I walked into this barbershop and saw a rack of “customer shirts” hanging by the mirror like it was some VIP experience. Apparently you’re supposed to take your own shirt off and wear one of theirs so you don’t get hair on your clothes. I just stood there imagining how many sweaty necks and dandruff storms those things have survived. They told me they “sanitize them weekly” like that was supposed to calm me down.
I asked when they were last washed and the barber shrugged. That was enough for me. I grabbed one off the rack, held it up, and asked the whole shop if anyone could confirm it wasn’t marinated in five strangers’ body heat. Everyone went quiet. So I told them straight up I’m not paying to cosplay in a communal rash blanket just to get a haircut.
I didn’t sit down. I told them I’d rather vacuum my own bathroom floor and glue the hair to my head than wear a recycled sweat rag. Walked out while they stared at me like I was dramatic. If you think that’s overreacting, fine. I’m not sharing shirts with half the city for a fade.
