Following to lead by Manny

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Steven had expected it would be hard to come into the team lead position as a younger man with a modernizing agenda, but the brick wall he met from the old guard upon arrival in La Mirada was demoralizing. Not one of the ten men on his team seemed the least bit open to his ideas, and all but one ignored or actively shunned him.

The sole glimmer of warmth came from Art, the only team veteran who accepted his invitation for a cup of coffee.

It didn't take long before Steven's frustration exploded into the chat, "Just look at everyone!! They are still in the 1950s -- both in their thinking and the way they dress! This is 1975, for Pete's sake!"

"I suppose that includes me," Art said, adjusting his skinny tie and pushing his black plastic framed glasses back up on his nose.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to offend you, Art," Steven apologized.

"I've listened to you and what your vision is for the organization here. Now, how about you listen for a bit," Art said curtly. "Our output is in the top tier of international markets. Sales, quality, innovation -- it's about results, not modern malarky and cutesy slogans. The guys and I don't need fixing."

"So, what would you suggest?" Steven asked in a slightly contrite tone.

"Sorry if that sounded harsh, Steven. You seem like a nice guy and probably have some good ideas, but the way you blew in here with your flashy clothes -- not to mention that moptop look with bushy sideburns and flamboyant mustache -- trumpeting change! Talk about a turn off..."

"So, I'm to wear a dark suit, white dress shirt, thin tie...visit a barber and come out clean shaven with a short taper and slicked-to-the-side look?!" Steven replied with a dollop of sarcasm. "Preaching a 'father-knows-best' hierarchical management?"

"Respect us and our accomplishments....and, yes, try to fit in a bit with us. I can help you with that," Art offered.

"How?" Steven asked curiously.

"Listen more. And, sober up your image, at least tone it down a bit. Like I said, I'd be willing to help you," Art repeated.

"With advice?" Steven asked.

"Yep, on your wardrobe. And, with my home barber kit on the rest of your grooming. I'm quite a good amateur barber. What I'd recommend is a very slight adjustment each week. You visit my plant on Tuesdays. Pop by my office ten minutes early and you'll get a small tweak," Art explained.

"So tomorrow, my first Tuesday, what could I expect from my new barber?" Steven asked.

"A sideburn trim. That big mutton chop that extends below your earlobe....I'd shorten it by a half inch and narrow it just a tad. A very small adjustment that most people won't even notice," Art replied.

"And, then, each week a small move toward a more conservative look? I think I can manage that. And, I definitely will be a better active listener. Sorry that's modern malarky, as you might say," Steven laughed.

"No, I like that. 'Active listening.' I'll have to remember it," Art chuckled.

"Wardrobe tip?" Steven asked.

"No floral shirts. If you need to wear a pattern, keep it a basic check, or better yet, just stripes," Art suggested.

That evening Steven felt conflicted about Art's advice. Certainly, if he had suggested a radical makeover at the barber shop, Steven would have rejected it outright. But, he was willing to submit to a few tweaks. Perhaps the little grooming sessions could help him connect better to Art. Steven remembered how Art had warmed to his pledge for 'active listening' and like the new management buzz phrase. There was hope!

In the morning, Steven spent a bit more time with the blow dryer, trying to get his coarse, curly locks more under control. He brushed them out under the warm blow, curling the brush under to try to straighten them a bit. He examined his sideburns. Paring them back a bit would be no problem. But, he did love his full, elegant 'stache! How had Art described it? Flashy or flamboyant?!

Driving to Art's plant made Steven feel a bit weird. To have a subordinate groom him....strange. But, it had been Art's idea. Plus, he wanted to be a good listener and show he was receptive to advice.

"Oh, come in. You're 15 minutes early!" Art said as he opened the door to his office.

"What? No barber tunic?" Steven laughed.

"No, but I do have a cape if you don't want any hairs on this nice polyester leisure suit. Mustard yellow with a coordinating brown, yellow and white striped shirt. The ensemble really complements your blondish-brown hair and golden mustache!" Art exclaimed eying his hirsute team leader.

"No cape necessary. Use a bit of water, no lather. Save the cape for when you start chopping away at this mop," Steven said as he struggled to push his forelock back. Contrary to his expectation, the blow-drying had made his forelock less controllable. Steven took a seat in the improvised barbering chair that Art had set up near the window.

Art grasped the mass of fluffy mane and cocked Steven's head to one side. After wetting the sideburn a bit, he brandished the straight edge razor and brought it to the big mutton-chop.

"Today, the focus is on trimming back your sideburns," he said as he scraped off three quarters of an inch from the base. Then with small strokes, he reduced the flair by a little less that half.

"How does it look?" Steven asked.

"Better. Now the for the other side," Art replied.

Then, he added, "Cape for sure, next week. I'm going to trim the hair in back -- from the base of your collar to mid-collar. A good inch, that's all."

Art held up a hand mirror and Steven examined his sideburns.

"I can hardly tell a difference," Steven commented.

"I'll get back to the sideburns in about a month. After my second round with them, there will be no more big mutton chop, and the length will be to mid-ear," Art said.

