The Interview by CleanCutTieGuy

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The brisk morning air did little to tame Ben’s unruly mane. He ran a hand through the moderate tangle of wavy locks, a legacy of four years of ramen and late-night study sessions. Today, however, wasn't about another all-nighter. Today was about a job interview, his first real shot since graduating, and he was determined to look the part. He was wearing his new dark blue suit, somewhat feeling like a kid playing dress-up in unfamiliar clothes. But the hair… the hair was a problem. After he dressed, he tried to tame and style it, but in the suit, it just looked out of place.

A quick internet search near where he was interviewing only showed one result, "Frank's Barbershop". The storefront was an anachronism, a sign with fading letters, nestled between a vape shop and a trendy coffee spot. Inside, the scent of Bay Rum and hot lather hung heavy, a stark contrast to the modern world he’d just walked from. Chrome gleamed on an ancient barber chair, and black-and-white photos of men with sharp, no-nonsense haircuts adorned the walls.

Behind the chair, a man with a stern but kind face was cleaning a set of clippers. He had a strong jawline and a quiet intensity in his eyes. A faded tattoo on his forearm hinted at a past in the armed forces. "Morning," the barber exclaimed, his voice friendly, but direct. "Have a seat."

Ben removed his suit coat and hung it on the coat rack before settling into the worn leather chair and loosening his tie.

"I have an interview today," he began with nervous uncertainty, "and I need…something that looks more professional. Something short." He gestured vaguely at his unruly mop.

The barber, whom he assumed was "Frank," nodded slowly, his gaze assessing Ben’s hair with the precision of a drill sergeant. He put a pin-strip cape on Ben and secured it in place.

"An interview, huh? Going into the field, or behind a desk?"

"Behind a desk, hopefully," Ben replied, a nervous laugh escaping him, "I just finished college and got an interview with Case Robotic Systems down the street."

As he was combing out Ben’s hair Frank responded, "Case is a good company. A number of my customers work there."

Frank picked up his clippers, their hum a surprisingly soothing sound. He met Ben's gaze in the mirror, then confirmed, 'So, professional and short for your interview today?' Ben nodded in agreement.

Frank worked with an efficient, almost rhythmic precision, his movements mechanical and strong. He started with the sides, the clippers quickly removing clumps of Ben's shaggy growth. Ben watched in the mirror as his locks fell away, revealing a sharper jawline and ears he hadn't seen clearly in years. While unceremoniously shearing off most of the hair from the back and sides of Ben's head, Frank mentioned, "You know, when I was in the service, a good haircut wasn't just about looking sharp. It was about discipline. About being ready for whatever came next."

The hair on top was next, and Ben braced himself, expecting a trim. Instead, long sections of his hair were picked up with a comb and then sliced off with the clippers. There was a small waterfall of Ben’s mane cascading down the cape. Ben did not normally part his hair, but Frank proceeded to create a side part with his comb.

Frank applied some heavily scented product into his hair, then combed it into a precise side part with his minimal bangs brushed back. He was not used to seeing his forehead fully exposed.

It wasn't the trendy, shorter cuts he'd seen on Instagram. It was conservative and almost military.

When Frank finally put down his tools and casually whisked away the stray hairs with a soft brush, Ben looked at his reflection. His first thought was, Wow. His second, Is that really me? The unruly college kid was gone, replaced by someone who looked surprisingly mature, even commanding. The much shorter haircut made his eyes stand out, and his face, usually softened by hair, now had a chiseled quality. It was a no-nonsense haircut, simple, straightforward, and perfectly suited for the serious business of an interview.

Frank carefully removed the cape to make sure no stray hair got on Ben’s clothes.

"There you go sir," Frank said, stepping back with a satisfied nod. "Short. Professional. Ready for inspection."

Ben reached up and his fingers traced the short, crisp bristles on the back of his head. It felt… unfamiliar. He carefully rebuttoned the top button on his shirt and carefully tightened his tie so that the knot looked perfect. As Frank was sweeping up the copious amount of hair he stripped from Ben’s head, he retrieved his suit jack and slipped it back on. He smoothed it out and took his full reflection. The suit suddenly felt less like a costume and more like a uniform for his new, more disciplined look. "Thank you, Frank," he said, a genuine smile spreading across his face. "This is exactly what I needed."

As he walked out of the barbershop, the sun felt different on his newly exposed scalp. He still had the jitters for the interview, but a new kind of confidence now buzzed beneath his new haircut.

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