Stressed at the hairdresser: badass people

"I'm sorry I'm sweating so much," I say on my chair in the barber shop, "but the woman accidentally took my keys with her, and the one for the bike was also there, and then I had to wait until she got home again, and I was already thinking about taking the subway, but then I wouldn't have been able to do it anymore, with all the traipsing around and changing trains, and she wanted to be back at half past eleven, that would have easily been enough, but in the end it was almost there ten past half, and then I had to hurry up..."

“Yeah, it doesn’t matter,” says the hairdresser. I suspect he's not really interested in any of this. I think that's a shame. After all, this is his customer's life. I think he should be interested in that. Because if something happens to him, he'll have one less customer. That's not good for business either.

“And then there were some crass people out and about,” I say, fidgeting under my hairdressing cape at the thought of what crass people were out and about. I would actually like to tell him that too. But now he wasn't interested in anything else. Maybe I'd better keep it to myself.

This aunt was picking cucumbers in front of me on the bike path. This stressed me out so much that it made me sweat even more. But also because I now had to make up for the additional delay. She rode in zigzags on a rickety Dutch bike when I was in such a hurry. She also wore huge headphones. I rang the bell the whole time, but nothing: no response.

Then I screamed, “Shit.” And again: “That’s shit, damn it.” At some point she finally kept to the right. When overtaking, I first pointed to my ear with my right hand and then did the “windshield wiper” in front of my forehead. Because I suddenly had the feeling that she wasn't from here and didn't speak German. This is the only reason for this internationally known gesture. She said “sorry”, but that came too late; she had long since crossed me.

While the hairdresser snips at my head and thick gray tufts fall like sheep's wool on the black cape, I plan, with all the calm that I didn't have in the situation, how I would have rubbed her mega-fail under her nose in English.

"Are you mad? You're taking part in street traffic here, little lady! You already know that, right?" Unfortunately, a little ageism is necessary; I don't think it's that exciting per se, but then she just remembers it better. Or would have remembered it better. It's too late for that now too.

“I know, you don’t care about other people,” I think to myself. This is meant to shame their social conscience. Which is basically a joke, because an old drone like that that goes to Asia in the winter should shut up completely once and for all, on every social topic imaginable.

No matter, she doesn't know that, so I repeat in my head, "other people, yes, you think of course, haha, I shit on other people, but, you know..." - I randomly insert a "you know" here and there because they always talk like that on TV - "... it's also dangerous for you."

Arguments like arrows. They would give her so much to think about. It's stupid that I didn't think of that before. But I'm not that good with English.

In the meantime, my head is lying on the edge of the sink like it's on an execution block while I'm washing my hair. They always behead, er, wash after cutting. It's a bit like me with my reactions.