The first cut is the deepest. by Lightie

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This is true story from a small town in South Africa in the 80s. I was just about to start school and after buying my uniform etc I went for a haircut with my mum. There was not a traditional barbershop in the town just a unisex shop run by a lady called Anne who was a trained hairdresser her husband Ernest used to hang around the shop and he did the clipper cuts for boys and men who had short hair. The other option was men who had a set of clippers at home and seemed always ready to give a haircut for anyone who wanted one they were known as haircut oops or haircut uncles in English.

Any way I went into the unisex shop with my mum for the first time it looked more like a ladies shop and had normal chairs facing a large mirror. My mum spoke to Anne and said she wanted a haircut for me.Anne told her to take a seat Ernest would be with us shortly. We sat in the waiting area and I sat down and picked a magazine to look at the pics. This was my first time getting a haircut in this shop and up and until that time I got a haircut from my mum occasionally and in the big city we had previously lived in I had gone with my dad to the barbershop.

School rules in South Africa was boys hair should be short and neat which was open to interpretation but to lots of parents that mean a short brush cut which was the name for a crew cut one length all over and some parents would ask for the bottom of the sides and back to be cut shorter. My parents were not particularly fussed as long as it was neat. But at the time my hair was quite long probably as long as its ever being.

After a few minutes I heard footsteps and in walked Ernest he was an average looking man who wore glasses and had longish hair about 2 inches long that had a curl to it.

He looked at us and then walked to his chair and said next I stood up and walked to his chair. By the time we got there he had a dark green nylon Cape in his hand and as soon as I sat down he caped me tighter than I thought was necessary. He then picked a comb and combed my hair out and then stepped in front of me and picked a black and white pair of Wahl clippers that all barbers used in South Africa he picked an attachment from a draw looked at the back thought about it and put it back and picked up another one.
He stepped to my right side and he turned on the clippers which started with a loud pop before settling into a steady humm.
He placed the clipper at my hairline and slowly but firmly swiped it up the tone of the clippers changed as it made contact with my hair when he reached the temple he flicked his wrist sending a large clump of hair slowly drifting down onto the Cape and it slowly rolled onto my lap. I was shocked to see how little hair was left on the strip he just cut. I turned my head to the side to see how short it was and he turned my hair back and said sit still in a firm voice not shouting but I got the message. He began the next swipe and the next same result the short short left behind contrasted with all the long hair that had still not being cut. He then bent my ear down again harder then I thought was necessary and swiped the clipper above it.
He then clippered the back and the left side.
After he finished the sides and back he stepped back to my right side and put the clipper on my forehead and swiped from forehead to crown. When I seen how short my hair was on the top I was absolutely stunned and he noticed the shock on my face in the mirror but he didn't say anything he just continued till all my hair was left in a short short brush cut.

He took the attachment off and cleaned up the edges. I didn't recognise myself in the mirror just someone with a super short haircut. He took the Cape off with a swoosh and there was what seemed like a mountain of hair on the floor. I then realised that he did not ask me or my mum how we wanted my haircut.
As we walked back towards the waiting area I expected my mum to say it was too short but she just thanked him and paid.
When I got into the car I looked at my hair in the mirror and rubbed my hair with my hand as if to confirm it really was that short.
At that point I realised I hated my haircut I hated the clippers and I was no fan or Ernest.
This is the true story of my first of many cuts from Ernest and unfortunately not my worst as he seemed to notice I didn't like haircuts and even taunted me. I will write more about those cuts.

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