Bob_Skurka
Super Member
- Joined
- Jul 1, 2003
- Messages
- 7,615
I'm 44 years old, basically been to the barber to get hair cuts most of my life, for the past few years my cousin clipped my hair in her basement. So for me, nothing fancy, just a normal haircut. At the old barber shop there were guys. Not too much talking but what there was usually revolved around tools, sports or horsepower, lots of good magazines like Popular Mechanics, Car & Driver, Sports Illustrated and similar periodicals.
So my hair got a bit too long and I didn't have time to get to my cousin's house for a normal clip job. The lovely Mrs_Bob decides to call the stylist at the local she-she-la-la type girly salon. She gets me an appointment for noon and swears they cut guys hair there too. I walk in, look around, and think OH YEA SURE, THEY CUT GUYS HAIR HERE??? Before I can make a hasty exit a woman behind a reception desk says "HI YOU MUST BE BOB"
First, why do they need a receptionist at a place that cuts hair?
So I mumble something and all of a sudden a STYLIST comes up to wisk me away, but first she asks if I want a mocha, a bottled water or something else to drink. UH, NO THANKS. And looking around I figure it would not only cost a bundle, but I also figure I would have to sit on the silly looking chaise lounge chairs they have up by the front windows (and I don't want to risk having anyone even see me in there because I also notice that I am the ONLY guy in the place).
So off I go to the shampoo room with the sylist and she washes my hair. Then a scalp massage. Then conditioner. Another scalp massage. And off we go to another room where I sit at a styling station. The stylist begins cutting. And she has 7 different colors of hair on her head. Seriously 7 different colors. And her hair is standing on end in random clumps of color. I am trusting her to cut my hair?
So then I tune into the conversations around the room. One lady is talking about how "CUTE" the other lady's VW Beetle is. Another comments on how QUIET her car is. Nobody mentioned horsepower, acceleration, or anything else that really matters.
45 minutes after she begins clipping I am out the door. $23 lighter in the wallet. And my hair looks the same as the $10 clip jobs I normally get.
So what I learned is that women accompish very little because they take 45 minutes to do a 15 minute task, they spend over twice as much money to do it slower, and they focus on the wrong things when they discuss things while trying to while away the time that they are wasting.
So my hair got a bit too long and I didn't have time to get to my cousin's house for a normal clip job. The lovely Mrs_Bob decides to call the stylist at the local she-she-la-la type girly salon. She gets me an appointment for noon and swears they cut guys hair there too. I walk in, look around, and think OH YEA SURE, THEY CUT GUYS HAIR HERE??? Before I can make a hasty exit a woman behind a reception desk says "HI YOU MUST BE BOB"
First, why do they need a receptionist at a place that cuts hair?
So I mumble something and all of a sudden a STYLIST comes up to wisk me away, but first she asks if I want a mocha, a bottled water or something else to drink. UH, NO THANKS. And looking around I figure it would not only cost a bundle, but I also figure I would have to sit on the silly looking chaise lounge chairs they have up by the front windows (and I don't want to risk having anyone even see me in there because I also notice that I am the ONLY guy in the place).
So off I go to the shampoo room with the sylist and she washes my hair. Then a scalp massage. Then conditioner. Another scalp massage. And off we go to another room where I sit at a styling station. The stylist begins cutting. And she has 7 different colors of hair on her head. Seriously 7 different colors. And her hair is standing on end in random clumps of color. I am trusting her to cut my hair?
So then I tune into the conversations around the room. One lady is talking about how "CUTE" the other lady's VW Beetle is. Another comments on how QUIET her car is. Nobody mentioned horsepower, acceleration, or anything else that really matters.
45 minutes after she begins clipping I am out the door. $23 lighter in the wallet. And my hair looks the same as the $10 clip jobs I normally get.
So what I learned is that women accompish very little because they take 45 minutes to do a 15 minute task, they spend over twice as much money to do it slower, and they focus on the wrong things when they discuss things while trying to while away the time that they are wasting.