How Short Is Too Short?

I think it may be time to find a new barbershop.

I mean, I do like the current place. It’s very close to campus. It’s cheap ($12). They recognize me and say hello. It’s an old, established place with a nice small-town feel.

But…

Although I managed to avoid the old guy today (who knows no other hairstyle than “The Marine”), the lady I did get paid not much heed to my pleas of “I’d rather it not be very short.”

“Just a trim?” she said.

“Yes, indeed,” I said, thinking that I had properly conveyed the lack-of-shortness that I keenly desired.

Instead, although I avoided “The Marine,” I believe I ended up with something approximating “The National Guard.” It’s way too short. As always.

And that’s not the only problem. There’s also the whole weird haircutter selection process.

You walk in and all of the available employees shuffle over to their chairs with their eyes cast downward. You are then to select just one haircutter in a process that feels… uncomfortable. It’s like something between picking just one puppy to spare from imminent destruction at the Humane Society and choosing a nighttime companion in some sleazy European red-light district. It always makes me all awkward and stammery.

So I think I need a new place. Although this may be one of those things where I think about finding a new place but end up never deciding on a new place and instead just deal with ultra-short hair once every five-ish weeks. We’ll see.