“So, how does it look?”

I’m at the barbershop, and I’m nervous. 

The guy that’s been cutting my hair for years has left town, and this is his replacement. 

I’ve gotten haircuts from him twice, and it was hit and miss. The first time was solid enough, the second one… was a bit crappy. 

But this time it really matters: I’m giving a TEDx talk in a couple of days, and it would suck for my hair to look weird. 

Maybe that sounds too dramatic, but that video will live on YouTube for… well, forever, really, and I know myself—every time I look at it, or even every time someone mentions it, I’ll be thinking, 

“I wish my stupid hair didn’t look so stupid.”

As he’s shaping my sideburns, I know we’re almost done, but I can’t really tell what my hair looks like: I normally wear glasses, and I can’t have them on during the cut, so all I see in the mirror is a blurred version of my face. 

He puts down the scissors and the razor, reaches for the mirror, and I reach for my glasses. 

He asks me the question, I look up, and that’s when I see it: he has messed up. Big time. 

There’s a bald spot on the back. One of the sides is wonky. The front is so short I look like an army recruit in the 80s. It’s awful. 

I jump out of the chair, grab the mirror off his hands, and break it in half. I try to push the chair over but it’s screwed to the floor, so I swipe my hands across the counter instead, and all his scissors and combs go flying off. 

I’m still wearing the white apron covered in hair, which must only be making me look even more insane, because the barber is staring at me with sheer terror in his eyes. 

A scream comes to my lips: “You ruined it!! You ruined everything!!!”—but before I can let it out, I hear it again: 

“So, how does it look?”

I’m still sitting on the chair. He’s still holding the mirror behind me. 

I shake my head, and look up. My hair looks fine. 

“That’s it,” I say. “It looks good.”

I pay, shake his hand, and leave. 

When I get home, I ask my wife how my hair looks, and she says, 

“Same as always.”

I make a face when she tells me that, because she doesn’t get it. She just doesn’t have the sensibility to notice how close to a disaster it was.  

It’s either that… 

Or I’m taking my hair too seriously 😅

It’s in your head, in your head

If you’ve been following this newsletter for a while, you know that some of the most interesting stories happen inside our heads. Things we think about, things we remember. 

But I haven’t said much about things we dream about, or things we hallucinate. Maybe “hallucinate” is not really the right word: what I mean are those scenes of the future we “see”, which turn out to be just plain wrong or even a little crazy (like the one in this story): 

It’s common to project the future, either consciously or in flashes, just before reality kicks in. Those moments aren’t true, but they can often say interesting things about us: who we are, or who we’d like to be. 

More importantly, they’re fun! A wrong prediction or exaggerated reaction can bring tension to a story that didn’t have that much going for it. 

I know it doesn’t sound like much. And it might actually only be a small detail to add. 

But when it comes to stories (unlike my haircuts)… 

You can never take what’s inside your head too seriously 🤘

-Francisco 

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