The 911 Hair Dilemma

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I pulled myself from bed this morning and started my regular routine for a normal school day.

Yeah, you know the type of steps that I’m talking about to get oneself ready for a day of just about any type: showering, shaving, fixing your hair, dressing, eating breakfast, and finally brushing your teeth.

Now, maybe this isn’t your particular schedule, but I imagine that it’s something pretty close.

However, this morning I did the unthinkable…

I did one step out of order: I brushed my teeth after shaving.

Bad move.

I got dressed and—with not a lot of time for breakfast—I headed to school, deciding I’d wear the tie I got from ‘Joey’ for Christmas. After all, I’d left it at school after my last time of wearing it.

I arrived at work around 7:00 and took my stuff to the classroom. I grabbed my tie and headed to a mirror to put it on.

As I looked at my reflection staring back at me, I gasped.

I’d completely forgotten to do anything with my hair.

Whoa, just wait a minute here Teachinfourth, why is this even a concern? After all, doesn’t your hair always have a messy kind of look to it?

Yes, it does…but imagine hair with no gel in it whatsoever.

Needless to say, it wasn’t pretty. I looked like an overgrown Chia Pet. That, or a puffball.

Since I had students arriving in the next few minutes for before-school homework lab, I had no time to drive home and remedy the problem. So, I did what any other sane person would do in my situation.

I called up a friend.

I must admit that it’s a good friend who’d be willing to bring you hair gel at the early hours of the morning, and save you from a notoriously awful ‘bad hair day.’

Yes, that is a good friend, indeed.

Repost: I have no speech

Pin It Originally posted on March 9, 2008

I will be honest; I don't always relish phone calls from parents...one can never be sure just what type of Pandora's Box is just waiting to be unleashed when that receiver is lifted. This experience is yet another landmark in the saga of teacherdom calls; however, this phone call is probably one of the most odd that I have ever received. This in itself warranted a re-posting of this particular experience.

I hung up the phone and shook my head.

I couldn’t believe it.

The conversation that I had had with this particular student’s mom was a bit out of the ordinary. I never thought a conversation like this would’ve happened…at least, I didn’t ever think it would.

But happen it did…

Z: Hello?
P: Hello, Mr. Z. This is Mrs. So-and-So; What’s-his-face’s mom.
Z: Good afternoon, Mrs. So-and-So. What can I do for you today?
P: Well, I needed to ask you a question, Mr. Z.
Z: Sure, what is it?
P: Well, my son, What’s-his-face, wanted me to call you and ask about your hair.

Pause

Z: My hair?
P: Yes, you see, What’s-his-face wants his hair to stick up like yours and the gel we have doesn’t seem to work very well. He was just wondering what kind you used and where you buy it.

Pause

Z: You’re serious?
P: Um, yeah. (In the background: “What kind does he use, Mom?”)
Z: Well, actually I buy it at Albertson’s.
P: Albertson’s? Great, and what’s it called?
Z: It’s called “Spike Glue.”
P: Spike Glue?
Z: Yes.

Pause

(In the background: “What does it look like?”)
P: Mr. Z? What does the container look like? What’s-his-face wants to be sure we can find the right one when we get to the store.
Z: Well…I think the container is kind of a light bluish-green color to tell you the truth. It says “Spike Glue” right on the lid. It also has kind of a yellow packaging around it.
P: Hang on, I need to write this down.

Pause

P: Okay, got it. Thanks. What’s-his-face will be so excited.
Z: Great, hope you are able to pick some up.
P: Oh yes, we’re going to the store right now.
Z: Alright…well, Mrs. So-and-So, you have a great day and I’ll see What’s-his-face back here again at school tomorrow.
(In the background: “How much does he use?”)
P: Um, Mr. Z?
Z: Yeah?
P: How much of the ‘glue’ do you really use? I mean, I don’t want him to use too much. He hasn’t done this before.
(In the background: “Mom! Don’t tell him that.”)
Z: Well, I usually just get some on the tips of my fingers, that’s usually about enough for me.
P: Hang on. I need to write this down. (In the background: “How does he get his hair to stick up?”)

