The Cut of a Lifetime by A Recruit

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It had been a long and difficult meeting. Tempers had become strained, but we had to reach a resolution to the budget deficit today. We decided to take a break for a few minutes to get some coffee, some of the guys around the table sped off outside for a quick cigarette to ease their stress, while I headed for the toilets, regretting the second can of soda I’d drunk at lunch.

As I washed my hands, I glanced up at my reflection in the mirror above the sink, and after a second take, tried to tidy my hair with my hands. I guessed that I had been running my fingers through my hair causing it to spring out in all directions. Although whilst shaving this morning I’d not even considered the need for a haircut, it was now mid afternoon, and I was in desperate need of a barber.

I returned to the meeting, unable to concentrate on anything other than my hair. The meeting rambled on, and on, but as 5pm neared a compromise emerged, and once agreed, I shot out of the building for my car.

I drove to my home town as quickly as I could, but was frequently frustrated by the busy rush hour traffic jams. Each time the car stopped I would study my hair in the rear view mirror, horrified that I had let it get so out of hand, so quickly.

By now it was starting to get dark, the 6pm news was on the radio, time was tight, I knew that my usual barber shop would close at 6.30pm.

As I drove into my home town, I was relieved to see the light of the barber shop still on, and even happier to see the large boards on the sidewalk announcing ‘Haircut Sir? - We’re open.’

I hurriedly parked the car in the adjoining alley, and almost sprinted the short distance into the shop, putting my hand on the shop door as the town clock chimed the half hour. I’d made it.

Inside the shop was the same as it always was, though I was surprised to see both of the shop’s chairs occupied so late in the day. I sat down to wait for Dave my usual barber. As I reached for a newspaper, the shop door opened once more and in walked two teenage lads. One casually dressed in jeans and trainers, his hair a scruffy overgrown crew-cut, and the other wearing a smart navy blue suit, white shirt and silk tie, his hair much longer, tied back into a severe ponytail. They took up adjacent seats, and sat in silence.

I glanced at the two guys in the chairs, Dave had just started on a young boy with a mop of bushy hair, that he was desperately trying to comb into a reasonable looking style.

Mike, the barber at the other chair, appeared to be close to finishing a sharp taper on a guy in his late twenties, and the cape was covered in small tufts of the guys hair. In seconds Mike was loosening the grey cape from his customer’s neck.

The chair sat empty, the red vinyl cushioning contrasting to the ageing chrome metal work in which it was enveloped. I always hated it when this happened to me, I always had Dave cut my hair, Mike cut hair perfectly well but too my mind he rushed, Dave was much more precise and consequently slower.

I looked across at the two lads waiting patiently beside me, and catching eye contact with the guy in the suit, I wave my hand toward the empty chair. He looked toward the chair, paused, then rose to his feet. A final grin of appreciation of his shortened waiting time followed, and he settled into the chair. Mike, meanwhile had disappeared out into the back of the shop for a moment.

I turned my attention to the other chair, carefully monitoring the painfully slow progress Dave was making with the boy’s hair. The cape was laden with a significant number of hair lengths, but judging by the unruly mop that remained the cutting would need to continue for a while longer.

Mike returned and soon had his next customer secured under the grey cape. The lad grabbed at his ponytail and removed the black ribbon that secured it in place, he shook his head causing the long strands to hang over the cape, the golden blonde hair shining out against the dull grey cape.

Mike was a relatively young barber, in his late twenties, he was reasonably good looking, though having worked in the shop since he was sixteen, had developed something of a haunch as he stood over each head sat in his chair. He was polite and sincere, the father of two young sons, who could sometimes be found playing in the shop.

‘Yes, sir?’ he asked, already poised with his comb.

At first the lad seem reluctant to speak, perhaps with hair that length he wasn’t too familiar with the barbershop procedure. Trouble was if he was waiting for Mike to suggest a style for him, he’d come to the wrong place.

The silence was soon broken. ‘I’ve just been for a job interview, for a lifeguard at the town swimming baths. They told me the job was mine, as long as I was prepared to get a sensible haircut. They reckon my hair could get caught in the filtering equipment or something.’

‘What they told you, you had to get a haircut.’ said Mike in amazement.

‘Well, not exactly, they did say if I preferred I could wear a bathing cap all day.’ but I figure that would be particularly humiliating.’, was the brave reply.

‘I’ve not seen you in here before.’ Mike stated, obviously as he began studying the heavy mass of hair ‘One sensible haircut coming up.’

‘Yeah, me and my brother over there have just moved here.’ he replied, and the conversation came to an abrupt end, with a nod of the lads head.

Mike reached for his scissors, and the lad flinched as he heard the squelch of thick clumps of hair meeting the scissor blades, a little pressure applied, and the resultant crisp snip, signalling the act of severance was complete.

Mike suffered no nonsense, and didn’t give the young lad any chance to react further to his act of destruction, with breathtaking speed and determination he walloped off all the long locks of hair to the middle of his neck, a couple of inches below the lobes of his ears. All this was achieved in under thirty seconds, leaving a somewhat trendy looking surfer’s haircut in place of the beautifully tended and groomed ponytail that had entered the shop minutes earlier.

I sat back admiring the lads transformation, thinking back over the haircuts I had experimented with as a youth, all in this very same shop. Indeed some of them from Mike himself.

