Getting a haircut is the most awkward time of social interaction for me. Normally, I can shoot the shit about anything and feel fine about knowing that I am a master of vapidity and meaningless bullshit.
Not when someone's cutting my hair, though.
Barber: What kind of cut you want?
Me: Uh, you know, I brush it to the side so just a cut so I can do it.
B: What size?
M: What? I don't know.
B: Okay. You use product?
B: Gel, hairspray... product.
M: Uh, no.
B: What do you do?
M: Uh... I'm a writer.
B: You voting for Bernie Sanders?