Indian hair dresser
*A fictional alternate-history political rivalry and detailed barbershop haircut story*
—
# November 3, 2026
## Election Night
“At 10:00 PM Eastern Time, we can now project that the Democratic candidate has defeated Donald Trump in the 2026 presidential election!”
The announcement echoed through the living room.
“YES!” Lisa exclaimed, throwing both hands into the air. “YES! I KNEW IT! I ABSOLUTELY KNEW IT!”
My heart sank.
It was over.
I stared at the television, hoping that the news anchor would correct himself or that another state would somehow change the outcome. But the electoral map was becoming increasingly clear. In this fictional election, Trump’s campaign had suffered a devastating defeat, and the Democratic challenger was on the verge of a historic victory.
The networks were already calling the remaining decisive states.
Lisa was practically dancing in front of the television.
“Oh, this is BEAUTIFUL!” she shouted. “Look at that map! Look at those numbers!”
I couldn’t bear to watch.
We had flipped a coin at the beginning of the evening to determine which news channel we would watch. I had lost, which meant we were watching Fox News. Every time another state was called for the Democrats, the commentators discussed the political consequences, while Lisa made increasingly sarcastic remarks.
I had a lot invested in this election.
Not only was I a passionate supporter of the Democratic candidate, but I also had an enormous personal stake in the result.
A bet.
A very stupid bet.
Lisa finally turned away from the television and looked directly at me. Her expression was absolutely priceless. She had a mischievous smile stretching from ear to ear.
“Awww, Stacey. Looks like America finally made its decision.”
I swallowed.
“Lisa, please don’t start.”
“Don’t start? Are you kidding me? This is the greatest night of my political life!”
She pointed at the television.
“Your candidate lost. Trump lost. And most importantly, YOU LOST!”
She burst into laughter.
I sank deeper into the sofa.
I knew exactly what was coming next.
## How the Bet Started
Lisa was a Republican from a small town in Missouri. She had joined our company several years earlier, and despite our completely opposite political views, we had somehow become unlikely friends.
I was about as liberal as they came.
I regularly followed Democratic politics, attended political rallies, supported progressive causes, and was never shy about expressing my opinions.
Lisa was the complete opposite.
She was a lifelong conservative Republican, attended Republican rallies, followed conservative political commentators, and proudly displayed her political opinions on social media.
Our political disagreements were legendary at the office.
During the months leading up to the election, we had countless arguments about the candidates, campaign promises, the economy, immigration, healthcare, and the direction of the country.
Neither of us ever backed down.
When the 2026 campaign became increasingly heated, our arguments became even more personal.
One afternoon, during a particularly intense discussion in the office cafeteria, Lisa made a comment about my candidate’s chances.
I laughed.
“You’re seriously telling me Trump is going to win?”
She looked at me.
“Absolutely.”
“Not a chance.”
“Want to put something on it?”
I raised an eyebrow.
“What kind of something?”
Lisa looked at my hair.
At that time, I had long, thick, naturally black curly hair. It was one of my favourite features, and I spent considerable time taking care of it.
Lisa knew how much I loved it.
She smiled.
“How about a haircut bet?”
I laughed nervously.
“What?”
“Simple. If your candidate wins, you get to take me to a salon and choose whatever haircut you want for me. If Trump wins, I get to take you to a barber and choose whatever haircut I want for you.”
I looked at her.
“Anything?”
“Anything.”
“There’s one condition. Neither of us gets shaved completely bald.”
Lisa extended her hand.
“Agreed.”
I shook it.
At the time, I was so confident that I would win that I didn’t give the agreement much thought.
If I had won, my plan was already prepared.
I wanted to take Lisa to my favourite salon and have her ordinary brown hairstyle transformed into a very short, fashionable pixie cut.
I had even saved photographs of the hairstyle I wanted.
Lisa, however, never told me what she had planned.
That should have been my first warning.
## Lisa’s Plan
Back in the living room, Lisa was still celebrating.
She walked over and sat beside me.
“Well, Stacey, I suppose congratulations are in order.”
