All my favorite barbers have one thing in common. They don’t fucking talk to me while I’m getting my haircut. Seriously, fuck all the extroverted shitheads who can’t go 5 minutes without conversation and put this expectation on jobs like haircutters or dentists where they need to engage in the most meaningless small talk ever.

Fuck. That. The extent of conversation that needs to happen during a haircut is me telling them how I want it cut, and then thanking them afterwards. That’s it. I do not want to talk about my day. I do not want to talk about my job. I do not want to talk about my life. I’m not there to fucking socialize, I’m there to get my haircut. Shut the hell up and let me disassociate during the time I am stuck in the chair.

Verified British experience.

Over-tip on the way out, even though we don’t really tip for anything else. Nah mate, keep the change.

Scuttle off whilst still putting your coat on.

Credit to Stephen Collins on Shitter