I have an interesting relationship with my barber. We don't talk. Well, usually.
Yesterday I was in Doha for 10 hours or so settling a lease, paying bills, etc. Just basically running errands. My hair has been a little out of control as it tends to do when Genny isn't around. Ask her about my beard situation. At noon, on my way to the office to pick up my mail, I stopped in at the barber shop.
My usual procedure is quite simple:
- Wake up barber. He's usually asleep and I have an odd feeling that he doesn't have more than a few customers. I've never seen any.
- Sit in chair
- Allow him to cut as he sees fit.
- Pay the 10 riyal ($3)
- Leave
Now the middle part of that list is the one where most people have long conversations about daytime events, gossip, and other non-important discussions. As my barber only speaks Malayalam (language of Kerala, India), and I don't understand a word of it, I don't even bother. I don't think he knows I speak English as I usually am completely silent. He probably assumes that I'm this weird Indian guy who can't speak to him.
Anyhow, he does a good job (ok for me) and basically trims each hair shorter. There's no changing my haircut or trying something new as we haven't crossed the language barrier or known enough similar words to make it happen.
But yesterday I decided to say my first word to him: "Gel"
I had a flight later that day and don't have a place to shower before catching my flight. So hair-goop it is. I took a smudgeon and put it on and was walking out the door. He ran over to me and sat me down in the chair.
It was then that he applied what must have been half of the tub of gel into my head. He then decided that the "Ditka" look was the one for me and combed my hair straight back.
I should stick to not talking to my barber.
Owner login
