To balance my last post of self congratulation, I bring you a post of self deprecation.
I am Drek's appointed hair-cutter. I've cut his hair hundreds of times. I'm sure I will cut it hundreds more. A few weeks ago Drek announced he needed a haircut and asked if I would do it that night.
Everything was set up. Drek was sitting there, ready for me to start. I don't know what was wrong with me. Maybe it was the fact that I had a cold, or the sleep deprivation, or maybe I'm just an airhead. Whatever the reason, as I was moving to make the first pass over his hair with the buzzers, while I was in mid swing, I realized I didn't attach the guide comb; it was just the straight buzzer.
I tried to stop. I tried to change course. It was too late. I cut his hair down to the scalp. Right on top of his head. Right in front.
I gasped and jerked the buzzer away. Drek look at me, startled.
"What happened?" He asked
I didn't answer. My eyes were wide with horror as I tried to gauge the damage.
Drek jumped up and looked in the mirror. After a pause he said "You think I should go for a new look?"
Bless that man.
We weighed our options: There was no chance of thinning or blending. We could either buzz his whole head (I said no) he could shave his head and rock a bald look (He said no) he could sport a Mohawk (that was a combined no) or he could wear a hat.
And so Drek got a hat. He actually looks really good in a hat.
I tired again today. His hair had grown enough that I could cut all his hair down to match. Crisis over. Phew.