If I may be permitted to vent for a moment, I just received the worst treatment I’ve ever received from a barbershop–namely the The Haircut in the Stanford Shopping Center.
Once I sat in the barber’s chair everything was out of my control–my hair was not cut as I asked, my head was manhandled as though I were a fidgety three‐year‐old child, and at the end the protective drape was ripped off my body and an industrial‐strength blowdrier was run over me to remove any loose hair.
They never even asked me if I was happy with my haircut. I had to remain seated and ask if I could look in a mirror to see the results!
I still have stray hairs prickling my skin as I type this.