Ms Pierce Demands

Prologue

I had never been more nervous in my life. Ms Amy Pierce, the newly appointed HR Director for our tele-sales company, had summoned me to her office. She had a reputation for being strict and uncompromising, and I could not help but feel a sense of dread as I walked towards her office to meet her for the first time.

I stood outside the door, checking my long black hair was smooth as it fell neatly over my shoulders and down my back. Then, taking a deep breath, I knocked.

Confrontation

As soon as I entered Ms Pierce’s office, I could feel the tension in the air. She was sitting behind her desk, her long, layered hair framing her face perfectly and her designer suit giving off an air of authority. As there was no visitor’s chair in front of her desk, I went to move one from against the wall. However, she motioned for me to stand in front of her desk, and I followed her instructions, her steely gaze making me feel like a schoolgirl in trouble.

‘Good morning, Catherine,’ she said in a cool tone, ‘No, do not sit. There is no time, as we have a great deal to do this morning.’

Feeling her greeting was rude and discourteous, I stood awkwardly, trying to figure out what was happening. Ms Pierce had already brought in many changes, and I could not help but wonder if I was in trouble for something.

‘Oh, er, sorry, Amy,’ I responded hesitantly.

‘Please address me as Ms Pierce,’ she sniffed, her lips curving into a chilling smile. ‘Now, as you know, the male staff now comply with the stricter dress code I have introduced. Or, if they refused,’ she chuckled heartlessly, ‘they have been asked to leave.’

The men around the office, previously dressed casually with widespread individualism, now looked like corporate clones. Black suits, white shirts and dark ties prevailed, topped off with identical and old-fashioned short back and sides haircuts. There were rumours regarding whether the guys who were no longer around had resigned or simply let go. I thought I would take the opportunity to find out.

‘I wondered where -’

‘You wondered, did you?’ Ms Pierce interrupted angrily. ‘It is not your place to wonder about matters unrelated to your own work. You must remain focused.’ She paused, her steely gaze daring me to contradict her. I decided to remain quiet. ‘With that in mind, to help you remain focused, today we will make a start with the women and, I’m delighted to inform you, that will commence with you,’ she stated grandly, emphasising her point by jabbing a finger in my direction.

I felt my heart sink. What had I done wrong? I had been working at this company for five years and had always been a diligent and hardworking employee. I could not understand why Ms Pierce had singled me out.

‘Sorry, I don’t -‘ I started to say, but Ms Pierce held up her hand to silence me while using the other to twirl the gentle highlighted waves of her long auburn hair around her finger.

‘As with the men, all women will be required to have their hair cut above their ears and off their neck,’ she announced matter-of-factly. ‘But only those staff below my grade,’ she smirked, continuing to play with her own long hair.

I was dumbstruck. My hair was a source of pride for me. It was long and thick, reaching past my waist, and I had never had any issues with it in the five years I had worked here. I could not understand why it was suddenly a problem.

‘So, follow me and I’ll introduce you to Mr Albert,’ Ms Pierce said, gesturing for me to fall in line behind her as she confidently marched out of her office.

Who was Mr Albert, I pondered, never having heard the name before but I presumed I was about to find out.

As we walked through the large open-plan office, I could feel everyone’s eyes upon me. No doubt they were wondering if the company had fired me or if something I had done had gone wrong. I could not blame them, as I was wondering the same thing myself.

Demands

We arrived at a glass-fronted meeting room, and Ms Pierce ushered me inside. A tall bald man, wearing a white jacket and a serious expression, was waiting for us. I could not help but feel a sense of unease once, having noted the surroundings, I deduced that he was likely to be a hairstylist.

The room, which we had previously used for meetings, had been repurposed as an austere but functional barbershop with a single large chair in the middle. All the other furniture was gone apart from a small table alongside the chair. Being glass-fronted, anyone in the open-plan office could view the activities in the room.

‘Sit, please, Catherine,’ Ms Pierce said, gesturing towards the barber’s chair. ‘This is Mr Albert, and he will be cutting your hair today and maintaining it on a weekly basis.’

