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I scheduled a haircut tonight at 22:00 (and i brought his semi-annual bottle of wine; in this case, it was a bottle of 2000 d'Arry's Original). By the time i left, there were three other men waiting for their haircut. My barber lives in Morgan Hill, a 30-minute drive to the south; he said he goes to sleep around 01:30, and gets up at 04:00 and goes back to work. He has someone scheduled for tomorrow (xmas eve, mind you) at 05:30, and he said he'd work until about 18:00. And he's well off, so he's not doing this for the money... he just loves cutting hair. And he does a good job.
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Date: 2003-12-24 01:18 am (UTC)But yeah, he's nuts to work like he does, such crazy hours. And yet, he's the happiest rich person I've ever met.
And such a nice guy.
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Date: 2003-12-24 05:56 am (UTC)The lady I got was more than a bit preoccupied; her kid was sick, and she was waiting for an opening to dart to the phone and check his temperature. (Okay, son, stick the phone under your tongue and wait for two minutes...)
This did not bode well for my haircut experience. When she was removing the sideburns (which grow like weeds), she whacked not one but BOTH ears with the clippers, making me yelp both times. After the second time, she looked at me and said "You have sensitive ears" with a straight face.
I said "Well, yes, when they're being _whacked with a metal object_," and that seemed to break through her mental haze momentarily.
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Date: 2003-12-24 07:31 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-24 09:19 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2003-12-24 09:28 am (UTC)