Yesterday morning, on the way to work I dropped into one of the local barbers to get my hair cut. Little did I know that I would get to meet perhaps the most entertaining person to ever cut my hair.
Before starting, it’s worth pointing out that this particular barber shop is populated almost exclusively by good looking girls - a crafty bit of social engineering to hopefully snag the sizeable single guy market. Before you start judging me, I go there because it’s the cheapest haircut in town. W once convinced me to get a “proper haircut” in a salon in town, and it cost three times as much.
I know, I know. I shouldn’t complain - women the world over pay more for haircuts, razor blades, toiletries… the world IS changing though - as evidenced by the multitude of male skincare products now available. Who knew I was supposed to have soft hands, and perfect cuticles ?
I digress.
The girl cutting my hair was a pretty young thing - probably working in her first job out of college, and quite proud to actually be cutting hair rather than sweeping up or making coffees. The mirror at her station was bedecked in birthday banners, which prompted the start of our conversation / odyssey…
“Is it your birthday ?”
This prompted the beginning of a monologue where I learned about the planned celebration that was to have happened on Friday night, and that it had not happened due to her best friend’s boyfriend liking her, and therefore being banned from being out at the same time as her, and it all becoming far too complicated for me to understand.
After doing a wide ranging character assassination of her “best friend” while I murmered knowing sounds, she eventually ran out of steam, and her attention turned to me.
“So what do you do then?”
“I’m a software and web developer”
“Blimey - is that like to do with computers ?”
“Yes - I make websites - stuff like that”
“Oh, that’s that internet thing, isn’t it - I’ve got a computer on the internet, but it doesn’t work - it just comes up with a load of white writing when you switch it on - do you think you might know what might be wrong with it ?”
At this point I realised I was being sucked into the inevitable “can you fix it” conversation, and started making very careful comments. Unfortunately (being the kind of person I am) I also started to think through what might be wrong with the computer.
“When did you last use it ?”
“Oh… not that long ago. Oh… Hmmm… well, actually, maybe a year ago?”
“Did you buy it new, or second hand ?”
“New - but you know - I’m not sure, because there’s no big badge or anything on it. I bought it from a [insert ethnic minority] shop in [insert run down part of town]. I’ve been done, haven’t I…”
“Possibly… what’s probably happened is the insides of the computer are pretty old, and a little battery inside that keeps it’s memory for things like the time has gone flat. It costs pence to fix. Do you have any geeky friends that could do it?”
“No. I’ve been done, haven’t I. I wonder if I can get my money back ?”
I tried to avoid contributing to her monologue any further on the subject. Eventually she returned to the internet, and how she might be able to use it.
“I get the television off my neighbour’s telly - can I do the same with the internet - is that allowed ? I could offer to pay them half or something”
The entire conversation was an eye opener. A glimpse into the world of those who don’t know - a reminder that for all the people I know who own and use computers as a tool every day, there are many more people who have never owned one - who do not use or even have access to the internet.
I talked to the girl about the internet workstations available in most cafes and libraries, and her eyes opened wide - she had never noticed them, let alone used them.
It would be all too easy to make fun of the girl that cut my hair. Instead I walked from the barbers suitably chastened in my appreciation for the technology I take advantage of each and every day. I am able to communicate with people anywhere in the world immediately - to take a photograph and have it appear in front of somebody in Timbuktu within seconds. I can write software and websites on the road. I can write letters, update project plans, and a million other things - all of which would have been unthinkable even 10 years ago.