| rev:text
| - Let me just start out by saying that I loathe to call this place a barber shop.
It was Sunday. I had my kids all weekend, and I had grabbed a few hours while they spent time with my parents to rush out and get a haircut.
The place I normally go was in Mesa, and that was too far a drive. Other barber shops I had been to in the past had no Sunday hours. I happened to remember a relatively new shop that had opened up.
It started of normally, it looked and smelled like a barber shop. No biggie. Two barbers were working, and it was taking quite a long time (well over an hour) for them to finish up with the people they were working on.
This sums up my first impression really - It looks like a good barber shop. They appear to be spending a lot of time on their customers haircuts, which must mean they care about quality work. I could come back here.
This impression was shattered the moment I sat in the chair. I should have known when he casually tossed the black death shroud over me that I was no longer at at barber shop, but at a funeral parlor for my hair.
So what do you want today? He casually asked.
I explained that I was trying to grow my hair out, so I just needed a trim.
So started the electric razor with its familiar hum, then I was reminded of a scene from Star Wars.
"I felt a great disturbance in the Force, as if millions of voices suddenly cried out in terror and were suddenly silenced."
The voices that were screaming must have been my hair because what happened over the next 20 minutes left me speechless. It started out like normal, and then something went horribly wrong. I had not seen my hair yet, but I could tell just by the way he was cutting.
What the hell happened to the experienced barber that was beautifully sculpting a short haircut not just 5 minutes prior to me sitting down? I know, as barbers go, it takes more skill to do a short cut then it does to do a long cut. I am a complete pain in the butt when it comes to my standard haircut.
In the end, after checking my hair twice, I actually told him it was fine just so I could escape any more damage.
When I picked up the kids, I knew it was bad.
My mother looked right at me and said "What the hell is that?"
My dad said "I have seen you with a lot of haircuts since you were a kid, and this is by far the absolute worst haircut I have ever seen."
You know its bad when your mom makes you sit down and she grabs a pair of scissors to fix it, and actually makes it look BETTER.
I will not be going back, and I would suggest that you dont either.
Trust me. Your hair will thank us both.
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