The hair cut

So there was this one time when I went to get a hair cut here in Hong Kong. I've been to the salon many times and knew most of the hair stylists on staff. A young woman whom I don't recall seeing before escorted me to my chair and asked me how I wanted my hair cut. I told her that I needed a good 'business-style' cut, off the ears, tapered and feathered all over - what I normally say. She asked me if I wanted a 'number three', which is something I've never been asked before, so I asked her what it meant. She said something like 'a number three for your hair.' Still not understanding but wanting to be nice, I said, 'sure, why not' and she began cutting my hair, with an electric trimmer, which many past stylists have used so I was not concerned.

Note: because I wear contacts, I close my eyes during these events because I fear hair will get into my eyes and that would be very painful.

When she announced that she was done, I opened my eyes to see the masterpiece. To say I was a surprised is an understatement. This was by far the shortest hair I had had since I was about three months old. I noticed that one clump of hair on top was standing up so I reached out and touched it, somewhat out of disbelief, and also to see just how short it was. My friendly and eager stylist took that to mean that the hair was too long so she proceeded to cut it shorter. She smiled triumphantly as I nodded my head and, in my mind, declared a truce.

I guess it goes without saying that even when we engage in life's simple things, like getting a haircut, it's very important to have good communication skills. It also can't hurt if you can speak the language a bit to avoid even more unexpected results. Learning terms and definitions upfront and using them consistently also goes a long way. On the whole, the breakdown was my fault as I should have pressed her more on what a 'number three' was and how she intended to use it. I guess that's what I get for being nice. Ya, ya, I know. I'm rambling again.