most importantly, the long-haired barber wasn't there either.

There was only one man, who must have been over 60 years old, buzzed MPB, with a mustache, in an old barber's uniform, he seemed to be a simple man, and I had never seen him there before.

He noticed my surprise and said:
-Good morning, boy, how are you?
-Good morning, Sir, I’m good, how are you?
-I'm fine, son, you seem a little surprised.
-Yes, Sir, where are the barbers who worked here? Why is it so empty?
-Ah, yes, with all these changes in traffic the clientele decreased and the barbers who worked here all went to a barbershop downtown.
-And you, Sir?
-Well, I live around here and had a barbershop in a distant area, and as the rent here become low, I decided to try to establish my services here, close to home.
-Ah, that's good, and have you had any customers?

The barber noticed that I was a polite boy who liked a conversation. He smiled at me, and said:
-Unfortunately, not. It seems that the people here still don't trust my services, and they were already used to other barbers.

I extended my hand and said:
-Oh, Sir, what a shame, but don't give up. Everything will get better.

The barber smiled, gently rubbed my head and said:
-Yes, son, God willing, thank you for your words. But then, tell me, did you have a favorite barber here?
-Yes, Sir, I did.
-Ah, so, do you want the address of the barbershop downtown?

I thought the barber was very nice for saying that, instead of offering first to cut my hair, and, thinking about how he was trying to get new customers, I thought of something convincing to say that I would cut with him, other than out of compassion:
-No, Sir, my parents don't let me go to downtown by myself, can I be your client?

He smiled and said:
-Of course, son, let's go to the chair.

I went to the chair he indicated and said:
-Ah, that's cool, it's the same chair that my barber used.

I sat in the chair, the barber put a cape around me, closing it tightly. I realized it wasn't the same one the other barber used, it looked simpler.
He took a comb, started combing my hair, praised that it was clean and well cared for, and said that he imagined that because he saw that I was a polite and orderly boy. I thanked him and smiled.

He then said:
-What cut do you want, son?
-Oh, Sir, I don't know the name of the cut. The first time I came here, I told the barber to cut it the way he thought was best and since then I've always said, 'do it the same way'.
-Hmm, I understand. And, with me, would you like me to choose the cut that I think is best?

That left me not knowing what to say, I didn't know that barber, no one had told me about him, the other one served all my friends, and I knew the cuts he made. But I found that gentleman so nice that the only thing I could say was:
-Yes Sir!

He smiled and said:
-So, let's go.

I was smiling, but wondering what the cut would be. He didn't even seem to be worried about what I would think of the cut, because he started to start a conversation with me, asking how long I had lived in the neighborhood, where I studied, and stuff like that, while he was handling his equipment.

I also noticed that he worked differently than the other barber, because he turned the chair so that it was facing away from the mirror, so I saw the empty barbershop in front of me.

So, he held my head steady, put clippers under my bangs, turned them on, and started running it over the top of my head. I was scared, I felt the vibration, the blade touching my head, the noise, things I had never seen or felt before.

He said:
-I'm sure you'll really like this cut I chose for you, which I used to do for my old clients.

I, nervous, but without wanting to sadden him said:
-Ah, of course, yes, Sir.

I only saw huge chunks of my hair falling out. I had no idea how much, but I knew my hair was being cut short. And he continued running clippers all over my head.

He then rubbed my entire head, in the areas where the clippers had already been used, and I felt a shiver run down my spine, because I realized that the cut must be very short, by the way I felt his hand touching my head.

He started to apply the clippers to the area around my right ear, he moved the ear, which was huge and never got the sun, away with one finger and started using the clippers. He smiled and said:
-What a huge ear, huh, son?

I was completely embarrassed and just gave a shy smile.

He did the same work on the other side, on the other ear.

He then turned off the clippers for a bit, but only to change the blade he was using. He turned them on again and began to run it all over the back and sides, right up to the crown, almost to the top. I noticed that the sensation was totally different now that he was running it over the area of already cut hair.

He turned off the clippers, turned the chair to face the mirror and said:
-Okay, son, a cut that I think is cool, practical, all done with clippers #1 on top and #00000 on the rest.
Meanwhile he ran his hand all over my head.

I had to control myself a lot not to make an expression of despair when I saw the image of that boy with almost shaved hair, completely out of fashion at the time, looking back at me in the mirror. I controlled myself, smiled and said:
-Thank you very much, Sir, it is really cool.

He took a hard duster brush and went all over my head, especially around my ears. Then he shook the cape well, took it off and said:
-It's ready, son, you can get off the chair.

I went down, asked for the price, which I thought was much cheaper than the previous barber, paid, looked at the floor full of hair, and said:
-Would you like me to sweep the floor for you, Sir?

He smiled and said:
-I don't ask this of my clients, but since you're such a polite boy and offered yourself, I'll accept.

He showed me where he had a broom and I started to sweep up all the hair that had just been on my head. Meanwhile he was praising me, saying what a good boy I was and that he was very happy that I was his first client.

-I'm sure you'll soon have many customers, you're a very good man and a great barber. I will say this to everyone; I said, even though I knew my new haircut wouldn't be very convincing to my friends.
-Thank you very much, son, I hope to see you here in my barbershop again soon.
-Yes, Sir, of course.

I said goodbye and went back home. My father saw me and got scared:
-Hey, son, what happened?
-Dad, did you know that all the barbers from the neighborhood barbershop left for a pace downtown? Now there's just one different barber there. He is a very nice gentleman. His cut is much cheaper.
-Okay, okay, but what about this cut? I thought you only wanted to wear long hair.
I thought a little, and I imagined that if I said that the cut had been barber’s choice, without consulting, it would make my father have a bad impression and he wouldn't talk well of the barber to others, and I said:
-Ah, dad, I was tired of my long hair, and I had already decided that I wanted a very short cut.
-Congratulations, son, I really liked it, I hope you keep this cut, and if it's so much cheaper, you can get it done more often.

As I was very obedient, I said: -Yes, Sir; and lowered my head.

At school, I was the target of a lot of mockery, nicknames, and they kept flicking my head, but I put up with it all. And I told everyone about the barber, always saying that he was very good, and cheap, and he did other cuts too.

Over time, my father started going to the barbershop, as did several colleagues and residents of the neighborhood, each one getting cuts in their own style, as they preferred.

As for me, I went back there often as my father told me to and always said: "do it the same way".

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