![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLN7LEOHB4PmcowdiHu76o00rk1mcQqnRvJ9j1sP3lbgLnoSOC6R0lpbO4nUQKPkYddwOvUvAgEL9_0ILTOkntppd57HbB7KWnziAL551n7IVLzCk7_E_VguNZvvxg2p1hgsk8gVdSkBn_/s320/David_Beckham_Hair_9345.jpg)
I’ll qualify this statement first. Getting haircuts in Korea was actually quite pleasant. Sure, the staff at the salon would jockey to try and avoid cutting my hair cos they figured that I wouldn’t speak any Korean and that would make it awkward but eventually the poor unfortunate would be chosen and they’d get the job done. They were always efficient and accurate and they could follow my simple instruction: “베컴 머리를 주세요.” I don’t care what shitty Google translate tells you, that basically means, “please give me Beckham hair” (referring to the iconic faux-hawk) and that is what they’d do. We’d make small talk in Korean (read: I’d do my best to practice/flirt) and I’d get a great haircut from a pretty woman for a laughably cheap price.
All of this begs the question, why is getting my haircut in New Zealand so damn unpleasant? Let’s start with the store atmosphere. Why the fuck are you playing Gin Wigmore? Why are The Cardinals (her backing band) such suckers for punishment? I thought working with Ryan bloody Adams would be insufferable enough. Wah wah wah, New York street corners, roses, drugs, girls I used to know, girls called Rose I used to know, Mandy freaking Moore, wah wah wah. That’s Ryan but at least when he got it right (note the past tense) he was world class. What the fuck does Gin fucking Wigmore offer? My ears aren’t cheese so there’s no reason to be so grating. At least in Korea the music was excruciating in a language I couldn't understand.
Then again, I should’ve known the interior would be as tasteless as the sign on your exterior. Why is it hairdressers cannot resist
pigeonholing themselves with vocational puns in the names of their stores? Here are some excruciating examples:
-Hair's to you!
-Hairport Salon
-Headquarters
-Getting Ahead
-British Hairways
-Shear Excitement
-Fringe Benefits
-Comb One Comb All
-Locks of Fun
-Mane Man
-Julius Scissor
-Barber Blacksheep
-The Brady Scrunch
-Curl Up and Dye
Really, the first cut is the cheapest? Shoot me now.
Secondly, my aforementioned faux hawk is a pretty straightforward style. Beckham had one which meant half of the All Blacks had one which means every male in New Zealand has had one or thought about having one. Every hairdresser in the country must have styled one before so how come when I ask for “short on the sides, a bit longer on top and at the back” I get a blank stare? Why do you want to know what setting the razor should be on and what style of scissor technique to use? Why can’t I just say “make my hair 8 weeks shorter than it is now? Why can’t you understand that I want it as short as you can possibly get it with some semblance of my preferred style so as to maximise the time between insufferable haircuts?
Thirdly, must we talk to each other? You’ve already suggested you have nothing to offer by playing Gin fucking Wigmore in your establishment which should never have been called 'Hair, Thair and Everywair.' All conversing with me will do is prove it. I don’t want to make small talk about my studies. “Oh political science, do you want to be a politician?” No. None of us do, at least in the foreseeable future. I don’t want to talk about Christchurch. My family are fine, thank you very much for asking, but I swear to God, if you ask me
which school I went to I’ll stab you in the cock with your own scissors. I also don’t want to talk about the rugby. No one ever talks about rugby, they just recycle a string of meaningless cliches and newspaper headlines. Do us both a favour and forget the small talk.
Look, hairdressers, I know you’re removing an unsightly growth from my head but this isn’t brain surgery. It really shouldn’t be this hard. I want a hairCUT, not a re-style, not a perm, not a colouring, not a treatment, not dreads, not scalp waxing, not a word shaved into my head, not a head massage and not a million bloody questions on how to do your job. Give me a shorter version of what I’ve got. Sheesh, imagine what I’d say if I actually received a bad haircut....
So what do you think? Is going to hairdresser more stressful than it should be and is this entirely their fault?