A Year of Simplicity by Deke Cutter

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It was the penultimate stop of the day for Tom. He had emptied his penthouse apartment and placed its contents in storage. He had returned the leased Lexus to the dealer and paid the hefty early return fee; he had donated half of his wardrobe to charity. He had gone to his new home, an efficiency apartment in a very unfashionable working class neighborhood to change into his new work uniform. The polyester was uncomfortable against his skin, as were the cheap sneakers he had bought at the discount store. Now he entered the shop where his transformation would be completed from a high-flyer (who flew too close to the sun) to fast-food trainee at the other end of the scale.

"Hiya pal, take a seat, the older barber with the chair near the door of the shop said, you’ll be up next." What a difference from being greeted by a receptionist at his former high-end barber salon where he would be offered an espresso or perhaps, a glass of wine while he waited. Here, he was just another one of what he always used to call ‘the little people.’ He looked around at the worn tiles on the floor, the flaking paint on the walls, the simple posters advertising products he had never heard of. At least the place looked very clean, though. "OK buddy, you’re up," said the barber awakening Tom from his reverie. "Don’t think I’ve seen you in here before, have I? Looks like you’re working at the burger joint down the street, huh?"

Tom hoped his embarrassment didn’t show, though he felt his face getting warm. He reminded himself that his actions had put him in this position, so he tried to act with some humility. "Yes, this is my first time here. I just moved to the neighborhood and am starting my job today. I’ve got a few shifts at the superette market stocking shelves too. My new boss at Burgerland told me to get my hair cut short or wear a hairnet (actually, that was why the Burgerland job had been chosen for him, because it would serve as a reason for him to lose his last vestige of his old self.}

"Well, you came to the right place, my friend. I’m Hal, I own this shop." Hal caped Tom up and combed through his thick luxuriant hair. "You have a good, healthy head of hair, looks like your old barber knew what he was doing. I bet you hate losing this mop."

"My old stylist was real talented. I can’t afford her anymore and, anyway, I need somebody who knows how to cut hair short."

"How short are we going," asked the barber.

"The shorter the better," Tom replied, cringing inside as he said it. "How about I leave it up to you. I’m going to need to keep it clipped and I will want it to last at least a month before it starts looking shaggy."

"Leave it to me, son. I’ll have you tightened up good in no time."

As the barber turned to choose the tools, Tom could hear Joann, the woman he loved, loved, he realized, more than anything or anyone, "You stole from this company, the company my father started and grew. He trusted you because I trusted you." The look of despair in her eyes, the disappointment, they cut into him more deeply than a knife. That was the first time since childhood Tom had felt shame.

Tom had begged forgiveness. He promised restitution and he promised to never ever disappoint her or cause her shame again. Her father, Charlie, had treated him like a member of his family and made him privy to the business secrets that Tom had misused to his own advantage, thinking that he was too smart to ever get caught. He had faced Charlie and admitted his guilt. He told Charlie he was ready for whatever punishment or sanctions he deserved. Charlie, a Catholic and a truly Christian man had surprised him. "Tom," Charlie said, "I forgive you. We all make mistakes in life. However, Joann believes that you need more than my forgiveness. Together, we agree that we will not go to the police. You must, however, agree to Joann’s conditions for your redemption."

And Joann’s conditions included a year of simple living. That is to include giving up all the external symbols of vanity and material success. At their last encounter, she had removed the Rolex watch she had given him from his wrist. Then, she had looked at his hair and said, "that hair gets shorn and stays shorn until you demonstrate you have truly changed."

The sound of the clippers coming to life brought Tom back to the present. Hal the barber said, "head down please." For the first time, Tom felt the clippers running up the back of his head almost to the top. "I’m going to look like one of the guys that worked in maintenance in the office building where my office was," he thought. This clippering was repeated over and over again. Suddenly Tom could feel the large fan in the shop blowing air onto the back of his head. As Hal turned his right ear down and pushed the clippers toward the front of his head, he said to Tom, "well there we go, I’ve seen ears that stick out much further than this one." Tom felt his face redden, as Hal continued to clean the hair off the side of his head. Hal didn’t even ask before he removed Tom lush sideburns to near the top of his ear. Of course, Tom could not yet see any of this because there was no mirror in the direction he was facing. Quickly, the other side of his head was completely shorn.

