Monday, December 4, 2006

Barbers in general love small talk, which I suppose is the more enjoyable alternative to snipping in silence, but seldom do you find a stylist so keenly aware of the conventions of small talk. Oh, you’ll run into ones who prattle endlessly about the weather or, heaven forbid, sport stats, and I remember one woman back in Chicago who was given to lying compulsively. We’re talking claims about siphoning whiskey and crack cocaine into her children, penning a bestseller–fictional, incidentally, in more ways than one–and other malarkey.

Kenny, a big, jovial fellow, started plainly enough.

“What do you got planned this weekend?” he asked.

“Probably just relaxing,” I replied, “maybe going to a party.”

“Sounds fun,” he nodded.

“How about you?” I said, mindful of the reciprocal nature of small talk.

“Cutting hair,” he quipped.

I had found my go-to barber, and not only did he proffer a good haircut, but marketing insight as well. I mean, we talked about saturation and negative branding. The verdict on the Geico lizard wasn’t pretty, let me tell you.

Also, the temptation draws nigh. If it’s anything like the second one, the game itself will be monotonous. This eye candy, though, engrosses with sheer motion.