I forced a smile.
“Congratulations, Lisa.”
She laughed.
“Oh, don’t look so miserable. This is a historic moment!”
Then she reached over and gathered a handful of my long black curls.
She slowly ran her fingers through them.
“Look at all this hair.”
I immediately pulled away.
“Lisa.”
“What?”
“Don’t.”
She smiled.
“Don’t what? I’m just admiring the hair I’m about to help you get rid of.”
My stomach tightened.
“You haven’t even told me what you’re planning.”
“That’s because I want it to be a surprise.”
“Lisa, seriously. What are you going to do?”
She gathered another section of my hair and examined its thickness.
“Well, I can tell you that a normal salon visit isn’t part of the plan.”
I stared at her.
“What does that mean?”
She laughed.
“Let’s just say you’ll be visiting a very good friend of mine.”
I tried to remain calm.
“Congratulations, Lisa. Your candidate had the better campaign.”
She immediately recognized my attempt to flatter her.
“Ha! Don’t think buttering me up is going to get you out of this, Stacey. Typical Democrat. You’re very confident when you’re making promises, but when it’s time to pay up, suddenly you want negotiations.”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? You signed the agreement yourself!”
She patted my knee and stood up.
“Anyway, it’s getting late. You have a big day tomorrow.”
I looked up.
“Tomorrow?”
“Of course. I’ve already arranged everything.”
“Where?”
“Walt’s Barbershop.”
I blinked.
“Barbershop?”
“Yes, sweetheart. Walt’s Barbershop. Eleven thirty in the morning.”
“Lisa, that’s ridiculous. Why can’t we go to a normal salon?”
“Because I have a specific haircut in mind, and I want an experienced barber to do it.”
I felt my mouth go dry.
“What haircut?”
She picked up her handbag.
“Oh, I don’t want to ruin the surprise.”
Then she turned around.
“One more thing. Wear your Obama T-shirt tomorrow. Or your favourite Democratic campaign shirt. I think it will make the photographs much better.”
She laughed as she walked toward the door.
“Sleep tight, Stacey. Tomorrow is going to be memorable.”
The door closed.
I sat there in silence.
For the next hour, I couldn’t stop thinking about the appointment.
Eventually, I went upstairs and stood in front of my bedroom mirror.
I gathered my long curls and pulled them forward over both shoulders.
They were thick, heavy, and considerably longer than shoulder length.
I ran my fingers through them, looking at the ends.
I had spent years growing my hair.
I had no idea what Lisa intended to do, but I knew there was a good chance I wouldn’t recognize myself afterward.
I finally climbed into bed.
I held my curls close to my chest and cried myself to sleep.
—
# November 4, 2026
## The Day After Election Night
My alarm woke me at 7:00 the following morning.
For a few seconds, I completely forgot about the previous night.
Then I remembered the election.
And the bet.
And the barbershop.
I sat up immediately.
The first thing I did was touch my hair.
It was still there.
My long black curls were spread across my shoulders and down my back.
I got out of bed and walked into the bathroom.
I wanted to make the most of the last few hours.
I turned on the shower and washed my hair carefully. I used my usual shampoo and conditioner, taking extra time to massage my scalp.
After rinsing, I gently squeezed out the excess water.
I wrapped my hair in a towel and waited several minutes before beginning to comb it.
I started at the ends, working slowly upward to avoid damaging the curls.
Normally, I enjoyed this routine.
That morning, every movement felt like saying goodbye.
After drying my hair, I stood in front of the full-length mirror.
I turned around and examined the back.
Then I gathered everything into one thick ponytail.
I couldn’t help wondering how much of it would be left after the appointment.
I took several photographs on my phone.
A front photograph.
A side photograph.
A full back photograph.
I wanted to preserve the memory.
After breakfast, I put on my Democratic campaign T-shirt and a pair of jeans.
My phone vibrated.
It was Lisa.
