There are no clients again. The boredom sets in, and my body begins to sink. All the cleaning has been done. Overwhelmed by sighing. At the edge of boredom is a sweet craving, the little sugar rush aids the entertainment and silliness that lives alongside the quiet moments, and lifts the sinking feeling. The waiting can be fun.It’s in these lulls you begin to talk nonsense, forced into a place where you must entertain oneself, especially after a sugar hit. BTs are perceived to be young & dumb, which, like many generalisations, is wrong. I’ve met plenty of fun & funny, smart, young n old fat and skinny blonde, brown, redheads, lovers of false eyelashes and layers of makeup, to the natural, I been working 7 10 hour days and not fucked to put any makeup on, beauties. We can share our grim tales of dodgy customer experience. Laugh at the lunatics that come in, and their demands. And, on a night out bt’s are wild. I don’t know if it’s bowing down to every customer need on a daily basis, being quiet for long periods of time, or sometimes not talking at all. But rarely have I seen a quiet BT on a night out. In fact, most of my colleagues I’ve worked with over years gone by, are wildly funny, yes girls, yes wildly funny. Missing funny banters & mucking about with the girls. Here it’s just me, myself and I, sitting waiting hoping sitting waiting.
One hour to go, shoot me now. I pop into the barbers to say hi, they’re always up for nonsensical chats and some inane amusing banter there. Heartfelt murmurs are coming from the tiny, cluttered staffroom kitchen. The young barber can be heard singing his heart out to bohemian rhapsody. I pop my head in the staff room, Galileo Galileo Galileo! We all join in. There is nothing like a sing-a-long. Everyones a Queen fan, when they pop up randomly on the radio, and we all know the words how??? Predictably, we all headbang like the characters from Wayne’s World; this never ceases to be amusing. Then to mix it up, us three skinny white kids start to boogie down to a bit of rap as magic FM is flipped to kiss. White dudes effectively rapping-along make’s me smile.
I wonder if the barbershop quartet originates from moments of boredom and waiting for custom.