So. I go to get my haircut and I get a talkative haircutter person. Which I prefer, usually. Having someone silently snip things off your body is a little creepy to me. But this haircutter person was really nice and talkative. She seemed like a kind person.
I have no idea what we talked about, for the most part, because I wasn’t really paying attention. It was small talk. Which I’m not very good at. But then she noticed I was wearing this shirt that had a spoof of Star Trek’s Mr. Spock on it. I got it at woot.com. It was Mr. Spork instead of Mr. Spock. A spork in Spock’s shirt with the live longer and prosper hand signal.
Well. I think it’s funny. So sue me.
But she asks me if I’m “into” Star Trek, which, to me, seemed like a loaded question. There are lots of different levels of “into” Star Trek. So I grudgingly admit that I like Star Trek, and for some strange reason I mention that I’ve gone to a Star Trek convention.
Just one. Honest.
But for some people, that’s all it takes to consign you to the ignore column. Still, I confessed. I told her about going to the Star Trek convention.
Haircutter person: And did you wear a costume?
Me: A costume?
Haircutter person: Yeah. You know, did you dress up like a Star Trek character?
Me: (Laughing) No! No. I don’t take it quite that seriously. It was just a day out with a friend. It was mostly just people selling Star Trek stuff.
I sensed the insecurity dripping from my voice.
Me: So. Does this make me a nerd?
Haircutter person: Oh yeah. But nerds are cool. It’s just that if you wear a costume, it moves you into the realm of dork. And dork is not cool.
Me: Oh. Well that’s good to know.
Haircutter person: Yeah. Nerds are good. Nerds rule the world.
She finished cutting my hair. I gave her a big tip. Nerds are big tippers. Dorks aren’t.
Peace to you.
© LW Publishing 2010