I went for a haircut yesterday. A friend recommended it because it was in close proximity to the hall, yeah right; more because the cut was priced at an alluring $5. Even when we’re out of the economic recession, it doesn’t hurt to go budget once in a while, or so I thought. I had a trim a fortnight ago and since the weather was getting unusually warm, I thought I could tidy my hair up a bit.

These days, everything’s getting budget-ized, so naturally, haircuts too. I’ve visited one of those shopping malls featuring small space-cubicle like hairdressing services which cut you hair under 10 minutes; they provide good service — fast and clean — even offer you a sterilized comb when you’re done. Safe sex, safe haircut: they sterilized everything.

But I didn’t quite like the process. The cut was decent but I didn’t like what I’ve gone through. I know, it’s $5 and I shouldn’t be complaining like what most Singaporeans are best at doing.

The stylist that attended to me had this unusual sense of adulation for himself. And he did so by nitpicking at how badly my highlights were done, and emphasizing the vast difference I will notice after he was done ‘texturizing’ my hair. What is he going to do? Pull a sheepskin over my head?

Then, he was panting so heavily as though he’s just finished the Nike Human Race earlier that morning. But he didn’t fit a runner’s profile. Gauging at the amount of air he had to inhale in a millisecond, for the lack of stamina, he probably enjoyed a bowl of chips in front of his television set over the army half marathon. As a matter of fact, his panting was one of the reasons that made the entire haircut an unpleasant one. Having raved so much of his technical specialty to his customers, his breath stank like untreated sewage. Good Lord, and he had to pant like a dog.

So you can possibly imagine how victimized I was to have sat down and endure his nonsensical sales pitch. If I could reach out for that pair of scissors, I would have snip his lips off. But I recant since my hair carried a heavier stake.

Then came the ultimatum, when asked if I wanted a wash I rejected because hall was so nearby. I don’t know what made me accepted the offer but he made it sound as though it was his gesture of goodwill. So when it came to payment, I realized the wash cost as much as the haircut. I paid $10 in total, double the amount I was prepared to pay.

He must be an incarnation of a Sales Deity, I’m sure.

I felt overcharged. Poor services, mediocre haircut, lousy facilities and poor experience. It’s $5 $10, what can you expect?