Slaves to Habit

We truly are creatures of habit. Or at least, I am. Here it is, Friday afternoon before Pesach, and I am waiting on line at the barber shop. Now you may not think this is such a big deal, but you have to realize that I am in the mall, where the barbershop has around 15-20 barbers. Most of them are just hanging around waiting for customers, and aggressively accosting those waiting for a specific barber. So if you are not particular about the way you get you hair cut, you can be in and out in about fifteen minutes.

Alas, I am not one of those people. I generally don't care about my basic appearance. (Much to the chagrin of my family, mother and one sister in particular). And I usually push off my haircut two to three weeks longer than I should, but I am rather picky when it comes to my haircut.

For years after I moved to Rockland, I would go back to my barber in the city, at great inconvenience to myself. Eventually, when that got too onerous, I tried out different barbers at the mall's shop until I found one I really like ( I am not giving you his name, because then I will have to wait even longer!)

Once I found the one I like, I won't go to any of the other barbers, even as I watch people streaming in and out.

One of the problems with this barber is two or three generations come together, and they all want to use him. He once told me that he rarely needs to wait for a customer, because of his popularity with his regulars.

However, I believe I come by this naturally, as I know other people who claim NOT to be creatures of habit, who still use a barber that we are convinced can no longer see the hair, much less cut it in a straight line. This is only one manifestation of the syndrome, there are other signs, but since they are always denied when I point them out, I will not elaborate here.

This is a long post, (and all done on a blackberry yet!) but so is the line. Its my turn now, so I will stop here.