Angrily, my mother whisked me from the bedroom and lead me through the house and into the kitchen, where she was washing dinner plates. “ Isaac, how could you do that to him? He was trying his best, he didn’t mean anything wrong. How could you be so inconsiderate?” she scolded. My mother had the look on her face that parents get when they can’t accurately express their disappointment in their children with words. Charged with emotion, the words spewed out of my mouth. “ It was such a bad haircut. I look like a girl!” I wanted to forgive my grandfather, I really did, but I just couldn’t. I was extremely unhappy, and an experienced barber should be able to give a better haircut.
Donald Wegner, renowned barber and owner of executive forum barber shop, stood next to a brightly colored stool in the center of the living room, smiling brightly. The stool gleamed with early morning sunlight showing through the adjacent window. He had cut hundreds of heads of hair in his lifetime, including the mayor of Des Moines, but was about to face his greatest challenge yet, his grandson. I got up from my position at the breakfast table, took a deep breath, and walked over to the barber chair. Today was going to be a milestone for me as well. For years, I had always wanted to walk into the barber shop and come out with a buzz cut, but I had always chickened out at the last moment, thinking that I would look foolish with short hair. However, today was the day when I would stick it through and not quit. I wasn’t exactly sure how to go about this situation, so I laid out a strategy where my grandfather would cut a little bit and I would look at my hair in a little hand mirror and judge whether or not I wanted more taken off. He began to cut, skillfully maneuvering the scissors through my hair and grinning as he worked. Before I knew it, my hair was already at the length where I usually ask the barber to stop cutting. Not this time though, I asked if my grandpa if he could cut a little bit more.
“I shouldn’t have risked it”, I yelled, for about the hundredth time. I know my mom was certainly getting tired of hearing it. My face was covered in tears. I had finally realized the problems that I had caused. If I hadn’t asked my grandfather to cut that additional section of hair, none of this would have happened. It would have just been a regular haircut. Instead, I not only damaged my relationship with my grandfather, but also ended up with a lousy haircut that would take weeks to grow out. My mother clearly did not see that side of the story. According to her, the haircut looked good and I was overreacting. Of course, this was easy for her to say, as my hair actually bore a strong resemblance to hers on that day.
I jumped out of the chair and ran to the bathroom across the hall, slamming the door. I looked at myself in the mirror. The haircut had not turned out the way I wanted it to look at all. Instead, I thought that I looked like a girl, as the hair was cut so evenly and in such a circular shape. I immediately felt so self conscious, and I didn’t want anybody to see me with my new haircut. I burst into tears, horrified at what had happened. I eventually cleaned myself up, and when I came back outside, I knew my grandpa had understood my disappointment. He clearly felt extremely guilty, and we parted ways, me rushing into my room to do some more crying, and he walking into the kitchen to make a snack.