Haircuts From My Mum

My mother cut my hair until I was forty.

Between the snippity snip of the silver scissor blades, were periods of peace. Haircuts to me were always about refreshing one’s self, almost in meditation, the idea of clearing yourself of head weight; literally as well as in thought. As I watched my once luscious black locks, mother would snap at me with questions. I, for obvious reasons, would not be able to evade such scrutiny. From these follicles of memories, one question has always stood out the most as having defined my motivation for the past decade. 

“If one [me] had enough money to sustain themselves the second half of their life, why not retire now? Why not slow down?” As gently as her delicate fingers caressed the blade handles, I denied the prospect of such a seemingly simple exit. 

For instance, if I were to, at our annual manager meeting, tell our managers that this year we would slow down, troublesome thoughts would surface; thoughts such as: Does this company still have opportunities for my future?

My mother has never told me to slow down since, and I get my haircut at Queen St. (Don’t think my local hairdresser would have such cutting questions for me. Haha) 

Business is a high stakes game of poker, you are either all in or you fold. There is no in between.

When your mother asks, “Do you want a piece of advice?” it is a mere formality. It doesn’t matter if you answer yes or no. You’re going to get it anyway. -Erma Bombeck


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