**Lisa:** Good morning, election loser!
**Me:** Please don’t start.
**Lisa:** Be ready at 10:45.
**Me:** I thought the appointment was 11:30.
**Lisa:** We need time to enjoy the occasion.
**Me:** You’re enjoying this way too much.
**Lisa:** You have absolutely no idea.
I put the phone down.
At 10:45 sharp, Lisa arrived.
She was wearing a cheerful expression and carrying her handbag.
“Ready?”
“No.”
“Perfect. Let’s go.”
## The Drive to Walt’s
The drive seemed endless.
I sat in the passenger seat, looking out of the window.
Lisa had the election coverage playing on the radio.
The commentators were discussing the results, the unexpected swing in several states, and the political consequences of Trump’s defeat.
Lisa turned up the volume.
“Listen to that! What a night!”
I didn’t respond.
She glanced at me.
“Still upset?”
“Not about the election anymore.”
She laughed.
“Well, you’ll have something else to think about soon.”
I looked at her.
“Lisa, can you at least tell me whether you’re planning something reasonable?”
She smiled.
“Of course.”
I waited.
“Reasonably short.”
“That’s not funny.”
She burst out laughing.
A few minutes later, we turned into the parking lot of Walt’s Barbershop.
I recognized the building immediately from the photographs Lisa had shown me the previous evening.
It was a traditional American barbershop with a large sign above the entrance.
Lisa parked her SUV.
“Here we are!”
I took a deep breath.
“Can we please reconsider?”
She opened her door.
“Nope.”
She walked around and opened mine.
“Come on, Stacey. Time to pay your debt.”
—
# Inside the Barbershop
I stepped inside.
The first thing I noticed was the smell.
There was a mixture of shaving cream, aftershave, hair products, and the unmistakable smell of a working barbershop.
The second thing I noticed was the sound.
BZZZZZZZZ!
An electric clipper was running somewhere behind me.
Another barber was using scissors.
The sound of combs, clippers, and casual conversations filled the room.
It was a completely different atmosphere from the comfortable salon I was accustomed to visiting.
There were three barber chairs arranged in front of large mirrors.
The walls were decorated with American flags, vintage barber advertisements, photographs of famous military personnel, and pictures of former presidents.
A television in the corner was showing election analysis.
There were several men waiting for their haircuts.
One customer was having his hair trimmed with scissors.
Another was receiving a close fade.
The third chair was occupied by a young man getting a traditional buzzcut.
Lisa looked around approvingly.
“This is my kind of place.”
I wasn’t convinced.
An older man behind the first chair looked up.
“Good morning, ladies!”
“Morning, Walt,” Lisa replied.
“You’re here for Gina?”
“Yes, sir.”
He smiled.
“She’s in the back. She’ll be out shortly.”
Lisa motioned toward the reception counter.
“Go ahead and sign us in, Stacey.”
I walked over.
There was a clipboard with a sign-in sheet.
I wrote down my name, arrival time, and the requested barber.
**Name:** Stacey
**Appointment:** 11:30 AM
**Barber:** Gina
I returned to the waiting area.
Lisa sat comfortably in one of the leather chairs.
I sat beside her, trying to keep my hair arranged neatly over my shoulders.
“You’re awfully quiet,” she said.
“I’m thinking.”
“About?”
“My hair.”
She laughed.
“Well, that’s going to be a very short conversation in a few minutes.”
I gave her an annoyed look.
Just then, I heard a woman’s voice from the back room.
“Lisa?”
Lisa immediately stood up.
“Gina!”
A moment later, a woman emerged from the back.
She was approximately five feet two inches tall, with a confident personality and a very short dark pixie haircut.
She wore a fitted black T-shirt, black jeans, and comfortable sneakers.
The two women greeted each other enthusiastically.
They clearly knew each other well.
Gina looked toward me.
“So this is Stacey?”
Lisa nodded.
“That’s her. The famous election loser.”
Gina laughed.
“Well, hello there!”
She examined my hair.
“Wow. That’s some serious length.”
I smiled awkwardly.
“Thank you.”
Gina looked at Lisa.
“So, are we ready to make a big change?”
Lisa nodded enthusiastically.
