Very bad decision. by Chovanec

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My name is Erik, in 1979 I was 16 years old and the word: I hated the barber.
After school we were supposed to go to the Nature Reserve for a whole week. But my father told me to go to the barber beforehand. I had nice, thick, long hair. I went to a modern barbershop for a very small cut. I always said to shorten it by a centimeter. Even if it was just a small cut, I avoided it. A week before going to the nature reserve with the school, my father wanted me to get my hair cut. I didn't do it, I hoped it would pass and I would have hair as long as I like.
My father told me on Thursday evening. Erik, on Monday you are going to the nature reserve with the school, so tomorrow I will go to your salon with you. I started to convince him that I would go alone, but my father said that he would go with me. That was a disaster for me. He will have my hair cut even 5 centimeters shorter, the hair at the back will only be up to the collar of my shirt and he will have my bangs cut above my eyes. My ears will be covered with hair.
That evening I decided that right after school I would go to my grandfather's village for the weekend. The train journey only took half an hour.
So after school I quickly went home, left a message: I'm at my grandfather's and will come on Sunday. I sat on the train and traveled to my grandfather's. In the evening the phone rang, my grandfather answered and said, yes Erik is with us. It was my father. Then he listened for a while and answered: Don't worry, everything will be fine and hung up the phone.
In the evening I fell asleep soundly and was glad that I had escaped the haircut with my father.
In the morning my grandfather woke me up around 8 o'clock and said that we were going to the center of the village together. I got up, had breakfast and was ready to go to the center of the village with my grandfather. I assumed we were going to buy groceries. We stopped at Morrison's Barber Shop. Grandpa said I should go in. Grandpa, but I go to a modern salon and this looks like an old-fashioned barber shop. Grandpa said it was the only barber shop for children and men in the village. Mr. Morrison also cut your father's hair. When we walked in, I was convinced that it was an old-fashioned barber shop with one barber. All the furniture in the barber shop was old and the air smelled of cigarettes mixed with perfume and hair cream. There were only 7 wooden waiting chairs in the barber shop. All the wooden chairs were occupied by old men. There were 5 boys in the barber shop waiting for their haircuts. I stood next to a group of boys and waited for my turn to ask the barber, just to cut their hair 1 centimeter shorter.
The boys looked at me in amazement, because they all had much shorter hair than me.
The first boy to sit in the barber's chair was about 10 years old. His older brother came to the barber and said something to him. The barber started cutting and the first hair of the boy started falling to the floor. When the boy was cut, the barber's office said: Thank you, Mr. Morrison. His brother, who was about 12 years old, sat in the chair. After the cut, both boys had about 25 millimeters of white arches above their ears and about 8 centimeters of shaved white nape above their shirt collar. Such short haircuts are very rare in our school.
I kept repeating my request in my mind: Mr. Morrison, please cut your hair about 1 centimeter shorter. I always came to my senses when the barber's office said: Thank you, Mr. Morrison. That's when the boy always left the barber's chair. I realized that all the boys had very similar haircuts.
The barber called out: Erik, it's your turn, go sit in Mr. Morrison's comfortable chair. There were 2 other boys standing next to me who came after me to get their hair cut. Grandpa said: This is my grandson. The chair was old-fashioned, but it was comfortable. The barber wrapped me in a sheet, tucked it behind his shirt collar. Mr. Morrison asked: how do we cut this boy's hair? I wanted to say my request, but my throat was stiff with fear. Only a gurgle came out of my throat. Grandpa said that I was going to nature for a week after school on Monday and I needed a decent little boy's haircut. I turned to my grandfather with reproach: I'm 16 years old, what kind of little boy?
The barber pushed my head forward, put electric scissors under my hair and went through the entire back of my head with them. More than 20 centimeters of hair started falling to the ground. He did the same on both sides of my head. The only long hair I still had was on the top of my head. But he soon cut that off too. About 6 centimeters of hair remained on the top of my head, which he started combing to the right side. On the sides I saw about 13 millimeters of hair. The barber took another pair of scissors and started cutting the back of my head, when he wanted to move to the side of my head, grandpa said, take it higher about 2 centimeters. The barber returned to the back of my head and I felt him remove short hair from me with the electric scissors. He moved to the side of my head, made 25 millimeters of arcs around the ears, but here too grandpa called out: Friend, take it higher and the barber fulfilled his request. The barber made a gradual transition from zero hair to longer hair on the top of my head. Then he applied white cream to the sides and back of my head, which he carefully scraped off.
After applying hair cream and cologne to the shaved parts of my head, my head was shiny. There was a great contrast between the shaved part and my sunburned face.
As I heard the previous boys leaving the barber's chair, I shouted too, but it was a shaky voice.: Thank you, Mr. Morrison. I saw Mr. Morrison sweep up my cut hair, hold it by the small shovel and throw it into the trash. I looked at them sadly
Grandpa was still talking to some old men and I had to fight off the gazes of my cut head. I tried to find out with my fingers how high I was cut at the back of my head. One of the boys who was watching me cut it noticed that Grandpa wanted my hair to be shorter than Mr. Morrison's. He approached me and said: You are here today as a punishment and not as a reward and smiled. Then he put his finger on the back of my head and said: Your head is shaved up to this finger. You have about 3/4 of the back of your head shaved and above your ears you have more than 4 centimeters of shaved arches. On the top of your head, your longest hair is about 6 centimeters.
Here our conversation ended and I saw Mr. Morrison start to cut the boy. He had a haircut similar to the boys I saw getting cut in this barbershop today. Before leaving the barbershop he said: Erik and come back for a haircut. Out of politeness I said: Yes Mr. Morrison, but I told myself, you will never see me here again.
I was very angry at the trick that Grandpa and Dad had played on me. I ended my visit to Grandpa early and traveled home. Grandpa said, that's what you get for running away from your father's order.
At school and in the neighborhood, I was now one of the boys with short hair.

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