What you see is not always what you get?

It was time for me to go get my haircut.  Not many more years remain for this ritual, with my hair rapidly thinning out.  I can even feel that there is not much on top because it doesn't seem like it is raindrops falling on my head, but more like pebbles being thrown at me from above by some impish angels!

Being short on dollars these days, I sometimes think that maybe I should try cutting my own hair, like how Gandhi experimented in his early attempts to understand self-reliance.  Anyway, the inexpensive place that I go to was crowded; of course! There is no question of making appointments there--you go and wait your turn.  Not that I have anything pressing to do, but waiting for a haircut is something that I can't seem to tolerate a lot.

So, off to the more expensive place.

I was tempted to ask the girl at the front desk about the charge for a shave versus for a haircut.  You know, that old joke: a guy asks the barber what the rates are.  The barber says, "five dollars for a shave and fifteen for a haircut."  The guy then says, "ok, shave my head off."

But, I resisted that urge to joke.  Successfully.  Especially because there is no shave at this place and the lame joke would have fallen even flatter.

The early-thirtyish woman who led me to her corner of the business wore one of the highest heels I have ever seen, other than in movies or photos.  And hot-pink shoes at that.

"I am all slippin' and slidin' while walkin'" she exclaimed to her colleagues, and I decided to give more gap between us as we walked.

As the process got underway, I knew what was coming.  Questions about what I do, about my family, the weather, the dogs, ... that is one reason why I postpone getting a haircut as much as possible.  The service providers want to engage in chit-chat, while I feel trapped in the chair.  They might as well serve me my final meal and flip the switch on!

Polite as I am, I reply, but clearly indicating that I am not interested in a whole lot of talking.  Meanwhile, she is having a couple of parallel conversations with other colleagues who are working on their own clients' heads.  I am always amazed at this--I have enough trouble keeping track of one conversation, and these women have simultaneous conversations with a gazillion others!

"I like your shoes" one says, to which my hairdresser replies, "thanks; I want to make sure I am comfortable in this before I take it with me to Cambodia."

Now my ears get more attentive. Cambodia?  Not often does one hear about Cambodia.  The odds are pretty good that she is going there for some volunteer work, I thought to myself.  Perhaps through her church, too.  When my neighbor went to Mali a few years ago, it was through his church.  Otherwise, come on, how many people do we run into in our lives who declare they are headed to Mali for a vacation?

"I will be taking my flats too" she continued.

When it seemed like a break in that conversation, I chipped in. "So, when are you leaving for Cambodia?"

"In two weeks."

"Cool!  What's taking you to Cambodia?"

She is going there because she is committed to helping out victims of sex-trafficking.  And, yes, through her church.  She will go there to teach those girls and young women hairdressing as a vocational skill.  And also help them transition away from illegal drugs.

All that is hard work.  Emotionally tough work.  It is incredibly easy for me to write analytically about any of the global problems, and express my outrage.  Righteous indignation!  Armchair philosophizing is all I do. People like her, on the other hand, take it as their responsibility to actually do something.  Sure, there is an evangelical aspect to that work; but, if she doesn't go, it is not as if I am all set to go work there with the victims of sex-trafficking, right?

I am back home blogging about it; I do have to ask myself what good does this act of mine accomplish!