Yesterday was a first: The boss at the barbershop that’s a ten-minute walk from my house gave me an appointment. I may have postponed my haircut once or twice before when it was exceptionally busy, but nine out of ten times, I walk into the place, sit down for a bit, then get serviced. Even the time he suggested shows their can-do attitude: “Can you come back in an hour?” Yup, still got my hairdo sorted!
This kind of barbershop is slowly becoming the typical barbershop in Munich: run by a bunch of Eastern European guys—I’m still trying to figuring out if they’re speaking Turkish or something else—always a few friends hanging around, but also as productive as an assembly line. There are no delays, no schmoozing, no upsells for fancy shampoo. It’s sit in the chair, get cut, next—which, for someone trying to get a haircut and only a haircut, is fantastic!
Yesterday, in my brief waiting time sitting on the same fake leather couch as always, the one that seems to want to swallow me for lunch, I properly looked around the place for the first time. It’s a single, rectangular room with gray walls. LED light tubes line the ceiling in a honeycomb pattern, which extends itself to the mirrors of the four cutting stations as well as some of the shelves. The interior mostly consists of fake dark wood with some fake gold trim here and there. Throw in a bunch of decorative metal signs, framed individual photographs, and a few art pieces, like a mini propeller, lion head paper cut, and a clock—all in steampunk style, of course—and you have it: the just-do-it barbershop.
The photographs, in particular, caught my eye. They weren’t photos of the owner, famous clients, or even his friends. They were basically stock images. All black-and-white, mind you, but still. Some were more artsy, others showed old-school barber equipment. There must have been at least 20 of them, and it made me wonder: “How much time did they spend setting this shop up?” I imagined the guy flicking through some pics online, just going with his gut: “That one. And that one. And that one.” Then, I saw him firing up the printer, quickly framing them, and sticking them onto the wall. Heck, now that I’m thinking about it, he might have just bought those frames online, completely finished with the pics!
I mused a bit more about how much time they took to decide on the setup of the place, and how long the renovations actually ended up taking them. Contrary to what it may sound like, however, it wasn’t from a position of condescension that I made my assessment. To my own surprise, rather than scolding the team for a rushed job, in my imagination, I applauded them for quickly making a whole bunch of good-enough decisions. “You know what? They’re probably right! Who needs six months to decorate a barbershop? It’s a barbershop! The sooner you can cut hair, the better.”
Ultimately, I realized the way the shop had been put together perfectly reflected the attitude of the people making it come to life. That attitude is worth emulating not just in their line of business but in most of life to begin with: Just do it. Pick the decor, open the shop, and get to the actual work. Then, keep doing it. And if that’s becoming the typical barbershop in Munich and beyond, I’m all for it.
Appointment needed or not, somehow, I’m already looking forward to my next haircut.
