Confessions in a Barber's chair

So I had a good chat with my barber today. I have two barbers that share the same shop - Peter and Bill - and today I had Peter cut my hair. I tend to go to Bill. And for good reason. About a year ago, I took Mackenzie to get a hair cut cause he was essentially wearing a mop. I was hoping to get Bill cause he cuts kids hair. Peter doesn't. Bill was not in that day but I was determined to have Mackenzie's hair cut. I kinda forcefully convinced Peter to give it a try. I am not a forceful person so this was somewhat out of character for me. It was a disaster. Peter was tense, Mackenzie was in tears, and even though hairs were cut, the "before" was definitely looking better than the "after". Peter finally gave up and sent us home without charging us. He didn't want me to pay for "work he was not proud of." Needless to say, I felt very bad for the whole mess-for Mackenzie for the trauma he experienced but mostly for Peter who was very tense and frustrated. I felt worse for Peter cause as far as I was concerned, Mackenzie needed to suck it up and accept the fact that he needs to be groomed.

Since that day, every time I walk into the shop, I feel pangs of guilt for what I put Peter through. And for that reason too, I have Bill cut my hair. I somehow came to believe that every time I walked into the shop, and Peter saw me, in his mind he was saying: "oh, not him, not the guy that pressured me into cutting his son's hair and putting me through hell".

All these thoughts were going through my head when I walked into the shop this morning. I thought that this time, I would go to Peter. I wanted to send the message that I was not upset at him for his failure to cut my sons hair and I didn't want him to think I was avoiding him cause sometimes, when I go to get a haircut, he says that Bill's not here, assuming that I want Bill to do it. And I wanted him to know that I was sorry for putting him through hell. Well, it turns out that Bill was not at the shop today and wouldn't be for some time since he was on holidays. I wasn't going to let that phase me. My hair was soo long, when I wore my toque, my silhouette resembled a 100watt light bulb. I told him I was going to stay and wait for him to be done with his current client.

As I sat down in his chair, we bantered about. The usual topics: weather, how busy we are, cars. Then the inevitable silence. We were out of things to say. I am usually fine with this silence only today, something inside me told me to talk to him about that "incident". And for some stupid reason, I listened to that voice and started out with "I don't know if you remember but about a year ago I brought my son in for a haircut . . ." I told him the whole story, ending with: "and I still feel terrible for making you go through that." And I'll be darned, Peter could not remember the fiasco. He had no recollection! You don't know the joy I felt this morning sitting in his chair, his shaver buzzing dreamily about my head!

Turns out he thought the story was funny! I told Peter that my son still hates getting his hair cut and it is not because of him but because of another "incident" with an evil lady. It also turns out that there is a place in Westbank that specializes in cutting the hairs of kids like mine! Double blessing!

So the moral of the story is, if you need a barber, and you have kids and you want to take them to the same barber, and you struggle with a guilty conscience, make sure that he has a bad memory.