Cold Enough For Ya? HA!
The haps.
Hello gang. I hope you're warm. Don't worry, it's going to warm up very soon. For about a month, then late March will bring us a hope-destroying spring storm right after they plow the roads, and after you make an appointment to get your tires switched over. Great news for farmers!
The cold also takes over peoples' minds, causing them to forget things. Like haircut appointments. I had 2.2 no-shows last week. The 0.2 was a regular who remembered his 11:00 appt at 10:59 and called to say he'd be 15 mins late. The other two just plum forgot. Everyone gets one, because we all make mistakes. After your freebie, you're paying for 2 cuts next time. It's a given, but if you don't show up, I don't get paid. Nobody has missed two, though. No-show me once, shame on you. No-show me twice, get your life together, holy crap.
You know what the 0.2 get did after his almost-missed haircut? He went home and booked his next 7 cuts. Seven. He's got his life together. The day after his night shifts end. Clockwork. And you can too! I have a few clients who are on a recurring schedule, you don't even have to do it, I can click "recurring every _ weeks". You get reminder emails, and your phone will put it in the calendar. Anyway, it's one of those technological conveniences. Makes both of our lives easier.
And now for my monthly disclaimer on why you're seeing this.
Have you ever broken a law on purpose? Thinking, "I know this is technically illegal, but it's not, like, immoral. Unethical, maybe, but won't get me turned away at the Burly Gates." (The Burly Gates are one of those Pinteresty archways made of trees in a magical land only open to good people. I've been there. Had a picnic. No big deal.) Like pirating a movie unavailable on streaming, or coming to a rolling stop at a stop sign. That was me a few minutes ago when I was going through the client list and subscribing people to this newsletter.
I click on the person's name and see Email Not Subscribed and I think, well, they're cool. I can't see why they wouldn't want my wit and musings added to their pile of unwanted spam? Maybe they need a haircut and forgot about little old Seth. They'll say, "Oh yeah, that guy. I guess it was an okay cut. Sure, I'll click the link and book a haircut."
I look left, look right, only see my dog give me a knowing and judging stare, tell her not to rat me out, and click Subscribe on a few lucky people. I feel a bit dirty about it, but hey, that's business, baby! I'm sure I'm the only business in town that's done anything unethical. (Ask me about my half-price gift cards!*)
I wonder if it's a crime like on old VHS movies where the warning about illegal copying (who has 2 VCRs, I mean really) was punishable by a fine of a million dollars or up to 20 years in jail. Or was it a $20 fine or a million years in jail? Do you get the option?
I assume breaking spam laws result in a fine (which would not be fine with me!) but if I don't have the money to pony up (don't forget, crimes punishable by fines are only meant to punish those who can't afford it) (also I'm really into parentheses today) I would have to go for the jail time option. Do you think it's one of those weekend-only sentences where I can still cut hair? Or barbershop-arrest where I'm forced to live there? With an ankle bracelet?
Or is it actually serious where I go to the pen and line up in my orange jumpsuit with the murderers and drug dealers? I probably wouldn't get the preferential treatment Luigi did; everyone hates spam. They'd ask me what I was in for and I'd have to lie. I'd have to come up with a cool crime. If they ever found out I added strangers to my newsletter list, they'd shank me first thing. I don't know how often drug dealers check their email. But they love money, so maybe they collect e-coupons.
Some guy named T-Rex would come up to me and say, "Are you the Seth from the barbershop? I never met you before but I get your emails. Care to explain why?" I see he's making fists.
"I'm not- um, I thought... I don't know... Did you at least enjo-"
"Do you know how much I hate spam in my inbox, Seth?" He's towering over me with forehead veins bulging. "Do you know how much I hate to unsubscribe from things? Do you know how annoying it is to scroll all the way down and find Unsubscribe in the fine print and sometimes it's disguised as Update Email Preferences? Then you click it and it opens up a page in my browser but it takes time to load so I get frustrated and swipe out, thus not unsubscribing me, then one month later I see your name in my inbox? AGAIN?"
"Um, yes Mr. Rex, I do. But how did it go to your primary inbox? It's my own newsletter and it still goes to my junk mail and I can't get it to go to the primary! Is there some way to get it to go to primary inboxes?"
"What do I look like, some kind of hacker?! I don't know, it just did! Are you telling me you not only want to spam people, you also want it to go to their important inbox?" He grabs me by the collar and lifts me up off my feet.
"I thought it would help remind people to book a haircut!" All the other inmates are laughing, I'm certain it's curtains for me.