“Absolutely.”
Gina patted the barber chair.
“Come on, Stacey. Let’s get you settled.”
—
# The Haircut Consultation
I slowly walked toward the chair.
Gina adjusted its height and motioned for me to sit.
I lowered myself into the seat.
The chair was considerably different from the salon chairs I was used to.
It was heavy, leather-covered, and had metal armrests.
Gina adjusted the footrest and positioned me directly in front of the large mirror.
Lisa took a seat in the waiting area where she could watch everything.
Gina began examining my hair.
She picked up a comb and gently worked through the curls.
“Your hair is naturally curly, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“And quite thick.”
“Yes.”
“How long have you been growing it?”
“Several years.”
Gina nodded.
“That’s a lot of growth.”
Lisa interrupted.
“Well, she won’t need to worry about maintaining all that length anymore.”
Gina laughed.
“Okay, Lisa. What exactly did you have in mind?”
Lisa stood up and walked over to the counter.
She opened her phone and showed Gina a reference photograph.
I couldn’t see the photograph clearly.
Gina examined it.
“Very short?”
“Yes. I want a proper clipper haircut.”
“How short on the sides?”
“Zero.”
Gina nodded.
“And the top?”
“Number two was what I originally considered.”
I looked at Lisa.
“Number two?”
She smiled.
“That’s right.”
Gina continued.
“Would you like a fade?”
Lisa shook her head.
“No. Keep the back and sides very short and clean. I want a neat, uniform result.”
Gina considered the remaining length.
“With this much hair, I’ll need to remove most of the length first before using the clippers.”
“That’s fine,” Lisa replied.
I finally spoke.
“Lisa, please. Can we at least leave a little more on top?”
She turned toward me.
“Stacey, you had your chance to choose my haircut. I didn’t negotiate.”
“You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely.”
Gina smiled.
“All right. Let’s get started.”
—
# Preparing for the Cut
Gina stood behind me and gathered my long curls.
She combed them backward, lifting them away from my face.
Then she placed a large clip at the crown to temporarily hold the upper sections.
She reached for a white disposable neck strip.
“Lift your chin slightly.”
I raised my head.
She wrapped the strip around my neck, making sure it sat comfortably and didn’t trap any hair.
Next, she unfolded a large black barber cape.
The cape covered my shoulders, chest, arms, and lap.
Gina secured it at the back of my neck.
She checked that everything was properly fastened.
“Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
She released the clip holding my hair.
My long curls fell over the cape.
They spread across my shoulders and extended down my back.
Gina combed through them again.
Lisa leaned forward.
“Look at all that hair!”
Gina gathered the entire length into her hands.
“Before we start with the clippers, we’ll remove the bulk.”
She reached for a comb and sectioning clips.
I watched her divide my hair into several horizontal sections.
First, she created a parting from one side of my head to the other, separating the upper hair from the lower back section.
She clipped the upper section securely.
Then she divided the remaining lower hair into manageable portions.
The process took several minutes because my hair was thick.
Gina checked each section carefully.
“Okay. That’s much easier to work with.”
She took a large elastic band and secured the first section.
Then she gathered the next section.
Soon, several thick ponytail-like bundles were hanging behind me.
I could feel the tension as Gina secured them.
Lisa walked closer.
“Are you ready?”
I looked at her.
“Not even slightly.”
She laughed.
—
# The First Major Cut
Gina picked up her professional haircutting scissors.
She held the first thick section between her fingers.
She combed it straight and positioned the scissors several inches below the elastic band.
“Here we go.”
I closed my eyes.
SNIP!
The sound was surprisingly loud.
A thick section of black curly hair separated from my head.
Gina placed the bundle on the counter.
I immediately felt lighter.
I opened my eyes and looked at the mirror.
A significant portion of my length was gone.
Lisa clapped.
“One down!”
Gina moved to the next section.
She gathered the hair, combed it, secured it, and positioned the scissors.
SNIP!
Another large bundle came away.
She continued working methodically.
Each section was gathered tightly, measured, and cut.