Mr Albert smiled, clearly pleased by the prospect. I sat down in his huge chair, feeling nervous and confused. He enveloped me in a large white cape and, none too gently, combed through my long hair.

I still did not understand what was happening and why Ms Pierce was making such a big deal out of my appearance.

‘I don’t understand -‘ I started, but once again, Ms Pierce cut me off.

‘Do you wish to keep working here?’ she asked, her voice stern and uncompromising.

I racked my brain, trying to formulate a reason as to why I would not want to continue working here. I loved my job, and I had a good salary and benefits. I did not want to lose it all because of my hair.

‘Er, yes …’ I replied nervously, wondering if it might be a trick question.

‘Then, Catherine, you must learn to understand,’ Ms Pierce snapped.

‘But -’ I began, but Ms Pierce held up her palm to silence me, accompanied by her uncompromising stare.

‘Mr Albert is a very experienced barber and has been responsible for giving all the men their smart short back and sides. We may decide that it is the most appropriate style for the women as well, but today I have asked him to give you a bowlcut and we will see how we go,’ Ms Pierce said matter-of-factly. ‘Mr. Albert, please proceed.’

I could not believe what I was hearing. Ms Pierce was forcing me to have my long hair all chopped off and styled in a bowlcut? This was like a bad dream. I had always prided myself on my appearance and the company was now taking it away from me, all because of a silly new dress code that made no sense to me.

I sat rigidly, trying not to flinch, as Mr Albert brandished a huge pair of scissors. Grinning broadly, he placed the cold blades around the long locks hanging down from above my left ear. Pausing for effect, he then closed the blades together accompanied by a loud crunch. A long tendril of my hair snaked past my eyes, slid down the cape and gathered in my lap.

Mr Albert quickly moved to the next section of hair and repeated the process. With each snip, a part of me died inside. I could not understand why Ms Pierce was doing this, and I could not help but feel a sense of resentment towards her. She just stood to one side, arms folded commandingly over her chest, observing my torment with great relish.

It had taken years to grow my long hair but only seconds for it all to severed, with some gathering in my lap and the rest sliding to the floor. All that remained on my head was a short cap of hair, evenly cut around my head, finishing just above my ears. A blunt fringe covered my forehead, just above my eyebrows. He had cropped everything below the distinct cap remarkably short.

‘Mr Albert, I think perhaps we would prefer it if you could take it up half an inch higher all the way around?’ Ms Pierce suggested, leaning forward, and stabbing her finger high above my ear to indicate where she meant.

I shuddered, accepting she would prefer it higher, but knowing that we would not.

‘It would be my pleasure, Ms Pierce,’ Mr Albert responded, and his more cheerful grin quantified just how much additional pleasure it would give him.

The barber did as Ms Pierce had instructed and then he reached for hairclippers. ‘Rather than just leaving the back and sides cropped short, I thought I would shave them down to the skin, if that’s okay with you, Ms Pierce?’

‘Yes, that would be admirable, Mr Albert,’ Ms Pierce agreed.

I had a lump in my throat preventing me speaking as my hair became shorter and shorter. However, as my tormentors impassively discussed my imminent shaving, I could not stop myself letting out a small whimper of fear.

‘Ah, bless,’ Ms Pierce tittered, resuming her close observation of my shearing with arms authoritatively crossed over her chest.

As if things could not have gone worse, the feeling of the cold metal of the clippers sliding along my neck and around ears was excruciating. Despite the room having been repurposed as a barbershop, there was no fixed mirror. Ms Pierce’s victims were unable to see the progress of the barber’s destruction of their hair. I tried to close my mind to what was happening and to dream of being somewhere nicer.

‘Is that satisfactory, Ms Pierce?’ Mr Albert enquired, standing back to allow her closer examination.

After a prolonged inspection from every angle, Ms Pierce nodded her confirmation. ‘Excellent work, Mr Albert. Would you care to show Catherine the outcome of her delightful transformation,’ she added with an evil glint in her eye.