"I see what you meant about this being a process. And, next week, I suppose I won't see much change either," Steven surmised.

Art grasped the copious collection of hair that hung from Steven's nape. "Just an inch off this," he noted.

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And so it transpired. Each week another quasi-imperceptible makeover. The inch off the back went easily. And, Steven enjoyed the camaraderie that was developing with Art. While their 15-minute grooming session took place, they chatted about office and other matters.

The third week, Art again fastened the cape tightly about Steven's neck. "You're going to lose quite a bit of hair today, but it won't be too noticeable because of these," Art said, holding up the thinning shears. "This forelock is in severe need of bulk reduction." With that, he began to hack away at the forelock, combing out the cut strands. Over and over and over he unleashed the thinning shears and wispy wads of cut hair fell to the cape. "This will make your hair a bit more manageable. I think I'll give you an all-over round with the thinning shears. These curls and waves are so bulky."

"But, it won't be noticeable?" Steven asked skeptically. "It's all right if it is, I guess."

Art thrashed repeatedly at Steven's mane -- back, sides, top, forelock. A lot of hair came off. Then he brushed down everything nice and smooth. "What do you think?" he asked as he held up a hand mirror.

"Looks fine, great even. Not so out-of-control," Steven said, smiling broadly. "You weren't kidding when you said you had a lot of experience! You could charge for this...."

Art combed the forelock down. It completely covered Steven's eyes. "I could save taking some length off for another visit, or we could do it now. What do you say?"

Steven looked at all the hair on the cape. He got cold feet. "Let's leave it for another time."

As Art began brushing his hair back, Steven changed his mind.

"Know what. There's no time like the present. Shorten it -- out of the eyes," he said.

"Are you sure? That will be a big change -- probably noticeable," Art warned.

"I'm fine. Might be good for the others to know I'm trying to fit in a bit. Cutting my hair shorter. I've had a few good chats as I conduct my rounds to the various plants. The old guard seems a bit more open to the new guard," Steven noted, smiling.

"I'm so glad to hear that, Steven!" Art exclaimed as he snipped the bangs right at the eyebrow level.

-----

Things took a bit of a sour turn on the fourth session when Art focused on Steven's mustache. "Cape again today," he noted. "That mustache is on my radar screen. It's getting pared back!"

"Whoa!" Steven yelped. "Not so fast. I'm very fond of this. Didn't I say this pretty piece of masculinity was off limits?"

"Nope, or I wouldn't have agreed to groom you like I've been doing," Art snapped. "We were making such progress."

The two sat staring at each other in a bit of a standoff.

Finally, Steven relented, "Okay, but try to go easy on the mustache." He fondled his luxuriant mustache protectively.

Art took a comb and drove it in, lifting the mustache hairs away from the lip. Then a horrible crunching of the scissors sounded as most of the left side was scissorsed off.

"Oh!" Steven gasped as he saw a chunk of coarse mustache hair hit the cape.

Art went in again for the coup de grace. He smiled with satisfaction and the made-over side. Then Art repeated the two chops on the other side. Most of the mustache was gone!

"Let me see," Steven demanded. He grabbed the hand mirror and surveyed the damage. Oh, his beloved mustache had been virtually decimated. Almost GONE!

"I haven't finished yet," Art said in a snippy tone. He tidied everything up and Steven was left with a smallest, skimpy mustache....like a teen boy who's growing out his first one.

"What do I have to look forward to next week?" Steven asked skeptically.

Art pushed Steven's copious locks behind his ears. "The unveiling of these," he said, caressing the ear and lobe. "Or at least the bottom half of your ear. It'll be up to you. I can snip off the hair and completely uncover the ears in one sitting, or it can be spread over two visits. It'll be up to you."

"When are you going to get back to all this hair?" Steven asked, running his fingers through the plush locks at this nape.

"When I take the clippers to you for the first time, that will be real progress," Art said ominously.

Somehow, Steven felt excited about bowing his head for the clippers. He almost asked whether it was necessary to wait.

"Next time, I will want the ears completely uncovered," Steven said confidently. "And perhaps a taper around them with the clippers?"

"What I hear you saying is that you want to end this death by a thousand cuts and have me give you a proper haircut next week. A short back and sides. Tapered short around the ears and up the back?" Art asked, smiling broadly and hoping Steven would agree to accelerate his new look.

"Let's play it by ear. Got to go now," Steven said nervously.

-----

Steven could think of nothing else all week. Another small modification or an end to his mod look?

When he showed up to Art's the following Tuesday, his colleague was in great spirits.

"Well, look at you. A plain blue dress shirt and tie with a small crest on it -- it's even something I could wear," Art said cheerfully as he ushered Steven into his office.

The makeshift barbering chair was by the window draped with the cape. A large set of clippers were plugged in and ready to go on the tabletop!

"Are you ready for these today, Steven?" the amateur barber asked as he tapped the black plastic machine. "I set them out just in case you were."

Steven ran his fingers through his dense golden-brown hair. Was it time to shed his mane and start looking like one of the blokes?

He took a seat and fidgeted. "What do you think?" he asked Art nervously.

