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The November issue of Esquire went around endorsing things that don’t normally get endorsed. I thought it was a particularly cool idea when I finally started reading it early last week (thanks for nothing, TV and two jobs). One endorsement in particular was excessively and stereotypically Esquire and, perhaps unsurprisingly, simultaneously brilliant. One of the copy editors (i.e. possibly me in the future) decided to endorse becoming a regular somewhere. Didn’t seem to matter what you were doing, what kind of shop, shoppe, store, bar, or locale it was as long as someone started to expect you.

I found that a particularly cool idea and do even more so now after discovering that I’m a regular earlier this afternoon at the place where I get my hair cut.

I was literally walking down the street to the place I’ve been going to since I moved here and I saw the my barber’s face in the window. He smiled and next thing I know, he was gone. I went inside and he was waiting for me down by his chair. I put my stuff down and he didn’t even bother to ask how I wanted my hair cut, he just whipped out an electric razor and started shaving. He double-checked on the sideburn length and made sure that I still didn’t want it “too short on top, yes?” When I affirmed that, indeed, I would not find it pleasurable to have my hair too short on top, he continued with the electric razor, gave me 30 snips (literally 30–I made sure to count so I wouldn’t embellish at a later date) with his scissors on the sides and finished in record time. I gave him a 10 and a 5 and proceeded to walk out since I have always given him a three dollar tip on a twelve dollar haircut. While I put my coat back on, he said, “Thank you, see you in a couple of weeks” while we both flashed overly cliched ear-to-ear grins.

Thus, Esquire remains right about yet another thing. Let me put it this way: If you can become a regular at some place of your own, I can only hope that it gives you as much joy as it gives me and Ben Cake, Associate Copy Editor for Esquire. Deep down inside I think we all wish we had some place where everyone knows your name. Also, Esquire was right about “Rule No. 187: More bocce.”


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