In the opening remark of “Haircut,” the playwright emphasizes that it doesn’t make much difference whether the main character will cut one client’s hair during the course of the action, or whether different people will replace each other in his chair. All this does not matter, because the hairdresser has reached that critical phase when he simply needs to speak out in order to voice, first of all, long-overdue thoughts for himself: “You know, until I was forty years old, I suffered from my character, from the fact that he is not like that, as I would like... Until I was forty years old, I struggled with my character, I thought that I would break myself, and life would go differently. And at the age of 40 I realized that there would be no other life. It is what it is. And as soon as I got to this point, I stopped fighting my character, and began to admire it. With my character, my life... “Look,” I think, “a woman left me, and I’m okay.” I even got myself interested.” The hero’s psychological reflection is interjected with both his self-irony and his desire to make fun of those around him (silent clients).