Oh HELLLLLL no.

Just went over to the Cuttery in Harvard Square, formerly Great Cuts or Super Cuts or CheapAss cuts, whatever you want to call them. You see, it's a beautiful, warm, sunny, early-spring day here in Cambridge, and I thought I'd go over on my lunch break and get a couple of inches of dry, winter-blow-dry damage cut off. My yearly haircut, don't you know.

I can go to cheap ass places, because my hair is long and straight and all I ever do is have someone chop an inch off at the ends. A chimp with half a year of beauty school can do that, right?
Wellllll....FELLAS! Things are not going so great at the old cheapass hair cuttery in Harvard Square today, let me tell you. Perhaps they need to hire some chimps, because these chicks ain't cutting it. (Sorry, had to.)

First, there's no one in the place but the girl at the front desk taking names, and two forlorn looking Asian guys in the waiting area, waiting for their names to be called.
I think - "Donner, party of two? Oh well, okay, someone's bound to come back from break soon and attend to these guys, won't be long, they won't want anything complicated, just their monthly trim, and I'll be in and out of here in no time."

So I sit. All is quiet. I flip through a magazine for a few minutes before turning to the two other waiting customers and say "yeah...not liking the work ethic so far, huh? ha ha ha"

First guy: "I've been here 20 minutes."

Second guy: "I've been here 10."

Hmmmmm....things are not looking good for me and my split ends...

I wait a few more minutes. The front desk girl goes in the back and I think "okay, she's going to get someone to come out here and do some work, this'll be good."

....But she comes out a minute later. Alone. Door to the back closes again.

Customers keep waiting. I'm thinking - "Right, patience is waning, but I need this haircut and won't get another chance for a while - might as well stick it out."

Then...out they come. How do I put this nicely? I know, lie. They were two lovely, young, professional hair-cutting ladies. That'll work.

I will call them "Shaniqua" and "Shanaynay," and they are clearly having some type of row. No idea what it's about, but they made no attempts to hide it, and I bet they'll duke it out after work. They were all, "Stop gettin' all up in my face," and "Wha'Evva, Wha'Evva," and "oh no, you DI'int."

Ummmm...no.

Just fucking No. I just walked out, came back here to type this.

I'm all for letting a chimp with half a year's beauty school training cut my hair, if it's cheap enough and he gets the job done. But I am NOT letting one of these angry wee gutter snipes anywhere near me with scissors. I'm tight with my cash, but I'm no dope. I wanted someone to cut my hair, not cut me. (Again, sorry.)
Fucking hell.