We’d had a new contractor, Kendra, around for a little while. I’d missed the formal introductions and we didn’t actually work with each other but we’d been nodding to each other as we passed in the hallway.
After a few days, Kendra asked another teammate, Trish, who I was. Trish didn’t know which of us she meant so Kendra said “The guy with the hair.”
This left Trish even more puzzled. Kendra amplified “In that whole row of cubes, he’s the only one who isn’t bald.”
“Oh! You mean Stephen!”
The rest of the guys in my cube farm didn’t take offense. They’d made their peace with the state of their scalps. I didn’t want to say too much given the progress of my own hair’s strategic retreat.
I did mention that in the 70s, I grew my hair down to the middle of my back. I was sometimes called “the guy with the hair” back then.
One of the follicly challenged teammates said “In that case, you probably think that you have short hair now.” I did think that. It hadn’t occurred to me that by today’s standards, folks think that I have long hair.
Recently, I woke up to find that my hair was pointed in various different directions. I tried dragging my comb through it but that just seemed to annoy it. I thought that’s “the guy with the hair”