There I was, sitting in my hairdressers hot seat, chatting away with a cup of tea in hand, as he began chopping my hair. I had been going to the same salon and hairstylist for a couple of years, I was pretty loyal to him.
As we chatted about work and stress, I began telling him about how bizarre I found Stephen Harper hair. You know who Stephan Harper is, right? Well, he was our not so popular Prime Minister for a few years in Canada, in fact, he was pretty much detested in the Foreign Affairs circle because of how many budget cuts he made, all because he wanted to dismantle a department that was founded by a Liberal Prime Minister.
So, as I was sitting there, talking about Stephen Harper’s hair that sat on top of his head like a plastic helmet, I began by lamenting on how I couldn’t figure out why a stylist wouldn’t make the hair at least more personable. It just seemed to me that the haircut and way it never moved, made him seem even more standoffish and slightly rigid in personality. His plastic hair that resembled a Lego minifigure. just needed to be styled in a way that allowed it to move, even when standing in front of the parliament buildings in the wind.
I kept going, the hair was a rather big problem in my mind for the day. I just couldn’t quite figure out why in the middle of an election, this poor man couldn’t get his hair right. Isn’t hair kinda important.
My hair dresser kept working in silence. A usually chatty man, he remained pretty mute. I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t engage in a discussion about hair.
As he finished. He spun my around.
There he was, sitting behind me in a blind spot while I sat facing the mirror, but completely visible when I was turned around.
Stephen Harper was sitting behind me the whole time. His wife, laughing hysterically on another chair. My face fell.
I was facing our new Prime Minister… yup, and that helmet head of his.
Egg on Face!
As he got up to leave, he chuckled, and his wife leaned over and laughed, gave my hand a squeeze. His security detail trying hard not to laugh. His hairdresser on the other hand turned to tell me “his hair seriously won’t move it is so thick!”
The next day, I walked into work, thinking I was going to be fired.
I told everyone what happened, and there was not a dry eye at the office. The story was priceless.
I requested my hairdresser tell me next time I have an appointment at the same time as the Prime Minister!