All's Hair In Love And War

A new years resolution for most people is to lose that extra weight, quit smoking or, like me, find a new job. A goal, an ambition, thrown out into the year ahead like a huge, shiny dog bone for you to chase. It's something that, initially seems nearly impossible, and that's how it should be. It should be something you can't see at first. It should be a challenge that puts a strain on the human condition. I'm not sure Alex understood what a new years resolution was.

 

'I'm going to marry Fran.' I smiled at me.

'I know. You've set a date and everything. But what's your new years resolution?'

'That.'

'It should be a challenge. The only challenge you've come across is booking Steve's cousin as a DJ. And that's only because he lives down south.'

'We'll get him.'

Well good luck, Alex. Mind you, I know several men who consider marrying a woman and quitting cigarettes to be as painful as each other. Just ask my Uncle Cecil, he lives with a bloke called Graham now.

I spent New Years Day with my family at my Grandmother's house. The day panned out like every other first day of the year. A big lunch, cheese and biscuits, then into the front room with drinks and games of cards. I always win at cards. It's not that I'm any good, it's because I can see what cards my Grandma has through the reflection in her glasses. I haven't got the guts to tell her that, but every year a go home with four quids worth of 2p's and she thinks I'm a world champion at cards.

Yesterday started off pretty slowly. Mary and Steve clocked in at 2pm and greeted Alex and I at the trolley bays. Those few days after the big celebrations tend to put everyone on a downer, but Darren was on hand to cheer us up, with a meeting in his office.

'Afternoon ladies and gentleman. I trust we all had a good Christmas and New Year.'

We all grumbled like a heard of cows as we took our seats.

'Since the regional managers were around last week, we decided to tighten a few strings around store. So, Sharon has suggested that colleagues should be a bit more tidy in the appearance region...'

We all knew what he meant straight away, it just took a few more seconds of staring for the person to realise. And for Darren to say his name after a brief pause.

'Steve....'

'What?'

'Certain...areas in certain peoples...'

Darren moved his stretched fingers around and tried to find the right words, trying desperately not to kill the elephant in the room.

'He means your ponytail, Steve.' Alex said.

'Alex!' '
What? It's what you meant, wasn't it?'

'No!' 

There was a second of silence. Could it have really been not about Steve?

'It's his beard as well.'

'Oh, well thanks very much!' Steve blurted.

You may be asking why this wasn't sorted out before the managers arrived. Apparently Sharon and the rest of the managers didn't really see Steve's hair as a problem. Greasy, unkempt, but certainly not a problem. The regional manager's just suggested in conversation that Steve should clean up a bit, and, to quote one of them, 'stop looking like a dirty roadie.' Darren didn't pass this quote onto Steve, but that didn't stop him slapping his hands on his thighs and standing up.

'I knew it would come to this...this fascism within the corporation, within the suits...its been a conspiracy all along. Man on the moon, September 11th...Slash leaving Guns N Roses...'

'Steve...we've discussed that. It wasn't a conspiracy. He wanted to focus on his Snakepit.' Mary tried.

'Hang on, babe. I'm guessing you've agreed to this, Darren?'

'Well it's not something I agreed to, its something I need to enforce.' Darren stuttered.

'But you don't need to go with the rest! You're in charge now! You've got your own office, with nice pencils and everything. You can make a change.'

Darren stared at him for a few seconds, as if his words were actually seeping into his brain. Then he picked up his pen and shook his head.

'No, I’m afraid the hair needs to be cut. The beard too. Asap.

'Asap?'

'As soon as possible.'

'Why did you say asap?'

'Because those are the initials.'

'So why didn't you say the initials. A.S.A.P?' Steve asked.

'Because it's quicker.' Darren spat back.

'It's not really, though. Is it?' Alex stepped in. 'I mean, the time it's taken for...'

'Let's stop this now, please. Can we? Steve, cut your hair. As soon as possible.'

Outside ten minutes later, Steve was halfway though his second speech.

'...they cut through the dignity of a man. I mean, Samson, have you ever heard of him?'

I'm not sure if that was a question aimed at us all, but Mary, Alex and I looked at each other like a struggling history students.

'His power was in his hair....'

I'm not sure power was in Steve's hair. Just grease and bits of old bacon.

'So that's that.' Steve announced proudly.

'You're cutting it off?' I asked.

'No.' Steve spat at me. 'It's staying whether they like it or not.'

'But Darren did say in the meeting that you have to cut it. Or you get fired. That's exactly what he said. In fact, it was the last thing he said before we left.' I tried.

Steve stretched out his lips and shook his head slowly, and stood like a a superhero, with his knuckles on his waist. Like an overweight superman who lost his cape in a street fight.

'It's me or the hair. And I'm going to go and tell him. You coming, Mary?'

Steve nodded at his girlfriend and moved towards the store, but stopped and looked back when he realised Mary wasn't moving.

'Mary? You coming?'

'...No.'

'What?' Steve's face fell about four foot.

'I'm not getting involved.'

'But...' Steve moved towards her. 'It's me and you. In this together. I need you by my side. For support.'

'You could just cut your hair.' Mary shrugged.

'What? I thought...' Steve eyed up me and Alex, as if we shouldn't be there. 'I thought you like it...'

'I do. But I really like it here. And besides, it's not worth leaving your job for, is it?'

'...Clearly not.'

'Sorry.'

'No, no...' Steve held up his arms and barked highly. 'It's fine, you know. It's cool...'

Steve walked off into the store.

'He's not going to leave, is he? Over his hair?' Alex asked.

'He's done it before. He's refused to roadie for Hard-Fi because none of them had hair past the ears.' Mary confirmed.

'They're shit anyway.' Alex said.

We didn't see him for the rest of the day. Mary kept popping in to find him, but he turned his phone off. The next day he parked up in his usual space and everything became clear.

'Oh my God.' Alex said.

'What?' Steve stepped out of his skoda.

Steve knew what. Overnight, Steve had turned from a member of Status Quo to a member of a NatWest bank. His ponytail had gone, and his grey locks had been trimmed all over, apart from the front where a little tuft lay, giving him a slight Morissey look to him.

'It's taken years off you, Steve.'

I didn't state how many years. I thought about three or four, but that's not really worth saying.

'Thank you very much.'

'So did you have it out with Darren?'

'Sort of.' Steve shut his door. 'He told me I could go and have it cut, so...'

Ah, that's right. A hair cut whilst still clocked on. That's what it took for him to do it. A paid haircut.

'And Mary loves it.' Steve smiled.

'What about the speeches you made? I thought the power was in your hair, like Samson?' I said.

'Well, I thought about that. And people with short hair have power too. Sir Alan Sugar. Cameron. The bloke who created the iPod, probably...'

'Yeah, and rock stars too. Freddie Mercury had short hair...' Alex chipped in.

'A few of the them are bald, too.' Steve smiled.

'No!' Alex and I shouted.

'I know you've just had a haircut, Steve. But let's not go that far.' I said.

'Why not?'

'You'll look like an overgrown baby.' Alex said plainly.

It's amazing how you can knock the confidence out of a man. It only takes one haircut.