This has nothing to do with travel or van life, and everything to do with my chosen profession.
As a barber, sometimes your conversations with people can be very superficial and contain a lot of small talk. Sometimes it’s all laughs. Sometimes it’s all downs, and sometimes you hear personal shit from people’s lives that can be, to say the least, shocking. You are the bartender without the booze, psychologist without the degree, and friend to bend an ear when there’s shit that you just need to get off your chest without fear of reprisal or judgement. I am here. I am your barber, and I’m happy to be your sounding board. In fact, I’m honored and I love it.
On the other hand, with such great responsibility, comes, at times, great risk and pain in the ass events that you wish didn’t come with the territory, but you know, basically par for the course.
I got a call today from a client while in the middle of a cut. It was someone I’ve been cutting hair for for some time, but a bit infrequently. So he’s familiar to me, but when he called and told me his name, I had to rack my brain to put the name with the face.
We will say his name is Mike, but I know him as Michael. This was the just the first issue. He was also calling from a number that was registered to someone else, apparently his fiance’. I figured that out later. He also sounded quite drunk. He could barely form sentences, but I made out what I needed to from the conversation.
He mentioned knowing this was odd he was calling me of all people, but he needed help and didn’t want to call anyone he knew too well. He was parked at a local church, right up the street, but didn’t want to drive. He needed a ride to the doctor, and he couldn’t wait. It had to be ASAP. He asked if I could give him the ride, or if I knew someone who could, but he wouldn’t tell me what kind of trouble he was in or any of the circumstances. That was either because he was too fucked up to reiterate what happened, or because it was bullshit. I’d say closer to the latter, but I didn’t know what the hell was going on at the time. I told him I had a guy in the chair, but I would call him back within ten minutes, which I did.
I agreed to pick him up and take him to the doctor. I’m not going to let a brother down. It’s not in my nature, but I’m also not a dumb ass. I quickly picked up my friend Sammy, who literally lives around the corner, and popped my firearm into my pocket, just in case. I’m a firm believer that most people are good, but if you add a little substance abuse to a situation, sometimes the switch gets flipped, and I don’t know this dude that well. We headed to the church.
As we drove, I remembered this is the same guy who has called on previous occasions a bit hammered, made an appointment and then didn’t remember doing so. He would either not show up, or call back after the fact. The weird thing is, sober he’s pretty proper and professional seeming. Flip the switch, and go…..
We call to let him know we are at the church, and surprise, he isn’t there. He says he’s going to text the address. He’s now at his house, but still needs a ride. It’s across the street from the church. So, we head that way, and wait for a text. It doesn’t come. We call again. He says he sent the text, but sent it to the wrong number. He sent it to my job. So, he sends it again to the right number. We get it, and pull in.
As soon as he walks out, I now put the face with the name and the whole picture becomes clear. He slowly makes his way up to the van. My window is rolled down and he’s obviously inebriated. Seeing Sammy with me, he decides he still needs a ride to a doctor, sighting mental health issues. He invites Sammy to drive him. He invites us inside to meet his baby. He’s all over the charts, finally saying he doesn’t want to go to the doctor, but thinks he needs a haircut. Sammy starts to get pissed.
His fiance’ eventually walks out into the driveway as well. Clearly she is sober and not amused. She asks us to please not give him a ride anywhere. We agree. I ask if he’s going to be OK, and I ask her if she is OK. She says yes, but I can only imagine the shit she’s been through already today. It’s 1PM and her man is FUCKED UP.
The conversation gets a little more jumbled and weird and Sammy starts to lose his patience with Mike. Words start flying and the conversation between the two becomes more than hostile. We agree to push off before this gets any uglier. Somewhere in the mix of all this, Mike says he still needs help mentally and wants to come by the shop for a haircut so he can talk. I agree, thinking at this point he won’t make it out of the driveway.
I was wrong.
