Barrette

I’m behind the bar, NOT serving drinks, teenagers galore, pouring water. Whatever. I can sit back and observe the glory that is the bar.

I’m watching the band. Music’s all right, I got no problem with it, sixteen year-old girls are going berserkers for it, they’re loving it, I only have one minor problem.

The lead singer keeps on fixing his hair.

I’m watching, and literally every 12 seconds, the guy moves his hair over to the side. He’s got longish hair, so when he’s “rocking out”, his hair gets in his face. Therefore, he’s gotta get it out of his face, therefore, he fixes said hair, every 12 seconds. I’m serious. I time it. In between fixes. 12 seconds is the average.

A buddy of mine comes behind the bar, I tell him. Dude, watch the lead singer. He’s constantly fixing his hair. We watch. Wait for it, I say. Boom! He does it. My buddy laughs, we hi-five.

Oh shit, dude. My buddy says. Totally called it. I say, I told you.

I see the singer later on, I tell him, could I talk to you for a second?  He says, sure. I say, watched your band, you guys were great, crowd was way into it, I just have one note for you. He says, ok. What’s that?  Well…you fix your hair too much when you’re onstage. He goes, yeah, I know. If I don’t move my hair, it goes in my mouth, and I want to puke. Ok, I say. That’s a problem, then. You don’t want to puke.  What about a barrette? I say.  He says, I try hats, but I lose them, somebody takes it.  So I’m like, you can’t keep fixing your hair. It’s too distracting. Whether the audience notices or not, they will on a subconscious level, and it’ll take them out of it. He says, yeah. I should just cut it. Maybe I’m just jealous, I say. Look at me. He laughs. You have to train yourself not to do it. At the end of the song, turn your back to the audience, then fix it. Anyway, it’s sexy if you got your hair in your face.

I say, my name’s Clint. He says his name, we shake.  He says, thanks, man. Really appreciate it.

From my heart to yours,

Clint Curtis. Bartender.

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