Change…change is the worst. I used to have the PERFECT hair salon, just around the corner, always open for walk-ins and run by the nicest, chattiest guy in existence. Everyone loved Alfonso, even really grumpy people, and I should know because I’m VERY grumpy. Alfonso always got me in a good mood, which became an even better mood when I saw what he’d done with my hair because he was some kind of clipper wizard.
And now, he’s gone. Back to Moldova to deal with over a hundred charges of identity theft and embezzlement, and here’s me in need of a haircut. Somewhere NEW. A place I haven’t been to before. Some hair salon open in the Melbourne CBD populated by people who aren’t Alfonso. I suppose this had to happen eventually; Alfonso bore it well, but he always looked about 98. Kinda surprised that he could see what he was cutting, and I’m even more surprised at how many charges he’s facing back in his home country. Yeah, he’s definitely going to die in prison, but more importantly, I have a very finicky scalp and I need a hairdresser who understands that. Maybe I should bring in my own hair oils; Alfonso always knew the exact ones to use to get the best results. Also, it might be best to bring in the exact brand of razor that Alfonso used, because at this point I don’t know if I can get used to the buzz of a differently-branded razor. What WAS the brand? It was always being used on my head and I had no reason to think that Alfonso was going anywhere, so I never paid any attention. Gah, curse you Alfonso! Why did you have to commit such a great number of heinous crimes!
Now I need to hit the phonebook and find the best hair salon in the Melbourne CBD, because if I’m going in there for coffee every day, I can at least to a bit of research. Peer in the window, see what brand of razor they use, see if their conversations look fulfilling…you know, just generally compare them to Alfonso.