My First Haircut from Jana
Sadly, I happen to be one of those people who do not handle change very well. From the day I was old enough to peddle my own bicycle, I have been going over to the same barbershop to get my hair cut. Somewhere along the line (at least 15 years ago) one of the barbers there (his name is Tom) gave me what I considered to be the perfect haircut, and from that day on, I have let no other person with scissors in their hand touch my hair.
Unfortunately, a few months ago, Tom became seriously ill, and it may be quite awhile before he is able to return to work. With that in mind, and fully aware that I could wait no longer to get a haircut, I drove over to a place called Hair Expressions (even the name scared me), and I reluctantly pushed open the front door, and bravely stepped into the unknown.
"Well," I mumbled, "I was thinking about getting a haircut."
"Do you have an appointment?" she asked.
"No," I sighed in relief, "but thanks anyway."
"That's okay," she said as I began to head out the door, "I think Jana is free."
She cheerfully led me back to what looked to be a barber's chair (although it was nothing like the big, sturdy ones that I was used to).
The first thing I noticed when I sat down was that my chair was turned in the wrong direction, towards my own nervous reflection. I looked all around me, and sure enough, everyone's chair was turned the wrong way. Great, I thought to myself, now I'm going to have to sit here and stare at myself in a huge mirror for an hour.
"Hi, my name is Jana," came a sweet voice from behind me. I looked into the mirror, and I could tell by the welcoming, friendly expression on her face that I was actually going to have to interact with somebody who was cutting my hair.
You see, when I sit down in Tom's chair, he says, "The usual?", and I nod my head, yes, and that's that. We don’t say another word to each other until the haircut is over, unless something really weird is going on with the weather.
"So, have you got your Christmas tree yet?" asked Jana with a pleasant smile.
I started to panic. Then she began to run her fingers through my hair (in a very professional way, of course), but if she hadn't already tightened an apron snugly around my neck, I'm sure I would have found an excuse to bolt out of her chair.
Anyway, for the next 30 minutes or so I watched nervously as Jana whacked off huge chunks of my hair (I'd never actually seen my hair being cut before) and answered as best I could every question which came my way.
Much to my surprise, what started out as a very trying ordeal turned out to be a rather enjoyable experience. I received a wonderful haircut and I even ended up asking Jana a few questions myself, including, "Why do you wear cowboy boots to a job where you have to stand on your feet all day long?"
Funny, but in 15-plus years, I don't think I've ever once asked Tom about his choice of footwear.
