2008 Woodie Awards
Guest Column: The importance of a good barber
Jamey Booterbaugh
Issue date: 10/31/06 Section: Opinions
I haven't had a regular barber since I was in high school. As a matter of fact, I haven't had a new hairstyle since high school, but as the adage goes, I like to dance with who brung me.
When I moved to Greensboro about three years ago, I found that my hair grew faster due to the humidity. I think it grew faster. The humidity was higher, at least. Anyway, I called an old friend of mine, now a local.
"Where's a good place to get a haircut?" I asked him.
"I go to "Such and Such Big Chain Beauty Parlor," he said. He might not have said "beauty parlor," but you get my point. Having taken his advice on matters before, I decided to go there.
Now where I had my hair cut was one less thing I had to think about. Until one day I was waiting for a haircut when an employee walked in the door with a terrible scowl on her face. She called my name, and I knew I should have told her I was waiting for the other haircutter.
Not-so-long story short, she nearly choked me with the little neck paper. Then she tried to decapitate me with her clippers. Right then, I decided I needed a barber-one who worked in a barber shop with hair on the floor and a TV.
I had driven past Key's Barber Shop on Walker Avenue at least a hundred times before I decided to stop there for a haircut. I walked in, and an older gentleman greeted me and asked me to take a seat. I sat down in his conditioned barber chair, and I told him how I like my hair cut.
"Watch out," I told Jerry. "I have two cowlicks back there," pointing to the top of my head.
"Sir?" Jerry said. "Would you repeat that?" Jerry pointed to his hearing aid. His hearing isn't what it once was, but his eye for seeing your haircut is still sharp. I didn't need to tell him about my cowlicks. He saw them back there, the barber's old enemy.
We started talking, just like you do at the barber shop--Jerry talking about West Virginia, how he and his wife make time for each other on Saturdays, and how he doesn't pick the mandolin anymore-- cutting and clipping all the while. And when he finished, Jerry had cut my hair just exactly as I like it. My cowlicks lay down, and my neck was fine. I had found my barber.
Now when I walk in, Jerry shakes my hand and greets me by name. He says, "Short on the sides and back, but not skinned, and longer on the top?" Exactly. Jerry Keys is an authentic barber with the practiced skills of a craftsman in an authentic barber shop complete and hair on the floor.
When I moved to Greensboro about three years ago, I found that my hair grew faster due to the humidity. I think it grew faster. The humidity was higher, at least. Anyway, I called an old friend of mine, now a local.
"Where's a good place to get a haircut?" I asked him.
"I go to "Such and Such Big Chain Beauty Parlor," he said. He might not have said "beauty parlor," but you get my point. Having taken his advice on matters before, I decided to go there.
Now where I had my hair cut was one less thing I had to think about. Until one day I was waiting for a haircut when an employee walked in the door with a terrible scowl on her face. She called my name, and I knew I should have told her I was waiting for the other haircutter.
Not-so-long story short, she nearly choked me with the little neck paper. Then she tried to decapitate me with her clippers. Right then, I decided I needed a barber-one who worked in a barber shop with hair on the floor and a TV.
I had driven past Key's Barber Shop on Walker Avenue at least a hundred times before I decided to stop there for a haircut. I walked in, and an older gentleman greeted me and asked me to take a seat. I sat down in his conditioned barber chair, and I told him how I like my hair cut.
"Watch out," I told Jerry. "I have two cowlicks back there," pointing to the top of my head.
"Sir?" Jerry said. "Would you repeat that?" Jerry pointed to his hearing aid. His hearing isn't what it once was, but his eye for seeing your haircut is still sharp. I didn't need to tell him about my cowlicks. He saw them back there, the barber's old enemy.
We started talking, just like you do at the barber shop--Jerry talking about West Virginia, how he and his wife make time for each other on Saturdays, and how he doesn't pick the mandolin anymore-- cutting and clipping all the while. And when he finished, Jerry had cut my hair just exactly as I like it. My cowlicks lay down, and my neck was fine. I had found my barber.
Now when I walk in, Jerry shakes my hand and greets me by name. He says, "Short on the sides and back, but not skinned, and longer on the top?" Exactly. Jerry Keys is an authentic barber with the practiced skills of a craftsman in an authentic barber shop complete and hair on the floor.
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