OK. That’s It, Cindy
OK That’s it Cindy. By: ManBarber
I was sitting drinking a can of beer, thumbing through the latest issue of Cosmo waiting for customers in my barber shop, when the sound of two grizzling kids and a muttering mother announced the arrival of some business – albeit probably unwelcome!
There’s only one thing that I hate more than when a mom drags a “little Bobbie” in kicking and screaming for a haircut… that’s when mom usually brings at least one other along like a “little Cindy”. Who naturally is goading little Bobbie. The scenario usually goes like this. Cute “little Cindy” refuses to sit quietly next to mom while “little Bobbie” is getting his hair cut. She paces around the chair “little Bobbie” is seated in, getting his reluctant haircut, saying things like, “Cut it all off” and “More Mister, cut more off”. Little Bobbie gets more and more fidgety, so my usual course of action is to tell little Cindy that if she doesn’t behave I’ll talk mom into letting me cut her hair next. Mom sensing that I am getting as annoyed with her cute little Cindy as she is and usually plays along, in that ‘remote control’ form of parental discipline. “Oh, you cut little girls’ hair as well then?” is a typical mom response. “Yes, and I always cut the little girl’s hair shorter then the little boy’s. I would love to cut little Cindy’s hair, I’ll even cut it for free.”
Then I take several steps toward little Cindy. This is almost always enough to send cute little girls running back to mom’s side with her hands on head to protect the precious hair from the “mean barber man”, where they SHOULD sit quietly for the remainder of ‘little Bobbie’s’ haircut.
In fact this joint tactic had always worked for me except one time when one “little Cindy” just would NOT shut up. Even after mom threatened little Cindy several times, saying she really would let the “mean Mister barber” cut her hair all off if she didn’t behave, little Cindy kept running around and pulling the cape that was wrapped around little Bobbie’s neck. The “mean barber” kept looking over to mom nodding his head up and down and threatening, “Little Cindy’s going to get her hair cut next.” Mom kept shaking her head from side to side, ordering little Cindy to behave. “Buzz him, use the buzz things!” Little Cindy said as she tugged on the cape.
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The “mean barber” shook her off in exasperation, threw an imploring look to mom again, who once again with a deep sigh, just shook her head from side to side. Then this particular “little Cindy” made the mistake that sealed the fate of her over-the-shoulder, straight brown hair. Cute little Cindy said, very clearly and loudly a very nasty word to the “mean barber” that cute little girls should NEVER use — let alone in front of mom! This time when the “mean barber” nodded his head up and down, mom took a cigarette out of her purse, lit it, took a puff, and gave the me a conspiratorial and sly smile as she in turn, nodded her head up and down. It was as if the two shocked adults had already reached an unspoken agreement on both little Cindy’s crime and suitable punishment. “OK, That’s it Cindy.”
This was all the mother said, but it seems that feminine intuition starts very young as Cindy sat in silence as I finished the boy’s haircut and he stepped out of the chair ruefully rubbing his near-bald ‘summer-cut’ head. Little Cindy sat in silence still, obviously hoping her shocking transgression was already forgotten — but I think she really knew what was in store. “Cindy, I have NEVER heard such language. Particularly from a young lady — and it seems that you are not one. Very well.”
Cindy squirmed in her frightened silence. I too was quiet, in anticipation and more than a little nervous, if excited, dread of my own. The judgment was declared, and despite being expected it evoked startled reaction in both Cindy and her nominated executioner. “Please clipper her hair off good and short Mister. If she can not act like a lady, she need not look like one. Cut it like her brother’s!”
It took mom several minutes to corner and capture the now screaming, crying little brat, then she promptly plopped her into the barber’s chair. Little Cindy screamed bloody murder as the ‘mean barber’ buzzed the sides and back using the Wahl clippers with the 1/8 guard. Mom held little Cindy’s head while the mean barber quickly produced a perfect replica of the brother’s summer crew cut on the sobbing, if obnoxious Cindy. Mom lit up another cigarette, winked and smiled at me while she escorted little Cindy out, repeating the threat this shaken and ‘mean’ barber had issued during the final shearing to little Cindy. “From now on you’re going to be a good little girl and listen to your mother or you will be back.”
Little Cindy sobbed as she ran out of the barber shop, her clipped head pink in the sun.
The following day the mother, whom I thought was a stunningly attractive woman with a brown shag cut just barely touching her shoulders stuck her head around the door as I was trimming a customer. I was expecting the worst — recriminations, shouting that I should have stopped her cropping her daughter — perhaps that the father was angry. I was very pleasantly surprised and stimulated when mom nonchalantly asked me if she too, could get her hair cut – short! As you can imagine I finished the gent in the chair in record time as ‘mom’, whose hair was the same color and texture that I had swept up only this morning, sat waiting.
She sat in my barber’s chair and replied, when I asked, that I was to crop it really short. I was stunned and surging with excitement when she, quite casually, agreed to let me use the electric clippers on the sides and back. I placed the cape on her and turned her around to face the mirror. She watched as I snapped that same plastic guard on the light gray Wahl clippers. I turned towards her, hoping she would not notice my visible arousal, but she got up and walked over to her purse. “You don’t mind if I smoke do you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied as she pulled a Marlboro red out of the pack and walked back to the chair. I was just about to turn the clippers on when she lit the cigarette, took a puff, and gave me that same conspiratorial, sly “OK. That’s it Cindy” smile again and she slowly nodded her head up and down.
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