Mr Albert handed me a small mirror and I barely recognised myself. My hair was now a severe, unflattering bowl cut, and I could not believe this would be my uncompromising appearance going forward. I could feel tears threatening to spill from my eyes, but I refused to let them fall. I was not going to give Ms Pierce the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

Aftermath

As I walked back to my desk after my barbering, I could hear the whispers and stares from my coworkers. I could not help but feel embarrassed and humiliated. No one had ever treated me like this before, and I could not understand why Ms Pierce was doing it to me.

Over the next few days, it quickly became apparent that I was not being single out. Every one of my female colleagues that had not resigned, received an identical haircut. On the occasions I passed the “goldfish bowl” barbershop, I would see hair tumbling down and huge piles gathering around the fateful chair. A cheerful Mr Albert continued to be happy in his work and a gloating Ms Pierce carefully studied every single cut.

After a week I had seen my hair grow a little and noted that the shaved areas looked less stark. However, a weekly reminder placed in my calendar by Ms Pierce, ordered me back to Mr Albert for a trim. Without ceremony or emotion, the barber quickly restored my hair to its harsh appearance from a week earlier. Unlike those colleagues who had decided to leave, I wanted to keep my job and so I endured the continuing humiliation with all the dignity I could manage.

As much as I hated Ms Pierce and her rules, I could not deny the positive changes that were happening in the company. Productivity had increased, and the work environment was more professional. I could not believe it, but Ms Pierce’s radical methods were actually working.

And as much as I hated to admit it, my new haircut and wardrobe did make me feel more confident and professional. There was no wasted effort each morning deciding what to wear, and the time I saved caring for my hair throughout the day allowed me to become much less stressed and focus more on my work.

Emergence

After one month, the unimaginable happened. I found myself actually looking forward to my weekly haircut. Every Monday morning, I was conscientiously waiting outside Mr Albert’s barbershop to have my bowlcut refreshed. I felt renewed for the working week, and I was mindful of setting a good example to my colleagues. The company’s profits were soaring, and I had never been happier in my work.

A few months later, Ms Pierce unexpectedly summoned me to her office. I diligently reviewed my activities for the past few weeks and could recollect no issues that would have given rise to a reprimand. Despite that, I felt extremely nervous as I knocked on her office door.

‘Come in,’ Ms Pierce sung out. ‘Ah, Catherine. Please take a seat,’ she invited, jumping up from behind her desk.

It was in complete contrast to the last time I had she had summoned me to her office. ‘Thank you,’ I said simply, finding it hard to keep suspicion from my tone.

‘You look particularly smart this morning, Catherine,’ Ms Pierce continued. ‘An excellent example to your colleagues. Everything going well, I trust?’

Her praise stunned me. Words failed me. So, I simply smiled, and then nodded.

‘The Board and I have recognised your cheerful outlook to all the changes and your excellent and sizable contribution to improving the company’s profitability,’ Ms Pierce gushed.

Given my experience, I felt a “but” coming and I prepared myself for the worst.

‘Catherine, on behalf of the Board, I am delighted to inform you that you that we are offering you promotion to manager with a commensurate increase in salary and benefits. I trust you will accept.’

‘Yes, please,’ I blurted out and, although I could have hugged Ms Pierce, I thought it prudent not to.

‘Furthermore, given your strong work ethic and the trust you have earnt,’ Ms Pierce went on eagerly, ‘managers will have more latitude regarding their individual appearance.’

I was amazed, but my confusion clearly showed in my expression.

‘This means you will be allowed to grow your hair and style it differently to set you apart from the staff reporting to you,’ she pressed on encouragingly. ‘Naturally we expect you to remain smart, but you can wear brighter clothes too.’

‘Oh, I see,’ I pondered thoughtfully.

Ms Pierce frowned, clearly concerned she had said something to dampen my enthusiasm. ‘Catherine?’

‘Sorry, Ms Pierce, I do not wish to sound ungrateful. However, thanks to your guidance, I now strongly believe that having shorter hair is beneficial, both to myself and to the company, and -’

‘Well, I -’

I silenced her by emulating her raised palm gesture. ‘And I do rather enjoy Mr Albert clippering my hair each week and keeping it nice and tidy,’ I added awkwardly, blushing slightly.

‘Well, I never,’ Ms Pierce spluttered, ‘that is a very gratifying endorsement of my methods. Thank you, Catherine.’

