My New Boss by Andrew (recovered)

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My New Boss

By Andrew


It was my first summer job of college. I had responded to an advertisement for "fit young men willing to work shifts". It turned out to be a security guard job, working at a carpet warehouse in the town where I lived.

The uniform consisted of dark blue trousers, cap and button-up tunic, shiny black boots, pale blue shirt and dark blue tie. I soon gathered the boss was an ex-military man - he had a fierce looking high-and-tight haircut, his sandy hair making it seem even shorter. When his jacket was off, he kept his shirt sleeves rolled up way past the elbows, and insisted his staff do the same. His whole manner and bearing suggested ex-army (I later discovered he was former Military Police).

In the job spec I got on the first day of training, it said under "Dress Code and Appearance" that facial hair was not allowed. I dutifully shaved off my rudimentary goatee, thinking this would suffice. I neglected my sideburns, however - in my book, these weren't "facial hair." They extended to the bottom of the ear opening, and then flared out into an anvil shape at the bottom, pointing towards the mouth. Coupled with that, my hair was spiked on top and the ends bleached blond.

I hadn't reckoned on my boss, or "The Colonel" as we called him behind his back. On my third day, I was sitting on a wall in the sun, having a smoke break. I had taken my cap off, and as I sat there The Colonel walked past.

He stopped dead in his tracks and glared at me. I stood up, extinguishing my cigarette hastily. "Put your hat on, button your tunic, and follow me," growled The Colonel. I obeyed, wondering what I could've done.

It can't be my shirt sleeves, I thought as I trudged after him - I had got used to rolling them up into "shirt sleeve order" every morning.

It can't be my hair, I thought, recalling my goatee going down the sink.

I stood in front of the Colonel's desk in his office, and he took his time, looking me up and down like a piece of meat.

"Son, did you read the Dress Code on your first day?" he said, his voice menacingly soft.

"Yes, sir," I croaked.

"Did you read the part about facial hair?"

"Yes, sir."

"THEN CAN YOU TELL ME WHY YOU'VE STILL GOT THOSE DAMN SIDEBURNS?" he roared.

"I…I don't know, sir," I stammered.

"Take your hat off, son," he said, calmly. I obeyed.

"And the tunic." I obeyed, concerned now. What was he going to do?

"And the shirt." I stared at him, confused.

"You heard," he growled. My hands trembling, I removed my tie and then my sweat-soaked shirt.

"Now, sit down," said The Colonel. As I sat, he opened a drawer in his desk, and produced a set of clippers. Now I understood.

He plugged the clippers in, and began to shave me. First, the bare clippers decimated my beautiful sideburns. Then, #0 on the back and sides. Finally, #2 over the top, leaving me shorn of my bleached locks.

The job done, The Colonel ordered me onto the floor and made me do 50 push-ups.

My punishment over, he threw me a towel. As I dried the sweat and clippings from my naked upper body, he said, "Now son, I want you to keep your hair like that for the rest of the time you work for me."

I nodded, suitably chastened. I dressed and returned to work. When I got home, I looked at myself in the mirror.

It looked great!

I stayed like that the rest of the summer, in fact I still got my hair cut that way for about a year after I left that lousy job.

All thanks to The Colonel, who forcibly gave me my first buzz cut!

The End

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