haircut
I went to get my hair cut tonight at a new place, down the street. There was a form with a queue of names, and mine was the last of the night. I provided a false phone number.
I could be a barber. The woman who cut my hair was talkative, and lively. She was unabashed, politically incorrect, and asked me all manner of questions about my work, my parents, and on the subject of age.
She impressed on me how many different stories she hears, how many people she connects with, just cutting hair. She knew that Castro street in Mountain View had a night life even on Sundays - the bars and restaurants and bookstores are open until 11. She spoke of wisdom that comes with age, and I believed her when she implied she had it.
She's 47 years old, but she's so young.
I always overtip when I get my hair cut; my bonus to her was no different. I feel like if someone is going to make it their business to get all up in your hair, they deserve a little extra money. Plus, I had such a good time. She made me laugh.
Apparently the false phone number I provided belonged to a Sergio from 2003. Her coworker had entered my information into a database. Naturally, I was able to bluff my way through the conversation and get him to believe that the number was really mine. But next time I go, I may just put down my real digits. I want her to cut my hair again.
She works on Monday nights.
I could be a barber. The woman who cut my hair was talkative, and lively. She was unabashed, politically incorrect, and asked me all manner of questions about my work, my parents, and on the subject of age.
She impressed on me how many different stories she hears, how many people she connects with, just cutting hair. She knew that Castro street in Mountain View had a night life even on Sundays - the bars and restaurants and bookstores are open until 11. She spoke of wisdom that comes with age, and I believed her when she implied she had it.
She's 47 years old, but she's so young.
I always overtip when I get my hair cut; my bonus to her was no different. I feel like if someone is going to make it their business to get all up in your hair, they deserve a little extra money. Plus, I had such a good time. She made me laugh.
Apparently the false phone number I provided belonged to a Sergio from 2003. Her coworker had entered my information into a database. Naturally, I was able to bluff my way through the conversation and get him to believe that the number was really mine. But next time I go, I may just put down my real digits. I want her to cut my hair again.
She works on Monday nights.