The counter gradually became covered with thick black hair.
Some sections were longer than others, but every bundle represented years of growth.
I could hear Lisa commenting after every cut.
“Look at that!”
“That’s enormous!”
“Wow, Stacey. You really did have a lot of hair.”
Eventually, Gina released the remaining upper sections.
The long curls fell forward over my shoulders.
She divided them into smaller sections and repeated the process.
SNIP.
SNIP.
SNIP.
Another bundle.
And another.
After several minutes, the majority of my long hair had been removed.
Gina combed through what remained.
The hair was now short enough for the clipper work to begin.
I looked at myself in the mirror.
I barely recognized the shape of my hairstyle.
But I knew this was only the beginning.
—
# The Back and Sides
Gina reached for her professional electric clippers.
She inspected the blades and attached the appropriate setting.
Then she plugged the machine into the outlet.
She pressed the switch.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZ!
The buzzing sound filled the shop.
I immediately tightened my fingers around the chair’s armrests.
Lisa smiled.
“Now we’re getting somewhere.”
Gina stood behind me.
“Stacey, tilt your chin down for me.”
I lowered my head.
She placed her free hand gently against the back of my head to keep it steady.
Then the cold clipper blade touched the nape of my neck.
BZZZZZZZZ!
Gina moved the clippers upward in a slow, steady stroke.
A narrow strip of remaining hair disappeared.
She lifted the clippers away, brushed the loose hair aside, and repeated the movement.
Another pass.
And another.
The back of my head was gradually becoming shorter.
Gina worked from the centre toward the right side, making overlapping passes to ensure an even result.
She then moved toward the left.
The remaining hair was reduced to a very short layer.
Lisa leaned forward.
“That’s looking good!”
Gina continued until the lower back was completely uniform.
She then tilted my head slightly to the right.
“Let’s do this side.”
She positioned the clippers near my right sideburn.
BZZZZZZZZ!
The clippers moved upward, removing the remaining hair around the ear.
She carefully worked around the curve of my ear.
A second pass removed the slightly longer patches.
Then she moved higher toward the temple.
The right side was now extremely short.
Gina moved around to the left.
“Keep looking straight ahead.”
I tried to follow her instructions.
The clippers touched the left side.
BZZZZZZZZ!
The same process repeated.
Short upward strokes.
Careful overlapping passes.
Cleaning around the ear.
Checking the sideburn.
Removing every remaining longer section.
The hair fell onto the cape and gathered around my shoulders.
I could feel cool air against my newly exposed neck and the sides of my head.
When Gina finally switched off the clippers, the buzzing stopped.
I lifted my head.
“Is that it?”
Gina smiled.
“For the back and sides, yes.”
I looked toward the mirror.
The transformation was already dramatic.
The back and both sides were extremely short.
Lisa stood up.
“Oh, this is fantastic!”
She walked behind me and gently ran her fingers across the back of my head.
“Look at that. It’s practically nothing!”
I swallowed.
—
# The Number Zero
Gina removed the attachment and examined the result.
Lisa stepped closer.
“Can we make it even cleaner?”
Gina nodded.
“Of course. I’ll finish the back and sides with the zero setting.”
She adjusted the clippers.
I looked at Lisa.
“You said I wouldn’t be bald.”
Lisa smiled.
“And you’re not going to be bald.”
Gina began at the nape.
The clippers made several careful passes, cleaning up the remaining stubble.
She worked upward and around the lower back of my head.
Then she moved to the sides.
The result was a very close, nearly bare finish.
I could feel the difference immediately.
The back of my head felt rough and prickly, almost like very short beard stubble.
The sides were similarly close.
Gina brushed away the loose hair and examined the shape.
Lisa ran her fingers across the back again.
“Oh, that’s exactly what I wanted!”
I looked at my reflection.
The back and sides were almost completely bare.
Only the top still had noticeable length.
And Lisa wasn’t finished.
—
# The Final Decision: Number One on Top
Gina removed the clips holding the remaining upper hair.
The shortened hair fell over the crown and forehead.