I started to worry that the lads haircut was almost complete, and yet again I would have to decline my place in the queue, it was always so embarrassing rejecting Mike this way, though he never seemed to bear any malice.

As Mike paused for a moment, I watched as the lad studied his shorter hair, gently twisting his head to one side to try and see the full effect, but trying not to appear too inquisitive. Then panic struck in his eyes as he heard a pair of electric clippers start up. His head swung round, but the terror was short lived as he watched Dave begin removing the mountain of curls his young customer wore down over his collar. Dave worked slowly and methodically, each sweep of the clippers exact and controlled, the haircut was taking shape now, but still had a fair way to go.

The tension drained from the lad’s body, he’d clearly thought those clippers had been destined for him, I felt sorry for him now, for I could see that Mike was already reaching for his set of clippers, he still had further plans for this haircut.

Mike pushed the lads head forward, and the lad kept the position, several strands of hair tumbled forward down over his face. Instantly Mike attacked the six inch locks of hair hanging over the lad’s collar, steadily revealing columns of pink skin below.

I glanced at the lad’s brother who looked as surprised as I felt, though no less enthralled. It appeared that lad in the chair was blissfully unaware of the display in which he had been cast the starring role, at that moment it appeared that he thought the barber was just straightening the edges of the rough cut he had just endured.

The ignorance did not remain for long, as Mike pushed the lad’s head to one side, to tackle the first side almost all of the cut hair tumbled from the clippers and the lads shoulders , down over the cape into the lad’s lap. It lay directly in his eye line, the secret was out.

I watched closely for a reaction, but Mike had already switched sides and was now running the clippers over the other side of the lad’s head, his position obscuring my view. As the shorn head emerged back into my line of vision, the lad’s head was again raised staring at his reflection in the mirror, motionless.

I glanced at Dave who appeared to a have just reached a similar stage in the haircut he was giving, but unlike Dave, Mike saw no reason for procrastination, and had already begun snipping away fistfuls of hair from the top of the lads head.

The snipping seemed to last forever, but probably lasted for only a few minutes, when it stopped with the lad forfeiting the long fringe, which Mike neatly combed down over his face, almost reaching his chin. One, two, three swipes of the scissors reduced it to a matching length, way up on the lad’s freshly exposed forehead.

Mike resorted to clippers once more and working more carefully now, though no slower smartened up the blend of inch long hair on top to a near skin taper at the hairline.

Dave meanwhile was just finishing up the boy’s hair he had labored over for so long, he seemed happy as he combed it through one last time, it certainly was smart, hardly any evidence of the curls the boy had been wearing when he’d entered the shop could be seen. except for on the floor.

Both barbers reached for hand mirrors at the same time, and displayed their work to their clients. The boy seem disinterested, which disappointed Dave somewhat, whilst the shorn lad just stared in disbelief at the view of the back of his head. He smiled sheepishly, completely self -conscious , willing the barber to release him from this ordeal. Mike, never being one to hold proceedings up, pulled the cape from around him spilling the remaining excess of hair onto the floor, extended his hand to take the money proffered and as the lad slunk back to his chair mortally wounded, and Mike was already waiting for a new client.

After some hesitation, the other lad rose to his feet, unsure at first whether I was still waiting for Dave’s chair. To be honest after having watched the spectacular haircut he had just given I was tempted, The way I felt about my hair at the moment I would gladly see it fall to rest on top of the lads mass of blonde hair.

The lad took the seat, and was quickly shrouded in the same grey cape.

At last the boy was leaving the shop, and I shot into Dave’s chair without hesitation and sat contemplating my hairstyle in the light of the two extremely smart haircuts I had just seen created in front of me. All afternoon something had been nagging within me about my hair, and as I studied to untidy grown out style I was relieved that soon it would be dealt with.

As Dave tucked a paper tissue over my shirt collar, and draped his sheet around me, I sneaked a glance at the lad in Mike’s chair, aware of the sound of buzzing clippers already working, in time to see a bundle of hair fall from around the lad’s ear, leaving perhaps a quarter inch of stubble in place.

A further glance in the mirror at the lad in the suit, now looking sharp and dapper, and my inhibitions drained away.

‘Usual? Four at the back.’ muttered Dave, as he combed my hair, patting it down as it sprang immediately back out of shape.

‘No, can I try it shorter, a number two?’ I replied, speaking quickly in excited anticipation. Hanging my head forward already eager to feel the clippers against my scalp. The whirring started almost immediately and the sound grew louder and louder.

The next time I looked at myself was to watch my prided sideburns disappear to the floor, yes this had been a good decision, I was already looking like the lad sitting behind me and felt great.

As Dave picked up his scissors to trim the top, Mike had finished for the day, and another smart haircut was preparing to leave. I hoped I would look as good when it was my turn to leave in a few minutes time.

Mike began sweeping the floor, and minutes later I was done, I knew I loved the look, even before the mirror was held for me to appreciate the full extent of the cut, I knew that this was how it was going to stay, and I also knew that it wouldn’t belong until my hair irritated me so much that I just had to get it cut. I had rekindled the wonderful feeling I’d experienced in my late teens when I too had been brave enough to lose my ponytail all in one sitting.

I guessed the two lads felt the same, and would carry their experience with them for many year to come.

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