I know you don't care, I know you are miserable, and I know this wasn't the job you dreamed of as a kid. I understand that. However, I care, and I have to live with the consequences of your apathy. I know you get what you pay for, but if I shell out $13, I expect a halfway decent haircut. All I ask is that you please respect these few things…

1. When I say an inch, I mean an inch.

The last time I checked, an inch is 2.54 cm, it is not "whatever the hell you feel like cutting off." I know there are no hash marks on your stubby fingers, but come on. Inches are everywhere. Obviously I don't expect you to be perfect, but when I say an inch, and you give me a 4th grade summer buzz cut, then we have a problem. This isn't Play-Doh Mop Top Hair Shop—you can't just cut away and expect some new hair to shoot out of my head. This is real hair, on a real person, and it takes a long fucking time to grow back.

2. Please do not make small talk.

Supercuts logo on a NASCAR race car
There's a reason every redneck has the same shitty haircut. And it's hurtling toward you at 188 mph.
You've made it pretty clear already: you don't giving a flying fuck about my physical appearance…why the hell would I want to talk to you about my plans for the weekend? I'll tell you what I'm doing this weekend, I'm probably making a 3-hour drive back home to my mom's hair dresser to try and fix this disaster you call a haircut. The last thing I want to do is talk to you and further distract you while you continue to butcher my hair.

No, I don't care about your 10 cats; no, I don't care about your god forsaken kids; and no, I don't care that your husband's probably cheating on you. All I care about is the fact that you are in the process of giving me a chili bowl and I'm too much of a pussy to confront you about it.

3. Of course I want sideburns.

As this haircut from hell is finally coming to end, you go off and do the unthinkable. You proceed to chop off the only natural looking thing I have left going for me: my fucking sideburns.

You presumptuous bitch! How dare you! As if you haven't made me look like an asshole enough, you go and turn me into an asshole with no sideburns. That's it. I'm getting out of here before you shave a Nike swoosh into the back of my head.