She combed it forward.
Lisa studied it carefully.
“Originally, I told you number two on top, didn’t I?”
Gina nodded.
“That’s right.”
Lisa looked at me.
“But you know what? Let’s make it number one.”
My eyes widened.
“NUMBER ONE?”
Lisa laughed.
“Yes. Number one.”
“Lisa, that’s extremely short!”
“That’s the point.”
Gina looked at the reference photograph again.
“Number one will give you a uniform buzzcut.”
Lisa nodded.
“Perfect.”
Gina reached for the appropriate clipper guard.
CLICK.
The number-one guard snapped into place.
She checked that it was securely attached.
Then she switched on the machine.
BZZZZZZZZZZ!
I stared at the mirror.
Gina positioned herself in front of me.
“Keep your head still.”
She placed the clippers near my forehead.
The first stroke moved backward over the top.
A strip of hair disappeared immediately.
I watched as the short black curls fell onto the cape.
Gina lifted the clippers, repositioned them, and made another pass.
Then another.
She worked across the front section, moving gradually toward the crown.
The longer curls were disappearing beneath the clipper guard.
Within moments, the entire front section was reduced to a uniform short layer.
Gina continued toward the middle.
She made overlapping strokes to ensure that no uneven patches remained.
Then she moved toward the crown.
This area required several careful passes because of the natural direction of my hair growth.
She combed the hair forward again and checked the length.
Another pass.
Then one more.
Lisa was thoroughly entertained.
“Look at her! I can’t believe how different she looks already!”
Gina smiled.
“Almost there.”
She continued across the remaining top section.
Finally, she switched off the clippers.
I looked at the mirror.
The long curly hairstyle I had entered the shop with was completely gone.
My entire head now had a short, uniform buzzcut.
—
# Detailing and Finishing
Gina wasn’t finished yet.
She removed the number-one guard and reached for her smaller detailing trimmer.
She checked the hairline around my forehead.
Then she cleaned up the edges near both temples.
She worked carefully around my ears, removing any uneven strands.
Next, she moved to the neckline.
The trimmer made a quiet buzzing sound as she refined the outline.
She brushed away the loose hair.
Then she checked the crown and sides again.
Gina used a handheld mirror to inspect the back.
“Looks even.”
She made two final adjustments.
Then she picked up a soft barber brush and dusted my forehead, cheeks, ears, and neck.
She removed the cape slightly to brush away the loose hair underneath.
“All finished.”
I sat motionless.
Lisa looked delighted.
“Fantastic, Gina!”
Gina smiled.
“Thank you. That was quite a transformation.”
—
# The Mirror Reveal
Lisa walked toward the waiting area.
“Well, I think it’s time for Stacey to see her new look properly.”
Gina released the chair lock.
She slowly rotated the barber chair toward the large mirror.
I wasn’t ready.
I had been avoiding looking directly at myself throughout the haircut.
Now there was nowhere to hide.
The person looking back at me seemed like a completely different woman.
My long black curls were gone.
The back and sides were clipped extremely close.
The top was reduced to a short number-one buzzcut.
My forehead, ears, temples, and the shape of my head were completely exposed.
I stared.
I slowly raised my right hand and touched the top.
The short hair felt rough and velvety beneath my fingertips.
I moved my hand toward the back.
It was even shorter there.
I turned my head slightly to inspect the side.
Then Gina handed me the smaller mirror.
I held it behind my head and looked at the reflection in the large mirror.
The back was almost completely bare.
I couldn’t believe it.
Lisa stood beside the chair, smiling.
“Well, Stacey? How do you like it?”
I finally managed to speak.
“I look completely different.”
Lisa laughed.
“That’s because you are completely different!”
Gina removed the cape and neck strip.
A large quantity of short black hair fell from the cape onto the floor.
She brushed my shoulders and neck.
“All done, Stacey. It’s a very clean buzzcut.”
Lisa walked behind me one final time.
She gently rubbed the top of my head.
“Congratulations. You’ve officially joined the short-hair club.”
I sighed.
