Ethnography cont

Day 2 of Barber Shop Research:

Despite our best intentions of going in with a plan, we still managed to be really awkward upon entering the shop. It's sort of like stepping back in time when you open the door...You're immediately confronted with a solid row of mostly middle aged to elderly men in a long and narrow room replete with 1961 barber chairs. We started with an awkward introduction to the nearest barber, asking if the owner was there. The 3 barbers hardly looked up at us and between the 3 of them managed to piece together that he wasn't there, might be back tomorrow, and they thought it was a death in the family. We asked if we could sit and talk anyway, and they supposed it would be fine. We quickly shuffled to the back of the room, taking the 2 seats (with Lili crouching on the floor), and regrouping ourselves.

Fortunately, the barber near us, the youngest of the 4, was a bit friendlier and more willing to talk. Lili boldly asked him questions about how long he had been there (a year), where he had worked before (another shop in town), and if it was his favorite place to work. We also got that the shop opened in 1988. He supposed it was (since it was a good, convenient place to work.) We also asked his client if he was really happy with how he got his hair cut, and it first he said nothing, but finally he wryly cracked a joke that he wasn't going to say a word with a razor so close to his ears.

After a little while, the tension melted away a bit, and the man next to us got really chatty. He was there with his 4 year old grandson, an adorable boy named Ryan with platinum blonde hair. Ryan refused to talk to us at all, instead hanging his head down the entire time. Bob, his grandpa, however, actually wanted to talk to us. He told us how he had gone there for, I believe, over 10 years, since it's convenient and they do a good job. "We're not like you girls," he said. "We just get a little off the top, that's all we need." Upon my remark that $11 was a really good price for a haircut but seemed like inflation from prices in years past, he said, "My wife pays $75. I told her I got mine for 5." He also talked about how he and his wife had grown up in Temple, that they moved to Pflugerville and then Georgetown, that his kids had gone to Georgetown High School, that Ryan's dad was in Minnesota working on putting together wind turbines. When he wanted to make comments about sports (usually when we had lulled into silence), he almost always directed it to our Ryan, an interesting gender note.

When Bob wanted to ask me a question and I wasn't looking, he would just kind of lightly whack my shoulder. His gaze and demeanor were somewhat unnerving, but that is my own inherent nervousness. He behaved and spoke much like many other 40s generation Texas men I know. Slight accent, saying things such as "golly," "you know what he said, he said..." and that somewhat gruff but friendly body language that most of the men in the shop displayed, moreso an affectation of age than anything.

Another man next to our Ryan was also pretty chatty. His reasoning for going to the shop for 11-13 years (he couldn't remember, but it was after he out of the military) was that it was convenient but also that they were the only shop he knew of that still shaved necks, in particular with a single blade razor. That was a good point for he and Ryan to wax nostalgic on. He also appreciated that they took their time. He was pretty sure that Ken, the oldest barber, had been there "forever," which seemed like a true statement based on the long line of men waiting for him. Bob had pointed out that they take numbers when they walk in the door, no need for appointments, and just wait for their number. Many men, however, would skip their turn in order to wait for a specific barber. Not as many wanted the newest guy.

It was very interesting to watch the almost therapeutic trance the men went into while getting their neck lathered (by warm shaving cream from the electric warmer and dispenser that I remarked on so delightedly, thus prompting a round of exclamations of appreciation by the men) or the back of their heads buzzed. The ambiance was cozy, and it actually seemed like they got used to us being there. I was hoping that would happen, so it was nice. There is a good vibe in the shop, so I can see what keeps the men coming back.

As we walked out, we said we'd see them tomorrow, and they actually very pleasantly said good bye and smiled and seemed perfectly fine with our imminent return.