I got a haircut today. (It feels glorious, by the way.) Everyone at the place I go to knows me and remembers very specific details about me. The manager was cutting my hair today, and she remembered that not only was I going to get a ceiling fan installed, but that I wasn't sure if I was going to do it myself or not because it was in the stairwell and would potentially be more complicated than a regular installation. She remembers that I like sci-fi and fantasy movies, and asked me if I had seen Iron Man and Indiana Jones yet. She remembers exactly how I like my hair cut, and I don't even remember her name. (In fairness there, their system displays my name on their screen, and they don't wear nametags.)
For a person with poor memory, this is both impressive and a little bit creepy. I have trouble recalling details like those about a lot of my friends, let alone people who cut my hair. Now, I'm willing to admit that I might be more distinct than their other customers; I've been going there for most of my haircuts in the past four years, and I'm the only one who rides there on a Segway. It's still a little weird to me, though, to have people I don't know remember those sorts of minutiae.
Currently listening: Morcheeba—Antidote