“You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”
“Not a chance.”
—
# The Bill and the Cleanup
I stood up from the barber chair.
My head felt incredibly light.
For several seconds, I simply stood there, trying to get used to the sensation.
Lisa collected her handbag.
Then she turned toward me.
“One more thing.”
I looked at her.
“What now?”
“The bill.”
I frowned.
“You’re joking.”
“Nope. You need to pay Gina.”
“But I thought the bet covered everything!”
“The bet covered choosing the haircut. It didn’t cover the cost.”
I opened my purse.
Fortunately, I had brought some cash.
Gina gave me the bill.
Lisa added a tip.
“She did an excellent job. Make sure she gets a good tip.”
I paid.
Then I noticed the enormous pile of hair on the floor.
Gina began sweeping the area around the chair.
Lisa looked at me.
“Well, Stacey, I think you should help clean up your little contribution.”
I stared at her.
“Seriously?”
She laughed.
“Why not? Look at all the hair!”
Gina smiled.
“Actually, I could use an extra pair of hands.”
I took the broom.
I started sweeping the hair into a pile.
There were long black bundles from the initial cuts, shorter curls from the clipper work, and tiny pieces of stubble scattered around the chair.
I gathered everything into the dustpan.
It was strange seeing so much of my hair on the floor.
Gina showed me where to dispose of it.
By the time I finished, the shop looked clean again.
Lisa checked her watch.
“Well, I think we’ve had a very successful morning.”
I gave her a look.
She burst out laughing.
—
# Epilogue
## Returning to Work
My return to the office was considerably worse than I had imagined.
I entered the building wearing my usual clothes, but I couldn’t hide the new haircut.
People noticed immediately.
Some stared.
Some whispered.
Others simply laughed when they recognized me.
One colleague approached.
“Stacey? Is that really you?”
I nodded.
“What happened to your hair?”
“Long story.”
Lisa appeared behind me.
“Election consequences!”
She laughed.
Throughout the morning, people kept asking about the haircut.
Some wanted to know whether I had done it voluntarily.
Others asked whether I had joined the military.
One colleague even joked that I could save a fortune on shampoo.
Lisa was enjoying every second.
She walked around the office telling everyone the story of our bet.
At lunchtime, she posted a photograph of us outside Walt’s Barbershop.
Her caption read:
**”Promises made. Promises kept. Congratulations to the election winner and the new Stacey!”**
The photograph received dozens of likes and comments.
I wanted to disappear.
But the worst part came later that afternoon.
My manager called me into her office.
I entered and sat down.
She looked at me for a moment.
“Stacey, I wanted to discuss the management position.”
I immediately became interested.
I had been working toward that promotion for several months.
She explained that the company had originally considered me for the position, but recent discussions had changed the decision.
I frowned.
“What discussions?”
She hesitated.
“We’ve decided to offer the position to Lisa.”
I stared at her.
“Lisa?”
“Yes. She’ll be taking over the team next month.”
I couldn’t believe it.
I left the office feeling completely defeated.
Lisa was waiting outside.
She looked at me.
“Everything okay?”
I didn’t answer.
She smiled.
“Oh, don’t tell me. Did you hear the promotion news?”
I stopped walking.
“You knew?”
“Of course.”
She gave me a cheerful smile.
“Looks like I’m going to be your manager now.”
I stared at her.
“You’re enjoying this way too much.”
She laughed.
“Well, Stacey, what can I say? It’s been a very successful election season for me.”
I returned to my desk.
For the rest of the day, I tried to concentrate on work.
But every time I passed a reflective surface, I saw the same unfamiliar hairstyle.
My long curls were gone.
The back and sides were almost bare, and the top was still extremely short.
I knew it would take a considerable amount of time to grow my hair back to its previous length.
And Lisa would probably remind me of that fact every single day.
The following Monday, I would officially be reporting to her.
I had no idea what the new working arrangement would be like.
But I had learned one very important lesson.
Never, under any circumstances, make a political bet involving your hair.
Especially when your opponent is Lisa.
