A haircut of heartache: How a man's world fell apart in my barbershop

In my career as a barber, I’ve encountered many situations, but none quite like the one that unfolded the day before yesterday.

It was a typical day at work, and as I sat scrolling through my phone, a middle-aged man walked in, clutching a brown envelope.

Dressed in a white shirt and oversized black trousers, he seemed unfamiliar with the shop—possibly new to the neighbourhood. His weary expression suggested he was going through a tough time. As I guided him to the barber’s seat, I noticed his unease.

He sat down and placed his envelope on the table, and when I asked him about his preferred haircut, he hesitated to reply. He seemed very slow and after a long pause he said, “Just a simple haircut, not much.”

I switched on the clippers and I began trimming his hair. Although I tried to engage him with casual questions, he often looked dumbfounded, as if his mind were elsewhere. A notification chimed on his phone, and he began to reply to a text message.

His mood fluctuated, and he would fixate on one spot for a long time. With each incoming message, his sadness deepened, and soon he started to tremble. Concerned, I found myself breaking the unwritten rule of confidentiality, My curiosity getting the better of me.

Anyone familiar with barbershops or salons knows how easy it is to glance at a client's phone screen. So I focused on his phone, the text large enough for me to read. From the messages, it became clear that the man was embroiled in a confrontation with his wife.

He had lost his job a few months ago but he had hidden this from her. Every morning, he left home as if going to work, and came back in the evening with nothing to show for his day. He had been using his savings to pay school fees for their children, rent and food but eventually the funds ran out.

On that day, his wife discovered the truth, and her anger was palpable. One message read, “If you can’t take care of your family, another man will. I’m leaving with the children today, and you’ll need to find somewhere else to stay. The house is already locked.”

The man trembled as he typed a desperate plea for her not to leave, promising he would make things right. He expressed that life without her and the children felt meaningless. What struck me was his final message: “If you leave, I will be forced to do the unthinkable, and the blame will be on you.”

By the time I finished his haircut, there had been no reply from his wife. He paid me and thanked me, oblivious to the envelope he had left behind. I rushed outside, hoping to catch him before he disappeared.

He had realised his mistake and was hurrying back. I handed him the envelope, and he explained that it contained important documents for an interview—losing it would have ruined his day. I wished him well, watching him walk away, his dejection evident, until he vanished from sight.

As I returned to the barbershop, worry crept in. I may never see him again, and I had gained insight into his struggles through my accidental snooping. It felt wrong not being able to help him directly. What a situation!