June 9,
2004
Today is the day to draw the foul.
CHECK IT OUT--AMAZON FINALLY PUT MY BOOK'S ART UP! PRETTY!
Read the bottom of this. Send me fat fiction. I'm running it tomorrow. Join in the irony! If you don't, you're a hater. A hater! Hate the fat fiction game, not the player, sucker!
Dear Zulk is Willing to Help You With Anything!
Dear Zulk,
This past Saturday morning I went to get a haircut. As usual, there were several
people ahead of me, so as I've done a dozen or so times a year for the past
half decade, I took a seat to wait my turn.
Ten minutes later, a guy came in and, rather than perusing the reading materials
and then grabbing a seat, went to the counter and wrote something on a sheet
of paper before sitting!
So I asked if the salon had added an official written waiting list, and a
woman who was ahead of me in line said that they recently had! I replied,
"Oh, I wish someone had told me or that they would put up a sign or something."
I then proceeded to go up to the counter and write my name in AHEAD of the
guy who came in after me. When my name was called ahead of his, he appeared
rather perturbed, but didn't say anything or smite me. (And his name was called
just a minute or two later, and he got a cuter stylist than I did.)
So tell me, Zulk -- Did I do wrong?
I have to tell you, I do not think you did wrong. In fact, I envy your temerity. Were it me, I would be angry about the new list policy and begrudge the guy in front of me the five minutes that would have delayed my haircut.
There are a few other ways to consider the situation:
One is the Buddha way, where you would accept the situation as presented to you, put your name after gentleman #1, sit with you hands crossed across your round, buddha belly and wait for your turn, contemplating a flower or something like that.
Another is the Larry David way, wherein you emulate an episode of "Curb Your Enthusiasm," complaining to the owner of the salon, waiting your turn, and then, when you return for your next haircut, you spot the other gentleman going in ahead of you, run up to him, push him down, and get to the counter only to realize that the salon has deceased the paper policy, per your request. Then you go home and roll around in all the money you made creating "Seinfeld."
You could also try the Doug way, which only really makes sense
if you watched the MTV show "The State," wherein you would voice
your displeasure with "I'm outta here," and stomp off to a salon
that does not employ arbitrary, b.s. rules.
So I think yours was best. Yeah, you were cool.