I’ve always wondered what it takes to get a barber to talk to me. There’s something about me that clams a barber up. I sit there in the plastic waiting throne and watch the barbers all talk to their customers, chatting about weekends and about hairstyles and about their lives. It feels intimate and fun at the same time. Both pass the awkward time and leave the premises with enriched lives. I sit down on the cutting throne and the barber asks what I want. I tell them and away they go. In silence.
Why won’t they talk to me?
I wondered if I was the one meant to initiate the conversation. I’ve been to a lot of barbers in my time and felt the same thing happen. Recently, I’ve moved to a place which has a barber’s on the corner. They wave at me every time I walk past now. This means I can change the pattern.
Except, today, I went into the barber’s, thinking, I am Mr Banter – I am the guy. I am going to make this happen. The barber pointed at the chair and I went to sit down. He said he was going to the toilet. Thinking I could lead with something funny to show what a guy I am, I said, ‘Remember to wash your hands,’ and smiled. He looked at me like I was an idiot, a disgusting idiothole for even pretending to suggest he was anything other than hygienic in work-based toilet situations. I smiled and when he returned from the toilet, he washed his hands in front of me a bit vigorously, as if to say, LOOK, I AM WASHING MY HANDS. OK DICKHEAD?
I let him drape me in the cutting cloth and rubber cutting weight, informed him of my style of choice, watched his face in the mirror to see if he thought I could pull it off or not and let him get on with it. I then asked, ‘So… good weekend?’
He stopped and looked at me, sizing up the banter cloud that was before him – could I deliver? would I be funny? Do I know anything about football? He said, ‘Yeah it was great, except Sunday when we scattered my girlfriend’s dad’s ashes.’ Oh, I thought, that’s a downer. How do I lead on from that? He’s presented me with a quandary? Do I rise to the challenge? Do I say, hey man, I’m so sorry – or something like way-hey, shoulda snorted the guy or something like that. No, you’re sensitive in those situations. Even if all these years you’ve been trying to break the glass ceiling of barber silence by initiating conversation and that’s what you’re given, so I replied with… ‘Well, we scattered my mum’s ashes in India last year. Bet it was a bit warmer…’
The rest of my haircut was in silence.
I bought some clippers on the way home. Maybe I’ll do my own hair from now on.