Pause

P: And then how do you get your hair to stand up like you do?
Z: Well, actually, the gel does most of the work…that’s my big secret. You just kind of muss up your hair until it looks right. The stuff holds pretty well.
P: Okay, Um…Well, I think that’s all we needed. Thanks for your help, Mr. Z, we’ll see you later.
Z: Great, glad I could help out What’s-his-face.
P: Oh, so am I. Well…um…goodbye.

In the words of Jerry Seinfield, “I am speechless: I have no speech.”

The container was empty

Pin It I realized this, with a rush of horror.

I’d been allotting myself small amounts since I’d noticed my supply slowly dwindling down. I knew that if I were careful, I would be able to make it to the weekend.

I’d make the necessary stop on Saturday, and pick up a fresh supply.

Victory was inevitable…that is, until I entered the store.

You can imagine my surprise when I discovered that they no longer carried it.

“That’s been discontinued since back in August.” One salesman told me. “If it were really that important to you, perhaps you should have bought some back then instead of waiting until now.”

I gazed at the man silently for a beat. “I did,” I replied. “I bought eight containers of it back in July.”

He looked taken aback, undoubtedly, his little comment backfired…after all, I had purchased said amount back then…however, if only I’d known…I’d have bought a case. No, make it two cases.

I won’t say that I didn’t panic at this point, because I did.

But just a little bit.

Could there be a substitute? I perused among the various product offered. This one was too goopy. That one was too hard. Those were too runny. These smelled funny.

In the end I felt at a loss, and I bought something which I was positive wouldn’t be nearly as good. I was right. It made me miss the old days and times of plenty.

I even hit several other stores which should have carried it, however, they didn’t. I was almost ready to throw caution to the wind and purchase it from Ebay…despite the horrendous costs they were charging for shipping—even for just one container.

Thankfully it was then that I had a friend who pointed me in the right direction. Did you know that you can buy gel online and not on Ebay?

Neither did I...

I guess I got a bit carried away…however, about 7 days later the box arrived.

I bought 10.

After all, there are some things in life which are vital. This is one of them.

I always procrastinate haircuts

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The reason is, is that I dislike going to the barber to sit.

And sit and sit…

Yesterday was no exception.

I’d been looking ragged for a few weeks, and I’d contemplated going in for a haircut. The way I see it, getting a haircut is like going to get gas. Eventually you’re going to reach a point where you will simply not have a choice anymore; you’re just going to have to break down and do it.

In my case, this decision is often helped along when I have to apply generous amounts of Spike Glue to my style, and then have it still come crashing down minutes after leaving the bathroom. In all, I feel that I look like a puppet of myself made out of lint.

I contemplated putting off this task until Monday…that’s when I remembered that it was President’s Day…the barber shops would most likely be closed to commemorate the leaders of the USA.

Curses.

I decided that Saturday would indeed have to be the day. However, before leaving I needed to make sure that my hair looked good, and to shave the back of my neck. After all, I didn’t want these people to think that I had absolutely no self-respect.

I drove to the barber shop and signed in. Since there were only about three other people in front of me, and three gals cutting hair, I figured that this wouldn’t take very long.

I was wrong.

For some reason, it appears that Saturday is ‘slow haircut’ day. I’d already leafed through nearly two copies of Entertainment Weekly, as well as watched part of an episode of “The King of Queens.” I was thinking longingly of my iPod, off in some distant repair shop, which’d usually helped me with long periods such as this. I didn’t even have a notebook with me in which I could write.

I was stuck.

The clock moved cataclysmically slow as a few more people walked in, apparently, having called in an appointment. I was not going to be getting a haircut quite as quickly as I may have liked.

It was at this point that something kicked in. It’s the evaluation of time spent. One begins to question whether or not they should simply wait it out—after all, they’ve already got this much time invested, or throw it to the winds and just leave—all too well knowing that they will be back in this same place in a day or two because, like I said earlier, sometime they’re going to have to come back. It was apparent that the guy just ahead of me decided that his investment would be forfeited, and I moved up one in line as he left the building.

