[ WP ] Due to a genetic mutation , hair follicles have now been linked to pain receptors and getting a haircut is absolute agony . As a barber , describe how your life is changed and what your new role in society is .

The ringing of the bell as the front door of the little shop opened never failed to give Dave anxiety. 
 
 A tired looking young lady dressed in last year's fashions, with thick, straight, waist length chestnut hair came in, a nervous look on her face. 
 
 `` Morning, here for a trim?'' Dave asked, trying to keep up the pretence of being happy to practice his trade. `` Fuck me, look at that mane, this one wo n't be easy'', he thought as he got up from the thickly padded barber's chair, the steel buckles of the wrist and arm straps jangling as his watch strap slid over them. 
 
 `` Yeah. I just got a new job in a factory, and they told me my hair needs to be kept short.'' She smiled, but it did not disguise the fear in her eyes. 
 
 `` Well, I will do my best to have you shorn as quickly and painlessly as is possible.'' Dave said with a smile, trying to reassure her. They both knew that it would n't be quick or painless, but people have to keep up appearances. 
 
 `` Please sit down, make yourself comfortable, and sign these release forms on the x'ed lines. I'll be a few minutes getting ready,'' Dave said as he started to flick several covered toggle switches mounted on the wall. 
 
 The first switch changed the front glass of the shop from clear to opaque. The second activated a powerful mag-lock on the front door of the shop. The third piped soothing spa music to the inside of the shop, and out past the heavy sound deadening material in the walls, a loud, vibrant orchestral piece; a little sign of respect to the neighbourhood. The fourth turned on a bright red In Session sign outside the shop, to try and discourage good Samaritans from making a nusicense of themselves when the screaming started. Finally, the fifth activated the four security cameras mounted in each corner or the room, to provide an accurate record in case of any post procedure litigation that came Dave's way. 
 
 The shop being ready, Dave's three part ritual moved to the second stage; preparing himself and his equipment. He found it funny to look at pictures of barbers and stylists from the past, and see what they wore. Street clothes and smocks, Dave thought to himself as he slid the thick, black leather butcher's apron and gauntlet gloves on. Without them, Dave would n't own a stitch of clothing without vomit or blood soaked into them. 
 
 It was hard to believe how pleasant a haircut must have been fifty years ago, back before people's hair changed, and getting a hair cut off was like getting a finger cut off. Oh, the ability to grow hair did n't evolve like the hair itself did. No, no, that Damned weed still shot up from the head like there was no tomorrow. 
 
 The rich were lucky enough to be able to be put under and get electrolysis, while the poor were left to suffer the indignity and frankly, torture of monthly amputations without effective anaesthetic. It was strange to look at all the old magazines and photos of celebrities with full heads of hair; in stark contrast to the spear bald starlets of today. 
 
 The last part of Dave's pre cut ritual, as he returned to the chair, was preparing the patient. Checking that the forms were in order, Dave said to the girl, `` I have to secure you to the operating chair. It's for both your security and safety, and mine. Do you give me consent to do so?'' 
 
 The girl gave it, and Dave began to attach and tighten the heavy duty belted straps down across the patient's feet, legs, thighs, chest, forehead, arms, and wrists. 
 Once secured, Dave wheeled his table of tools over, put in a pair of earplugs, put on a pair of noise cancelling bluetooth headphones, and set to work. 
 
 Dave liked to listen to classical music while he operated. The intricate pieces made him feel full of energy, and general lack of vocals helped him concentrate on the task at hand. 
 
 Even though he was good at tuning them out, the faces his clients made never failed to surprise him while he worked. Pure, unadulterated agony, in the very literal sense of the word. It was only by being able to completely isolate himself from the noise of the room, that he was able to continue with his craft. During the roughly biannual lawsuit that would inevitably crop up, Dave, along with the rest of the courtroom would be forced to listed to view the footage from the security cameras. 
 
 The audio was by far the worst. Screaming, shouting, pleading, animal noises that no human being outside of a delivery room, battlefield, or barber shop had ever had cause to make. Sometimes they would pass out mid styling, which made things much easier for Dave. 
 
 Finishing up, the Cher hair now replaced with a simple pixie cut, Dave stepped back from the girl, putting his scissors into the tank of bactine to be disinfected. She was stronger than he expected. Sure, tears were steadily pouring down her face, and she had nearly bitten her bottom lip off trying to withstand the pain, but she had n't completely lost control like so many of Dave's customers usually did. 
 
 `` There, all done.'' Dave said, sliding the headphones off and pulling out the plugs. Usually he kept them in until the client was picked up by their friends or relatives, but this one had gone well, so he did n't figure it was needed this time. 
 
 `` Th..thanks... Looks good...'' She said shakily as Dave held up the hand mirror to show her her new look. The giant mirrors that used to grace barbershops and salons had quickly fallen by the wayside once the change occurred. 
 
 `` Who is going to pick you up? Your parents?'' Dave asked, hanging up the apron and gauntlets. 
 
 The girl nodded, and Dave moved to the bank of switches, and began to deescalate his practice. 
 
 As the fifteen year old Honda sedan pulled away from the street in front of Dave's shop, whisking the girl home to recover, Dave leaned against the shatterproof glass of his shop, a cigarette nestled between his lips, and mused. `` Another satisfied customer,'' he thought ironically. 
 
 It never got any easier. 
 

