All my favorite barbers have one thing in common. They don't fucking talk to me while I'm getting my haircut. Seriously, fuck all the extroverted shitheads who can't go 5 minutes without conversation and put this expectation on jobs like haircutters or dentists where they need to engage in the most meaningless small talk ever.
Fuck. That. The extent of conversation that needs to happen during a haircut is me telling them how I want it cut, and then thanking them afterwards. That's it. I do not want to talk about my day. I do not want to talk about my job. I do not want to talk about my life. I'm not there to fucking socialize, I'm there to get my haircut. Shut the hell up and let me disassociate during the time I am stuck in the chair.
Oh I hear ya. But yes there's a reason people talk about whether it's raining or is nice out. It's kind of like coasting downhill - no effort, kind of fun in a way, and then you get on with things.
But yeah I try to avoid much past that, or if they really need to talk for whatever reason you can just ask questions like "oh yeah? how was that?" and "what school is it?" or something.
It's probably just a way for them to seem friendly or to kill the time while working. I'm by no means a fan of smalltalk (I'm a Finn) but I wouldn't be that bothered by it either. Definitely not angry about it.
This kind of nonsense is the reason I've not been to a hairdresser since I was 16. Which is both a) a very long time ago and b) readily apparent just by looking at me.
Since the pandemic, I've been growing my hair out then shaving it off every few months. After going to the hairdressers once since then, I remembered how much I hate it. Been cutting/shaving my own hair ever since.
And it feels good to time the shave when I have a period of stress and frustration. Going through the process is like a rebirth and helps me mentally reset.
Haha, when I go they never speak to me.
People in other chairs are all chatting away about holidays or football or whatever.
I've tried once or twice to engage in conversation but it just inevitably ends up in silence.
TBH I quite like it, I can think about other stuff.
As a bald man I sometimes wonder if I'm missing out on a part of British culture by not going to the barber, but if this is what it's like then I'm glad I don't have to go through it.
Why would I someone mind the quiet or especially others talking? Sit down, tell how you'd want your hair done and then start reading Donald Duck comics.
Can't say I've ever had an experience like this. Never had a bother with not getting the cut I want either. Is Collins half yank or something? This shite looks like the sort of thing an American attempting to ingratiate themselves would vomit out.