‘You’re welcome, Ms Pierce, and I was wondering,’ I ventured, breathing excitedly, ‘whether, in my new role, I might reinforce the standards that you have established by, er … having my hair cut even shorter by Mr Albert?’

‘I can see the Board and I have made a very astute decision regarding your promotion, Catherine,’ Ms Pierce smiled, ‘and please do call me Amy. Now, shall we pop along to see Mr Albert straight away?’

‘Yes, please, Amy,’ I shrilled enthusiastically.

Refinement

As I followed Ms Amy Pierce along the corridor, I reflected on the past few months. When the Board has appointed her, I had been hesitant and resistant to change. But subsequently I looked back at her arrival as a turning point in my career. It had not only brought about a change in my appearance for the better but also a change in my attitude towards my work and the staff under me.

I had learned to embrace change and acknowledge the positive impact it can have, both professionally and personally. And for that, I would always be grateful to Ms Amy Pierce, the no-nonsense, purposeful Human Resources Director who I would seek to emulate in the future.

‘Hello Bertie, I have the newly promoted Catherine with me to have her haircut refined a little,’ Amy called out as we entered the makeshift barbershop.

‘Amy had already told me the good news, Catherine. Congratulations on your promotion,’ the barber said.

‘Thank you, Mr Albert,’ I replied, avoiding the use of the diminutive that Amy had surprisingly used. ‘I have loved you maintaining my bowlcut for the last few months and my hair has been much easier to care for than my previous style. However, in my new position, I would like to promote equality throughout the organisation. So, please could give me a traditional short back and sides haircut like you now give to all the men?’

‘Are you sure, Catherine?’ he asked, clearly shocked. ‘That’s a very severe style for a pretty woman such as yourself.’

‘Oh, yes, I’m completely sure, Mr Albert,’ I confirmed keenly, with a broad grin, ‘and straight away, please.’

As he enveloped me with the white cape, I exchanged a knowing smile with Amy. She stood watching in the wings as always. But she had adopted a relaxed pose, her expression projecting admiration, pride, and respect in equal measure.

As Mr Albert turned on the hairclippers, I shivered with delightful anticipation. Immediately, I bowed my head in submission and awaited the pleasurable touch of the metal blade on my neck. As I felt the clippers beginning their journey through the cap of hair that had covered my head for the past few months, I closed my eyes and revelled in the highly sensual experience.

The barber, as well as shaving the back of my head, sheared the overhanging hair on each side. This only left a section of hair several inches long swept back on my crown. He combed it through and then he created a distinct parting on one side. He blended the little hair that remained into the back and sides of my head that were completely bald.

Mr Albert retrieved a small glass tub containing a white cream that he massaged into my hair. Using his comb, he ensured my parting remained precise and my hair was lying flat to my head.

When Mr Albert showed me my transformation in the mirror, I squealed with delight. My glossy and severely cut hair exuded total professionalism and great efficiency. As I rejoiced in my new appearance, I looked forward to the time when I would observe the barber impose my exacting standards upon each of my team.

‘Thank you so much, Mr Albert,’ I said as he whisked away the cape.

‘My pleasure, Catherine,’ the barber grinned, ‘and I think you can call me Bertie whenever you are amongst friends. Oh, and you will now need to return at least twice a week for me to maintain such a precise haircut. I trust that will not be a problem?’

‘No, not all, Bertie,’ I giggled, rewarding him with a wink.

‘You’re an inspiration to us all, Catherine,’ Ms Pierce smiled.

Looking over to my mentor, I smiled. ‘I owe it all to you, Amy.’

Epilogue

As I returned to the office, observing the astounded looks of my staff, I realised that sometimes change, even if it is uncomfortable, can be for the better. And Amy, despite her strict ways, had made a positive impact on our company’s profitability and my future. With my promotion, I was determined to take things to the next level.

As much as I may have resented Amy at first, I could not help but feel grateful for her guidance and leadership. However, I wondered how long I would need to wait before gaining the approval of the Board to insist that she allow her expensively layered and highlighted long hair to succumb to Bertie’s clippers.