Do I look like I can handle scissors?

Summary

Oscar, a man who dislikes public interactions, navigates through various social situations while getting a haircut and shopping, reflecting on his preference for solitude and contemplating whether he might be a high-functioning sociopath.

Abstract

The narrative follows Oscar, a character who intensely dislikes being approached or engaged in conversation by strangers in public places. He strategizes to avoid interactions, such as dodging brochure dealers at the mall and wishing for silence from his barber. Despite his efforts to appear unapproachable, he encounters a chatty cashier at a supermarket who comments on the total of his purchase, triggering his frustration. Oscar finds solace in the idea that he might be a high-functioning sociopath, similar to Sherlock Holmes, as a way to rationalize his aversion to social interactions. By the end of his day, after a haircut and grocery shopping, he feels tired and annoyed but is slightly comforted by his new haircut and a chocolate bar.

Opinions

Oscar harbors a strong dislike for unnecessary public interactions, considering them a nuisance.
He believes that his demeanor should signal to others to leave him alone, indicating a desire for privacy and personal space.
Oscar feels misunderstood by those around him, as his attempts to avoid conversation are often ignored.
He identifies with the character Sherlock Holmes, contemplating whether he too might be a high-functioning sociopath, as a means to understand his own behavior.
Despite his irritation with social interactions, Oscar shows a capacity for self-reflection and a sense of humor about his situation.
The narrative suggests that Oscar's experiences are relatable to those who feel overwhelmed by the social demands of everyday life.

A short story about an urge to be left alone

“Are you working in IT?”

I hate you, thought Oscar but mumbled a nondescript answer. He thought he got it right this time. The barber looked like the quiet type, the kind that doesn’t bother his customers with annoying questions. And now this. Am I in IT? What do I look like, a professional basketball player? A monk? And in this city, where the only people not in IT are, well, hairdressers. Do I look like I can handle scissors? Would you let me cut your hair?

Some people considered talking in public the worst possible thing. For Oscar it was the other way around: he loathed people who talked to him in public. He tried finding the particular facial expression that would tell everybody to stay away from him. He tried devising strategies to avoid those troublesome people who attempted to share their brochures with him or ask him to sign this petition or the other when he went through the shopping mall, dodging everyone around him.

A deceiving feint was the most efficient way: you went inside a stream of people whom the brochure dealer was waiting for, distributing a flier to all who went by. Once near him, you took one step to the left and then abruptly changed direction and passed behind him. In your mind, you could almost see Zlatan clapping his hands slowly in appreciation. One more annoyance was avoided successfully.

Oscar thought that the hairdresser perhaps got the note now and understood that his patient was not susceptible to further discussions, as he just cut his hair systematically while humming a high-pitched tune in a language Oscar did not understand. His thoughts wandered instead to the cashier at the supermarket.

“That’s 499 crowns dear, one more, dear, and you would get yourself a nice round number. Off by one crown dear!”

Oscar’s brains were on fire. Why oh why, after seeing his I’m not interested impression, was she telling him this nonsense? He’s been to this store so many times before and never spoke a word to her. She must have noticed he was ignoring her, right? Didn’t she remember him after all this time? Was she treating all of her customers the same way? Faith was playing a nasty game on him, he knew that. He looked carefully before queuing to this checkout, to be certain it was not her sitting there. Then, when it was almost his turn, the shift changed and the current, not-asking-stupid-questions cashier, was replaced by this dreadful person. Oscar wanted to strangle her but instead tried a facial expression that could, with some difficulties, be considered as a moderate smile.

“I’m not a psychopath, I’m a high functioning sociopath. Do your research.”¹

That’s what Sherlock once told Andersson. Oscar was not a genius, he knew that, but perhaps he also suffered from the same condition? Why was he trying to avoid people otherwise? And why didn’t people understand that he was trying to avoid them?

The hairdresser was finally done. He took up a mirror and showed him the backside of his head. Oscar nodded, indicating that he was satisfied with the result. He then paid the barber, took his groceries, and started walking towards the mall’s exit.

He was hungry and remembered that he actually bought himself a chocolate bar and found it staring at him from the top of his shopping bag, calling him, enticing him to eat it.

By the time he went out of the shopping mall, Oscar was no longer a high-functioning sociopath. Just a tired, annoyed person, slightly less hungry, with a stylish haircut.

[1] Sherlock, BBC tv series (2011), S1.Ep1: A Study in Pink