And still I waited.

Sometime between now and the millennium, my name was called, and I was presented the chair in which to sit.

I’ve also now come to the conclusion that talking with your barber is probably not the wisest thing to do—that is when they stop cutting in order to answer your questions. I could feel my life slowly ebbing away as a ‘normal’ haircut took twice as long as it might usually have.

When she finished, I pulled out my ‘frequent visits’ punch card and asked her to get me one step closer to my free haircut.

“I don’t do those things.” She said, offhandedly, as if merely mentioning the time of day.

“You don’t?”

She shook her head, “Sorry.”

Who did this woman think she was?

I know that I should probably say something to her…mention how I’d been coming to this barber shop longer than she’d been working here, and how nobody had ever questioned the ‘free haircut’ card. Nobody but her.

That’s when I was remembered that it was Valentine’s Day.

I slid the card back into my wallet, and instead handed her a tip with a well wishing of, “Happy Single’s Awareness Day.”

I gave a wink as I left.

As I walked out the door there was a newness of the day. The sun was streaming down and melting the newly-fallen snow. The air was fresh and bright. As I walked I noticed that I had a spring in my step. Life was good…

I love haircuts.

I have no speech

Pin It I hung up the phone and shook my head.

I couldn’t believe it.

The conversation that I had had with this particular student’s mom was a bit out of the ordinary. I never thought a conversation like this would’ve happened…at least, I didn’t ever think it would.

But happen it did…

Z: Hello?
P: Hello, Mr. Z. This is Mrs. So-and-So, What’s-his-face’s mom.
Z: Good afternoon, Mrs. So-and-So. What can I do for you today?
P: Well, I needed to ask you a question, Mr. Z.
Z: Sure, what is it?
P: Well, my son, What’s-his-face, wanted me to call you and ask about your hair.

Pause

Z: My hair?
P: Yes, you see, What’s-his-face wants his hair to stick up like yours and the gel we have doesn’t seem to work very well. He was just wondering what kind you used and where you buy it.

Pause

Z: You’re serious?
P: Um, yeah. (In the background: “What kind does he use, Mom?”)
Z: Well, actually I buy it at Albertson’s.
P: Albertson’s? Great, and what’s it called?
Z: It’s called “Spike Glue.”
P: Spike Glue?
Z: Yes.

Pause

(In the background: “What does it look like?”)
P: Mr. Z? What does the container look like? What’s-his-face wants to be sure we can find the right one when we get to the store.
Z: Well…I think the container is kind of a light bluish-green color to tell you the truth. It says “Spike Glue” right on the lid. It also has kind of a yellow packaging around it.
P: Hang on, I need to write this down.

Pause

P: Okay, got it. Thanks. What’s-his-face will be so excited.
Z: Great, hope you are able to pick some up.
P: Oh yes, we’re going to the store right now.
Z: Alright…well, Mrs. So-and-So, you have a great day and I’ll see What’s-his-face back here again at school tomorrow.
(In the background: “How much does he use?”)
P: Um, Mr. Z?
Z: Yeah?
P: How much of the ‘glue’ do you really use? I mean, I don’t want him to use too much. He hasn’t done this before.
(In the background: “Mom! Don’t tell him that.”)
Z: Well, I usually just get some on the tips of my fingers, that’s usually about enough for me.
P: Hang on. I need to write this down. (In the background: “How does he get his hair to stick up?”)

Pause

P: And then how do you get your hair to stand up like you do?
Z: Well, actually, the gel does most of the work…that’s my big secret. You just kind of muss up your hair until it looks right. The stuff holds pretty well.
P: Okay, Um…Well, I think that’s all we needed. Thanks for your help, Mr. Z, we’ll see you later.
Z: Great, glad I could help out What’s-his-face.
P: Oh, so am I. Well…um…goodbye.

In the words of Jerry Seinfield, “I am speechless: I have no speech.”