Bob

For years I worked the same job and for years I had the same hair.

I liked my job. Mostly. I met many of my close friends at that job and I somehow convinced everyone to call me Queen Mary and I ruled over that kingdom for seven years.

Seven years is a long time to be making coffee and selling croissants. Seven years goes quick when you have a captive audience that laughs at all your jokes and basically lets you do whatever the hell you want.

When I started the job, I was 21 and sporting a nymph-ish pixie cut. Pixie cuts require very frequent trims (that this part time job wouldn’t finance) and I thought my hair would look cuter in a ponytail at work so I started to grow it out.

The job was hectic and I was underpaid and the boss was tough but I stuck with it. After a few years, I was a manager and making a buck or two more than the newly hired team members and my hair was down to my waist.

At work I sported it in a large bun right on top of my head. Customers referred to me as “the girl with the bun.” It was something to be I guess.

I watched as coworkers moved on to school and living abroad and other jobs with other bosses but I stayed put. I had a student loan to pay back and I was terrified of being unemployed for 6 months again.

That’s what I told myself and others anyway but also, I was really good at my job. I knew the answer to every question and that felt good. I knew it inside and out and I could do it more efficiently than anyone else. I didn’t have to think. I saw every problem coming a mile away and though my boss was particular, I knew every single one of his quirks. I knew what would bother him before he did and put out the fires before he could smell the smoke. I spent a great chunk of that 7 years smiling and nodding while being told things that I’d heard 26 times before. I did absolutely everything I could to protect my staff from his bullying. There was a reason people called me Queen.

Around the 6 year mark, I’d look in the mirror at myself while putting on my signature turleneck and admire how my hair looked when it was all tucked in. I started envisioning my life as a girl with a bob. So chic and effortlessly cool. I decided that a chin-grazing haircut would be my reward when I finally found a new job.

I started looking. Admittedly not that hard, but I started looking. I felt trapped by how long I’d been in this one position. I didn’t want to leave this role for an identical position at a place where I didn’t know all the answers. Feeling defeated and drowning in hair, I chopped off ten inches. Not a bob but shoulder length and lighter. I wanted to make sure it was still long enough to look cute while tied up at this job that I didn’t want to do anymore.

This isn’t to say I wasn’t still having fun at work. My coworkers were fun and we’d spend each day making jokes and talking about every personal drama in our lives. If I was having a bad day, I could tell them exactly why and then we’d figure out the right playlist to put on to bring me out of the darkness. It really felt like a family and I’m honestly not sure I’ve ever felt more myself anywhere else.

Which is why I’m unclear exactly when this change came for me. I don’t remember an inciting incident or a big blow up or a particularly condescending conversation. I do remember a 35 degree day in August walking home drenched in sweat, hyper aware of the hair stuck to my neck, and realizing how tired I was.

I wasn’t just tired from that day, I was tired. I had been working a physically and mentally demanding job for 7 years and was finally recognizing that I was near burn out. Plus, I was tired of letting this job dictate how I got my haircut.

I booked an appointment for early September and got my bob. Just in time for turt season. I had to wear my hair in an unattractive “founding fathers” ponytail at work but I finally had the bob that I wanted. Two months later, I found a new job.

I know the bob didn’t make that happen. I know a haircut can’t change the course of your life. But making that choice just for me, changed my mindset. I was still afraid of moving on but I was ready. It was time.

Do I have my dream job now? No. To be honest, I’m not sure what that job is as I mostly excel at watching reality TV and joking around with my friends. In lieu of a dream job I have something different. A different hairstyle and a different place with a different boss and different challenges. For now, that’s a good start.