Aaron by Benjamin Zaltano

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I woke up directly when my alarm rang: today was a big day. For the first time, I had a job interview. I had finished my master’s degree in law and now I was entering the workforce. Becoming an adult seemed fun.
I drank my coffee and took a shower. I had a big build because I went a lot to the gym, and I really liked being muscular. I then dressed myself. I had planned everything: I had bought my suits for every workday. I didn’t own any before leaving university and now I had to wear them every day. For the interview, I would wear a simple black suit, black trousers, white silky shirt, and a simply black satin tie. I put it all on and I looked really good.
I looked at the time and realized I had to hurry to be there on time. Last thing I had to do: style my hair.
I’ve always had jet-black hair. I was never a fan of it so I used to dye it, but at the end of university I stopped knowing I would have to be presentable. I wore my hair on the everyday in curtains, that framed my faces and enhanced my perfect eyebrows and that created a contrast between the pure darkness of my locks and my pale white skin.
I changed hairstyle. I knew curtains wouldn’t allow me to get the job, so I went to the barber. He gave me a nice low taper and left the top to be about 4 inches long. He also showed me how to slick it back. After I blowdried my hair, I put some pomade on, and slicked it all back with a comb. I loved doing it, it felt so professional to me.
Suit. Hair. Everything was perfect. I would get the job.


The interviewer looked good too. He was onto his thirties, with a brown suit and purple tie. A bit unconventional but he had the job. He had a shiny dome. No hair at all. Perfectly shaved to the skin. His name was Michael.

"Well, everything seems about perfect, said Michael. Do you have any question?" I replied on the negative. "You have the job. Congratulations, you’re in!" I was thrilled. Everything was going to be perfect. This firm is amazing and renowned. I thanked Michael and asked when I could start. "Today could be perfect. We just have to take care of one last detail beforehand."
I was excited. He searched for something in his drawers and picked up something. He placed it in the middle of the desk. It was clippers. More precisely, they were osters, the red ones, with a number one guard. What did he want to do with those?
"To get in, you have to cut it off. As a newbie, you can’t have that sort of hair. You have to be more obedient." I was unsure. He assured me that it was necessary. I wanted to leave but realized I was tied with links to the armrests of the chair.
He got up, looked at my face and told me: "With that face, and that suit of yours, it’s a shame to have such a distraction. That slick back is not going to stay much longer."
He turned the clippers on. The mechanical sound filled the room. I wanted that job. I would obey. "Do as you please, sir."
He teased me a bit with them. "It’s a mop in the morning, uh?" "You’re about to become a real man." And so on. I was a little bit turned on by it.
He approached the clippers to my forehead. I didn’t think he would start there first. "Buzzing straight through the middle is always the best way to get right of hair like yours."
He was about to tease me one last time when approaching my hairline, but I told him, to my surprise, to "cut it all off". So he did. The clippers slowly ate their way through that slickback. I could already feel the air touching the nice 3mm I had left. After one sweep, I wanted him to continue. I didn’t want that long girly hair anymore. I wanted to be a man. He took one lock of hair which had fallen on my suit and mocked me: "off with that sh*t".
Once more, the clippers destroyed my used-to-be black hair. What was left was really short hair. I was obedient. I wanted the job.
He continued. With each pass of the clippers, I was enthralled. The sound rejoiced me. I loved it.
He was done. "All that’s left is that little taper of yours. I’ll get it off next time when I shave you completely." "Yes sir" I answered in a military tone. I wanted it done.
He then told me to go to my desk and to work. I did. At the end of the day, I went to the bathroom. The reflection in the mirror was the new me. A man with a perfect buzzcut. A man in the workforce. Shaving that slick back was perfect. I hated that mop. "Now, I’m a new man" I said while caressing my buzzcut.

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