LYNDEN, Washington — You wouldn’t think getting a haircut
could affect your opinion of a presidential candidate. Yet that’s
what occurred to your humble but no longer quite so shaggy scribe
last week. I went in for a trim and shampoo and came out with that
silky fresh smell, and sympathy for Mitt Romney.
No, this has nothing to do with his very Mormon hair.
Romney is in pitched battle with Newt Gingrich and the terrain is
populism. Gingrich’s people have dusted off Ted Kennedy’s old
anti-Bain Capital campaign to paint Romney as a ruthless
capitalist, itching to fire people to improve his bottom line. One
alleged Romney misstatement came from his speech to the Nashua, New
Hampshire Chamber of commerce. Romney said, “I like being able to
fire people who provide services to me.”
He was speaking of health insurance companies, not the
butler, the maid, or the secretary. Critics pounced anyway, and the
press didn’t do him any favors. The ABCNews.com non-parody headline
reads, “Romney Likes ‘Being Able to Fire People.’” Romney was
contrasting a free market in health insurance with one that is
substantially controlled by the government. Being a businessman, he
elaborated, “You know, if someone doesn’t give me a good service
that I need, I want to say I’m going to go get someone else to
provide that service for me.”
This earnest, commonsensical point came to mind Sunday as
I was driving a wee bit over the speed limit toward nearby
Bellingham. It snowed in all of western Washington and the place I
normally go to get my hair cut was closed due to weather the two
times I had showed up during the week.
The first time it was closed, I shrugged, hiked across the
parking lot toward the McDonald’s to get some work done with the
free wifi and fell pretty hard on the slick pavement. The second
time, the snow was mostly melted, but Great Clips was still closed.
So I came back Sunday, before 4, and found that it closes at 3.
Three trips to get a haircut was too much trouble, so I took
off.
I found a salon in Bellingham that was still open, put my
name in the queue, and read a book while I waited. The wait proved
well worth it, for entertainment value alone. The twentysomething
girl who cut my hair, who we’ll call Sherry, chatted as she buzzed
and snipped away and fretted over my cowlicks.
One of the many things Sherry told me was a story about an
argument with her boyfriend. He doesn’t want to cut his own
toenails and they end up fighting over who has to do it. “He says
‘Either you do it or they aren’t going to get clipped,’” she told
me. “It’s ridiculous!” She thought about it for a few seconds and
revised her remarks, “Then again, he gives me his paycheck, I clip
his nails. Maybe it’s a fair trade.”
When it was time to pay at the counter, Sherry tried to
give me on a punch card, one that gives you a free cut after so
many trips. Normally, I say no to such things because, odds are,
it’ll get lost somewhere. But this time I said, what the heck. I
had to go somewhere to get my hair cut, perhaps I’d come back here.
She smiled and threw in the shampoo for free.
Now, maybe I’ll go back and maybe I won’t. It was more of
a drive than Great Clips, but it was also more amusing, the cut was
good, the price was $1 north or south of the usual fee-for-haircut,
and the salon was actually open in my hour of filamental need.
That’s all the “good service” I was looking for.
Great Clips,
you’re fired.