"It's your decision," Art replied, casting the cape and pulling it snugly about the neck. Art gave Steven a bit of a massage about his neck and shoulders. He was so tense.

Steven took a deep breath. Then he bowed his head. "Do it! Taper it short around the ears and tight up the back. I want to look like...." His voice trailed off.

He imagined a big smile on Art's face.

The shriek of the clippers broke the silence in the room.

Art steadied Steven's head with his hand. Then he slowly, methodically pushed the clippers up through the nape and began peeling off a massive chunk of Steven's coarse, wavy hair. Higher and higher the clippers went, still pressing tight to the scalp. Then Steven sensed the first clump tumble down his neck. He could almost hear a thud as it hit the office floor. A shiver ran down his spine.

"Steady," Art warned as the clippers began to pull away into a close taper near the crown.

Steven looked down and his stomach churned with remorse. The floor was strewn with a few large clumps of cut hair that looked like icebergs floating in an Artic sea.

"Is anything left back there?" Steven asked, trying to sound funny. His leg shook nervously.

"Not much," Art deadpanned. "I'm following your instructions to a tee. The taper is tight!"

Then the clippers began their second climb up through the mass of golden-brown locks. Good-bye 1970s, hello 1950s...

The haircut continued in silence as Art turned his attention to the side. The remains of the muttonchop sideburn was peeled off as the clippers began their Sherman march upward to the temple. Art held Steven's wavy hair captive with the comb as the clippers climbed the side. A clump of curls landed in Steven's lap.

Instinctively his hand came out from under the cape and he grasped the cut lock.

"No use crying over cut hair," Art teased. "I hope you're not into buyer's remorse."

"I thought I'd come down here to La Mirada and transform this place...." Steven whimpered.

"But instead..." Art continued the thought.

"I'm the one that's getting the overhaul," Steven said with a tone of resignation and defeat. "So much for being a leader."

"Think of it like this. You came down here to lead a highly functioning team and you have in fact been leading by example with some critical active listening," Art suggested.

Steven smiled a bit. Art was so kind and caring....

The cutting continued in silence as Art cleared everything off the side and exposed a nicely shaped ear. Then the process was repeated on the other side.

"What are we going to do on top, Steven?" Art asked, yanking his comb through the wavy thatch a few times.

"Well, what are my options?" Steven replied.

"A lot of thinning and taking the length down -- at least three or four inches need to come off up here. You'll have to use a generous amount of Brylcreme to keep it slicked down in the sharp tidy look we guys tend to favor. Your hair is very unruly," Art explained.

"Or?" Steven wondered.

" Or, if you want something simpler, and this is what I would recommend, a classic crewcut. I'll take you down clipper-over-comb, very short, very close to the scalp. It's a practical haircut. I have five sons and they all sport crewcuts -- meaning, I have a lot of experience giving the haircut," Art said.

"A crewcut?!" Steven stammered. "Oh, but that would be so short. And none of the men sport crewcuts. It would be a matter of me not be fitting in again."

"Or, it would be your chance to make your mark! I bet you $50 dollars within a week of you sporting a crewcut, several of the other men will follow your lead," Art said in an animated tone. "I would! I'd love to sport a crewcut like my boys. In fact, I might have you give me a butch! A #2 all over -- right after the cape comes off you, Steven."

"Would you like a butch cut?" Steven asked. "If so, I'm game! Fire up the clippers and mow it all off!"

Art wasted no time in popping a #2 guard on and driving his Oster's right through Steven's massive thatch of waves and curls on top. He pushed through the tangle with determination and pulled off an amazing wad of wool.

"Look at all this!" Art squealed with delight as he showed Steven that mass of hair his clippers had harvested. "I've never cut off so much hair at once!"

"Damn!" Steven gasped. "I didn't know there was that much up there. It feels great, all coming off."

Again, Art took the clippers down the top of Steven's head and watched the overgrowth tumble down to his shoulders, then hit the floor. A large carpeting of cut hair had formed around Art's feet.

Steven's mind drifted to a future routine of him and Art giving each other butch cuts.

After Steven's head had been clipped down to a tidy stubble, Art declared the haircut over and handed his client the hand mirror.

"Holy Smokes!" Steven said, gasping and laughing and feeling the coarse pelt. "It's like I'm in the Army! They'll be shipping me out to Vietnam!"

Steven paused, and then added, "But my mustache has to go!"

"Really?" Art asked. "You were so weepy and protective about it when I trimmed it back a few weeks ago."

"A lot has changed since then, Art. You've helped me so much. I can't thank you enough for your friendship and guidance," Steven said.

"And, now you can return the favor. I can't wait to sport a butch! I want to get rid of this businessman's look. You know, the other thing that would make you popular with the team here is to abolish the dress shirt and tie requirement. This is a factory operation -- polo shirts would work just fine and be more comfortable," Art said as he took the cape off Steven.

Steven pointed to the chair and suddenly the tables had turned. Art was under the cape! "An end to your fussy little business cut, eh? These lovely chestnut-colored locks with fiery auburn highlights....I'm sending them to the floor."

He snapped on the clippers and brought them down the top of Art's head. He would get his butch!

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