The clippers were silent and Tom could sense that Hal was again turned to the counter. He took the opportunity to raise his hand and touch the back of his head. The alien feel of stubble left on his head shocked him and increased a feeling of sadness at all he had done to bring him to this point. But Hal was now wetting the longer hair left on top of Tom’s head. Droplets slid down onto the shorn parts of his head. "We’re getting there now, young fella," said Hal, as he combed all of the remaining hair forward, then cut the bangs that reached his nose high up on Tom’s forehead. Hal continued to comb sections of hair up and cropped off all but an inch or so; lift, cut, lift cut, lift cut. The barber then turned the chair to face the mirror, Tom was appalled by what he saw, virtually nothing by stubble on the sides and a chopped up mess of short hair on top. Hal was pouring some liquid into his hand and then turning back to Tom and rubbing the strangely sweet smelling liquid into the hair on top of his head. The next thing that happened really puzzled Tom, a hair dryer was used to brush all that hair straight up, leaving Tom looking like a cartoon character who had just seen a ghost. Hal positioned Tom’s chair so that he was facing directly into the mirror. The barber picked up a comb with a sturdy handle on it and teeth that all appeared the same size. Hal then placed the comb in the hair at the front of Tom’s head and, using his clippers started taking the length down. He went from front to back, each time he finished, he would go back in and take more length off the short stocks of hair. Finally, Tom could feel the comb sitting directly on his scalp. "There we go, a nice bit of a landing strip on top for you. This will help you decide when to come back in for another haircut. Hal then evened up the sides. Tom would later find out that the comb was a "Tablehead Flattop Comb." Hal mentioned to him when he asked, "yessirree, this is an original, got it back in 2012. Best one I’ve ever used."

Now you are in for a real treat, son. Most fellows look forward to this part of a barbershop cut. The sensation of warm shaving cream on his neck, around his ears and where his sideburns once sat was something Tom had not experienced before. It felt strangely pleasant, but then came the feel of a straight razor removing cream and stubble. Neckline and side areas cleaned, Hal opened a tub of a thick substance with a sweet smell, rubbed it in his hands and then pushed it through Tom’s hair. Then with a stiff brush, the hair was made to stand shiny and short.

Hal took a mirror from below the counter and showed Tom the back of his head. Tom nodded his head. Hal looked in the mirror and caught the reflection of Tom’s eyes. "What do you think? This will keep you cool in that hot kitchen at Burgerland. And it will make life a lot easier for you when you a cleaning those grease traps and when you are standing over those deep fryers. I was going to give you a standard flat top, you certainly have the hair for it, but I took it down good and low so it will last longer for you."

"Thank you, sir," said Tom. ‘This is the right cut for me." Tom tried not to look in the mirror after he was released from the chair. The reality of his appearance almost physically hurt him. "My ears are huge," he thought. "I look like what I am to be, nothing special, just another worker bee."

After Tom paid Hal, Hal said, "why don’t you drop in three weeks. I have a new barber starting, I’ll only charge you seven dollars when he cuts your hair while I’m training him. Good thing about not worrying about your haircut and keeping it short is that it takes less time to cover up mistakes." Hal laughed and laughed. Tom smiled weakly and hurried out of the shop before he started crying.

Now Tom had to make his final stop before beginning his new job. This was excruciating. To save on gas, he took the bus to JoAnn’s condo. He had used his flip phone to alert her to his arrival. When he arrived, the doorman looked at him like something he got caught on the bottom of his shoe. He asked the doorman to please ring Joann’s unit and tell her Tom is here. The doorman sneered and asked "what’s a wealthy lady like her want with a burger boy."

Old Tom would have devastated the guy with comebacks, wiping the floor with him. But this Tom smiled shyly and said, "She helped me get the job at Burgerland. I’ve fallen on some hard times. She asked me to stop by and see her before my first shift. Please, if you let her know I am here, she will tell you she knows me"

A moment later the doorman allowed Tom to enter the lobby, but gave him the tew fingered "I have my eyes on you" gesture. Tom took the mirrored elevator up to Joann’s floor, trying to look only at his feet so that he did not have to embarrass himself by how ridiculous he looked. This was going to be a hard year. He knocked on her door.

"Oh, Tom, how the mighty have fallen. Now I understand why the doorman was so hesitant to let you in. You look like…well, you look like you are supposed to look. You know the rules. I will be monitoring your progress."

And thus began Tom’s year of simple humble living. It was a year of hard, menial work, a year of brutal short haircuts, and a year of learning that his actions had consequences.

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