I bring Sammy home and we have a cup of coffee before I depart back to the shop. We discuss the event and how bad we feel for this guy’s fiance’. She’s just had a baby with this dude, less than 4 months ago. We discuss whether or not the dude, just wanted to mack on me, or if he legitimately needed help. We spoke about rehab and mental health. We spoke about people feeling overwhelmed and under appreciated, how people change and can be ugly when they drink or do drugs. We said our piece and parted ways fully having digested the circumstance, and maybe, just a little, we felt guilty about not being more assertive in helping this guy get to a doctor. As I said before, both of us were on the fence as to whether or not he was calling for help or just trying to drag anyone who would listen into his binge drinking session, if that’s all he was on. Anyway, world’s problems discussed and for the moment solved.
I get back to the shop. By now, I’m feeling like I want to do a wellness check. Just in case this guy was serious. I call against my better judgement. He answers. Turns out, he’s already come by the shop, and I wasn’t there yet. I told him I now was. He says he’s made his way to Blu Sushi at the other end of our building, but he’s just ordered a drink. Can he come by in five minutes for a haircut and chat? I agree.
Mike comes by, but only after he has successfully had himself removed from Blu Sushi. He announces that if the police show up, to just tell them he’s a bit on the wild side. I laugh, but with a hint of concern.
In the meantime, Don exits the building and sees there are quite a few people outside Blu Sushi. Plus two sheriffs are walking about. He asks Jesse, one of the bartenders, what the commotion is, and they tell him the sorted tale of Mike coming in and causing a scene because his drink wasn’t prepared quickly enough, and he didn’t rub well with one of the guys sitting next to him, when the man was only asking him to calm down, etc., etc.. Jesse gives Don a description of the man who has now disappeared. Well, ding freaking ding. Don realizes it’s my customer whom I currently have in the chair. Don makes his way over to speak to the sheriffs and tells them he thinks he knows where the guy is they are looking for. They ask him if he is currently causing trouble. Don says “No, not at the moment.” He would find he was mistaken. Don ends up coming back to the shop, no sheriffs in tow.
YET, the haircut is quickly turning into a total shit show. First, Mike doesn’t like the fluorescent lighting and keeps asking me to turn them off, which I refuse to do. How the hell am I supposed to give a cut in the dark? Next he doesn’t want the cape. I explain how he will be covered in hair by the time I’m done, and itchy as hell, if he doesn’t allow me to drape him for the cut. He refuses, saying it’s the principal. OK?.?.?.?….. In the meantime, the dude can’t sit still for a moment. He starts swaying back and forth in the barber chair. I alert him to the fact the arm on the chair is already loose, and if he keeps swaying, it’s going to give and the chair will be broken. He thinks this is funny and sways more. I start to get more firm with my plea, and he does eventually stop.
Then he starts smoking a vape. Don, my boss walks through the shop and asks him if he’d please not vape in the barber shop. His retort was “Would you please not have a dog in the shop. You’re lucky I haven’t reported you already.” AND it goes downhill from there. The two go back and forth until Don just gives up and walks away. It was just me and him in the shop with this guy, and I was barely keeping him calm as is.
I worked as quickly as I could, during which I questioned him as to what was going on with him. Why is he feeling like he needs help? Why are things so bad? What’s so bad? What does he think he needs to change? For a bit he entertained my questioning, but he was unable to focus and would of consistently go back to how much money he has, and all the property he owns, and how influential he is, and who his family is. Do I want a house? Because he can give me one. His mom is a judge in town. She’s also a contractor. They own all the design firms in town. Ya da fucking ya da.
Service done… I sympathize. Life can be fucking hard. Especially when you have a newborn at home, and probably a fiance’ that is not so thrilled with her decision to procreate with you, or by your choice of how to deal with your stress. Things can get messy in this fucked up world. I get it. I’ve been through hell myself, and I told him about the shit I had been through in a past life, long before I became a barber. I told him to be thankful, because he could be going through that level of shit. There is always a story that’s worse than your own. Recognize.
He heard me in his drunken stupor and thanked me for sharing that. Whether or not he remembers my tail, we will see.
Do I regret splitting up my day to potentially help someone that ended up being just drunk? No. Because it could have easily been a legitimate cry for help. I’m sure in some ways it was. He does need help. I don’t think he’s ready though. Honestly, after talking with Sammy more about this, I actually think he did just want company to go on a mad mission with. He didn’t want to be alone. Nobody does. I get it.