He lowers me to the ground. "That is kinda helpful, actually. I get so caught up in my work that I forget to book in for Me Time."
"Me Time is so important, T," a gravelly-voiced man says from the crowd. "We men are taught to feel like we're not allowed to pamper ourselves. But we can."
"YEAH!" the crowd roars.
"Not only can we do that, we should!" another voice yells.
"When we look good, we feel good, right fellas?!" T-Rex is pumped up now. "These societal rules telling us it's not manly to take care of our hair, our skin, our mental health, they're all a big load of horse puckey!"
"Going to therapy is like going to the gym for your brain!" another man yells out.
The crowd cheers as we group hug. T-Rex and I go on to start a successful enterprise on the inside importing contraband eye serums and facial toners, and my cellmate and I make hair tonic in our toilet. We go on to transform the correctional industry into a health and wellness retreat, basically fixing society. T-Rex goes on to become Dr. Rex and is our resident psychologist and makes it cool to talk about feelings. When someone is seen crying in their cell, we rally around him and talk it out, letting them know it's not their fault, but their dad's, and we forgive them from afar.
The warden comes into my cell and takes a squirt of eye serum and spreads it around his orbital bone in an outward fashion. "Time to go, Seth. Your time is up."
"I can't go, boss."
He looks at me with wide eyes, accentuating how his crow's feet have all but disappeared. "But your sentence is complete. You can leave."
"My work here isn't finished. We're on the edge of world peace, Warden. Our message is spreading to the other facilities. Even other countries! I'm almost finished writing a book about it! It's called Feelings University."
"I can't keep you in here. Besides, if the industrial prison complex down south hears about it, they'll shut it down. They need prison slave labour to line their pockets."
They'll be changed too, I think to myself. "Okay, let me do one last thing." I go to the prison library and log on to my account and craft a newsletter. I go to the Client List and add as many email addresses as I can, hoping that one of the recipients will rat me out. "I'll be back," I think to myself, and I smile as I walk out of that prison looking ten years younger. The guards say goodbye with tears in their eyes (because we now know that crying is therapeutic and healing) and I give them each a bottle of Eau de Toilet Tonic and tell them I'm proud of them. My lady tosses me the keys to my bitchin' Camaro and we peel away into the sunset.
What's going on in Februarch.
Enter the Terrible Twos!
March 1st marks the 2nd anniversary of Seth's Barbershop.
The 1st birthdaversary came and went with little fanfare, as I was still gathering speed, getting on my wobbly feet. As one does around their first birthday. It felt too early to celebrate. And as one does on their second birthday, I'm running, spilling food on the floor, and throwing emotional regulation to the wind.
I was thinking of getting festive and maybe having someone making balloon animals, but I'll probably do nothing. I'm all talk. Maybe I'll take the next day off. March 2nd is a Sunday anyway, so.
Anyhoo, I know I may start to sound like a post-game interview when the athletes say the same 10 sentences over and over yet reporters still ask the same questions and waste everyone's airtime, I'm so grateful that you come get your haircut by me. Maybe it's once a year, or maybe you just bring your kid in. Either way, I'm thankful for you. And thanks for telling your friends.
The first year was crossing my fingers for clients, getting the word out there any way I could, afraid to the point of a panic attack that I would butcher someone and they would tell the world. But so far, so good. As you can see when picking an available time, my book is slowly filling up. We just gotta take it one day at a time, you know, um, keep working on the fundamentals. You know. uhhhh I can't let full weeks get to my head, gotta keep my head down and just continue to show up each day, ready to play. I mean work. Just gotta take 'em as they come, you know? uhhhhh just keep grinding, you know?
Local Business Plug
Let's all just keep on buying Canadian, shall we? The smaller and localler, the better. Localler is a word if you just believe.
My son's Subaru Forester was having issues starting and staying running, so he took it to Alberta Asian Motorworks and they put a new alternator in it and it was pretty quick and was pretty affordable. I really don't know what alternators cost these days, but Mike is a solid guy who doesn't seem to me to be the wrong kind of greasy. He's the good kind!
One Last Thing
There was one last thing but now I forget. I'll remember tomorrow when it's too late.
Anyway. See you soon!
Your Second Favourite Barber,
Seth
* Buy a gift card for double the price and get 50% off!
P.S. since I've got you here, feel free to click this link and buy my novel. I'm getting to the point where I can stop apologizing for how many swear words are in it. Get the first edition before it has the "Now A Major Motion Picture" sticker on it! The cover will be different too, movie poster style with Paul Mescal's face looking all broody, and an empty shot glass on its side. I don't know, I'm no poster designer.