hair raising tales
SAB, an employee from my former store, came in yesterday to interview with two of my managers (I had to recuse myself from the process so he could have a fair chance of getting along with the rest of the staff). I was greeted with a hearty, “What the fuck is going on with your hair?”
“I don’t know ...”
I started growing my hair out at the end of spring in order to be more presentable to prospective employers during my job hunt. I decided to keep the longer hair because I thought it was more professional than the regular self inflicted buzz cut and because I thought it would make me appear more approachable to my new staff. I’m at a crossroads and I have to make some kind of decision. Should I continue to let it grow? Should I go visit Gabriela at VSL and have her work her magic scissors? Or should I just bring out the clippers and bring it down to the nub?
“I don’t know ...”
It’s been a long time since I’ve had hair to even consider. On my first trip to Los Angeles, eleven years ago, I decided to cut off all of my hair since it looked so good on Starbucks (who I was meeting for first time). I didn’t know if I would like it, but since I was there for two weeks, I could get a jump start on growing it back if I didn’t like it.
“I liked it ... a lot!”
No fuss, no muss hair was the ticket for me. No more shampoo, no more gel, no more brushes or combs, no more expensive haircuts, and no more rollers (oops, I’m channeling my sister). I liked the jump-out-of-the-shower-and-run-out-the-door look. No more looking in the mirror to see if some strand was out of place.
“And the perks!”
All of a sudden, a different kind of man was hitting on me. It’s as if someone smeared honey on me and all types of bears came out from to woods to sniff me out. I was okay with that. I likes a bear (or a cub) every now and then. Grrrr.
“Gotta have something to play with ...”
“I don’t know ...”
I started growing my hair out at the end of spring in order to be more presentable to prospective employers during my job hunt. I decided to keep the longer hair because I thought it was more professional than the regular self inflicted buzz cut and because I thought it would make me appear more approachable to my new staff. I’m at a crossroads and I have to make some kind of decision. Should I continue to let it grow? Should I go visit Gabriela at VSL and have her work her magic scissors? Or should I just bring out the clippers and bring it down to the nub?
“I don’t know ...”
“I liked it ... a lot!”
No fuss, no muss hair was the ticket for me. No more shampoo, no more gel, no more brushes or combs, no more expensive haircuts, and no more rollers (oops, I’m channeling my sister). I liked the jump-out-of-the-shower-and-run-out-the-door look. No more looking in the mirror to see if some strand was out of place.
“And the perks!”
All of a sudden, a different kind of man was hitting on me. It’s as if someone smeared honey on me and all types of bears came out from to woods to sniff me out. I was okay with that. I likes a bear (or a cub) every now and then. Grrrr.
“Gotta have something to play with ...”
Well, I had no hair on my head, so facial experimentations were in order. I did the goatee thing, the Lincoln look, and succumbed to the soul patch, but all I ever really wanted was really cool sideburns. Unfortunately, they don’t grow or fill in like I wish they would. Joaquin Phoenix’s character in Inventing the Abbotts felt the same way, so he drew his in with a black marker. I’d do the same but we only have colored Sharpies in the house.
“So what have I decided to do?”
“We’ll see.”
No comments:
Post a Comment