What Could Go Wrong?

Scott is an old-fashioned short and stout professor in his early fifties. It was his routine to go to the salon four weeks once. The reason, his head is full of brain. The subatomic particles bombard inside his head. The result is a nuclear reaction: a chain reaction of excessive hair growth.

He and his khaki trousers are inseparable. He has twelve pairs of identical pants. A fat purse for the shop owner because he prefers to buy those trousers in dozens. Be it to buy a carton of milk or to his classes, he carries himself in full hand shirt and close-cut boots. 

It was a Sunday mid-morning, the perfect time to visit a hair salon. Sunday and the thick forest of hair in Scott's head don't go well with each other. He got ready in his uniform style attire for a haircut, which he labeled as an intricate job. 

Each time when he is up for his haircut assignment, he reaches Venessa's. Venessa hair salon: It's a fancy hair salon down the lane where Scott lived. Standing outside its glass door, he always stares the interior of the salon for a full long minute. After a careful study, he used to enter, not to Venessa's but to the Hair Force barbershop, which is opposite to it. Hair Force barbershop: it's a simple shop that offers essential beauty services. Nobody knows why Scott gazes Venessa's every time. Either he admires the salon but not willing to go in, or calculates how many people wasted their money. 

Scott is a regular customer to the barbershop. The stylists in the Hair Force knew how to treat him. He gets his hair done with due respect as a royal king. 

"What style, sir?" Chris handed over the brochure to Scott.

"Joined recently, eh? I don't need this. Where are the other boys?" Scott gave the brochure back to him.

"Yeah. It's my first day, sir. One left the job, two of them on vacation, and the other went to grab his brunch."

"Oh, I see. Alright, Regular cut, semi-short. Make it clean, no fussy work, OK. I'm a college professor."

"Sure. Which college do you work for, sir?"

"Why do you have to build a tower in your head? These boys in my college look like species from another world, all because of you guys. Can you stop asking questions and do your job?" Scott lectured him.

Chris gave a grim look and wrapped the Sanek neck strip around him and cover him up in a black cloak. When he was about to start, Scott yelled, "Stop it. No razor. Go for Scissor cut."

"But.."

Before Chris could say something, Scott stopped him, "No but's, and if's. Do what I say."

Chris nodded with unease and took the scissors. He spritzed Scott's hair with clean water. Chris combed Scott's hair forward and made an imaginary line down the center of his head. The imaginary line was as if between Scott's eyes separating the right side from the left side. Starting from the back, he worked forward along the imaginary line. He combed up a half-inch section of Scott's hair and pinched it between his index and middle finger. Then, he slid his fingers up and started trimming the hair above the finger. He snipped the hair at an angle with the scissors so that it won't look uneven.

Scott gave a suspicious look through the mirror when Chris was cutting his hair. Chris found that Scott had zero faith in him. He felt Scott monitored him with his eagle eyes. It made him uncomfortable. He tried to ignore it and concentrated on trimming. 

Somehow Chris managed to trim the top and blend the hair. The first sigh of relief he felt. Chris reached the front of Scott's head and combed his bangs down. Holding the scissors with the tips pointing up, he made little snips using the points of the scissors. 

Chris circled the golden rule in his mind. It is, "Be careful with bangs. 

"Once you cut it, it's gone." You can cut more off, but you can't add it back." 

The sweat drops formed around Chris's forehead.

"Why do you sweat badly? Is it your first haircut in your lifetime? Are you experimenting with my hair?" Scott asked in a loud tone. His voice jolted Chris. 

Thank God, the scissors were off Scott's head else, the jerk Chris made would have messed the haircut. He managed his shock and replied, "No, sir. I worked in a salon for a year."

"Fine. Be careful. Don't mess with my hair." Scott ordered him.

Chris controlled his anxiety and anger and continued working with the bangs. He finished trimming the bangs. A second sigh of relief traveled across Chris. 

"Nothing could go wrong after this. Soon I will get rid of the fox looks of this professor," he thought.

He then trimmed the sides and the back. It was a smooth, easy, and perfect cut. Throughout the process, he didn't dare to look at Scott. Ninety percent of the hair cut was over. Chris became relaxed and did the magical final touches. One last time he combed and touched up rough areas with scissors. 

Everything went well, and he removed the cape and neck strap around Scott's neck. He dusted off the bits of the hair left with the brush and showed the mirror to Scott to look at the back. 

"Is it perfect, sir?" Chris asked Scott, and he nodded for it.

"All done, sir. You are good to go." Chris said and walked to the cash counter.

"You won't wash my hair, eh?" Scott barked.

"Do you need a hair wash, sir? It costs extra bucks. Are you fine with it?" Chris replied and walked towards Scott.

"I won't run without paying you. Wash my hair." Scott commanded.

Chris controlled his anger since it was his first day. He directed Scott to wash basin and covered him with the cape. He asked him to lean back and wet his hair and shampooed it. Chris rinsed and washed Scott's hair. When he took a towel to dry Scott's head, he stopped Chris.

"What about conditioner? You just shampooed. You are too unprofessional from the start. I have to talk to your owner about this." Scott bashed him with his words.

"Sorry, sir. The shampoo was with conditioner, so I didn't apply the conditioner. If you want, I can apply conditioner again," Chris tried to be polite. That job meant a lot to him, and he doesn't want to lose it.

"Don't say. Do it, young man. Go, move your butt. Bring the conditioner," Scott urged him.

Chris wanted the never-ending saga to finish. So he rushed in and got the conditioner. He applied the conditioner fast and rinsed again. Bunch by bunch, Scott's hair ran into the washbasin drain along with the water. Chris was dumbstruck. He didn't know what went wrong. He checked the conditioner bottle and found he applied chemical depilatory by mistake. 

"Are you done with rinsing? What makes you so long? Can we go and dry my hair?" Scott asked Chris.

Not knowing what to do, he covered Scott's head with a towel and directed him to the chair near the mirror. Chris patted Scott's bald head with the towel for some time.

A sense of satisfaction shined at the corner of Scott's lips. But Chris was dying inside. 

"What are you daydreaming? Remove the towel, blow dry my hair, and comb it. You don't know anything." Scott screamed.

With hesitation, Chris removed the towel. 

"What did you do to my hair?" Scott roared.

"Where did my hair go? What did you apply? Show it to me." Scott pressed Chris.

"The towel engulfed your hair," Chris mumbled.