A Hairy Tale (OMG Get it???)

i don't exactly know how to make my face say, "i'm aware i look like a crazed fourteen year-old." but that's me trying on the left.

i also don't exactly know how to cut hair.

i know how. i just don't know how to cut it if the sentence has to end with "well".

anyway, i chopped of a solid five or nine inches in hopes to do better in the world of interviews. i never thought i'd do that. but i never thought i'd fail four interviews in a row.

and hey, at least despite looking like a deranged prepubescent teenager, my horrible ears still remain elusive in their tangled jungle of protection.

but just as soon as my hair was cut away, i landed a job.

and it's an interesting thing-- the world, i mean-- the assumptions we like to make are goofier than the haircuts we hate to give. (by "we" i mean just "me")

see, i want to sit here and type about how SOCIETY prejudges men with long hair and deems them drug-addicts well before ever listening to their thoughts. i want to blame that misconception for my lack of job-finding success.

but i'd be lying if i did.

sure i got a job the day after getting a haircut. and sure i failed the four interviews before the haircut. but that's not exactly a science. i've gotten plenty of other jobs with long hair.

i thought i should share this conversation with you:

"i like that you were early to work," my new boss explained, "i cannot stand people who are late even a little."

"don't worry," i said, "ten years ago i was fired for having long hair. they had written me up for a 'severely delinquent haircut' over and over, and made me promise to get a better haircut by my next paycheck."

oh, that cursed winchester mystery house and their hair-hating ways.

"your hair is fine," he cut me off, "i'm talking about people who show up thirty minutes late and think it's okay."

"no, no," i explained, "my hair is why they fired me. the fact i was one minute late is how they fired me. i had never been written up for attendance, nor had i been warned of the consequence of one minute. it only came up after i refused to cut my hair. it's a safe way to legally fire someone you don't like. so now i'm never late. ever. i'm thirty minutes early everywhere."

i do owe that haunted mansion a form of thank you for teaching me very quickly that every job has a series of loopholes that you may want to study during your spare time. nowadays, i'm almost too aware of what i can and cannot do within a work place. but i've also got an immaculate attendance record.

"well," he said laughing, "let me tell you this: there was once a kid with extremely long hair who came into our office and asked for a job. i told him, 'you know what? i'm going to hire you just because i love your hair. don't cut it and you have a job!' and he turned out to be one our best workers. i remember when he finally cut his hair, we were all so sad. everyone loved his hair-- he was like the face of the company."

"did you fire him when he cut it?"

"no, but i should've."

while i doubt my boss hired anyone solely based on the length of his hair, i was excited to hear the story. and i was doubly excited to hear that one of the best workers had long hair. i've always tried to be the absolute best i can at every job so that the greater public might eventually stop thinking we're all morons.

you could argue that some of my unprofessional ways of leaving jobs might've hurt the long-haired men community. but shoot. i'm still human and short-haired people do it, too.

so as much as i'd love to hate the world and claim i got this job because i finally cut my hair, i can't. i got this job because... actually, i'm still not sure how it all happened and why the concierge story didn't ruin my shot.

but it wasn't hair-related.

the end.