March 02, 2006
Hair Stories V
From: Noel
Sent: 12:31 PM
To: Zaphod
Subject: FW: I signed YOU up for this one...OTOH, all my other friends had to *cut* their hair when they worked for a law firm.
I'll probably start getting better service at Lupi's too.
Still, I feel...used.
N--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Zaphod
Sent: 12:31 PM
To: Noel
Subject: FW: I signed YOU up for this one...
I told you that you are a valuable member of our team. Here's proof.--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
From: Ford
Sent: 12:27 PM
To: Zaphod
Subject: RE: I signed YOU up for this one...
I plan to grow diversity by forbidding Noel to cut his hair, thereby having one IT member with an Afro.
--Ford
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From: Zaphod
Sent: 12:10 PM
To: Ford
Subject: I signed YOU up for this one...
Women and Technology: Dream, Code, Run
Day/Time: Tuesday, September 13 11:45 AM- 1:00 PM Room: 402 AB
Session Type(s): Lunch Session
This panel covers how women have used their intelligence and creativity to excel in the software industry. Hear from women IT professionals who are successful in a male-dominated industry. Learn, connect, and engage at this networking panel where your questions drive the agenda, and hear tips and tricks on how to succeed as a woman developer or technical professional in the computer sciences and technology marketing. Both men and women are invited to join in the conversation, and learn from each other about how to grow diversity in the IT industry.
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Zaphod Beeblebrox
IT Application Developer
Ext. XXX
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Posted by Noel at 05:32 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
December 16, 2005
Hair Stories VI
So I'm in Dillard's, the anchor store for my old home town's mall. Browsing for prom duds with a buddy. Yes, a man-date.
Down the men's aisle struts a short, balding man with a one of those horse-shoe ponytails, a voluminous purple silk shirt, and a scale replica of a golden dragonfly perched upon his shoulder. I straighten from examining a (clothes) rack and stare in incredulity. My friend, not missing a beat, cuts in front of me and exchanges pleasantries. Mr. Dragonfly flits off, tossing a "Hey, nice hair. You're pretty cute too," to me as he buzzes out of the department.
I'm paralyzed for a moment, but my friend grabs my arm and guides me down the aisle, out of hearing range. Then he stops, grins, turns, and says, "So, now you've met my barber."
Posted by Noel at 05:35 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
November 04, 2005
Hair Stories IV
I take my lunch to the park across the street, the award-winning and humanely-designed Miller Plaza, a few times a week. One Wednesday, I was meeting my wife for a nice break. Our mouths were full of food as we looked into each other's eyes lovingly. Two old ladies got up a couple of tables over, chattering loudly. I paid no mind, until one of them said something indistinct rather loudly. I looked up, and she was looking at me. I had no idea if she was talking to me, and locked eyes with her and did some sort of goofy pantomime to indicate such, since verbal communication was failing. Lady 2 intervened, "What she is telling you is that you have gorgeous hair." Lady 1 quickly followed, "Have people told you that before?" I replied in the affirmative, and broadly indicated the large population of such. Lady 1, undeterred, continued, "Well, we saw you and thought 'he has such beautiful hair', and we were so jealous. That's what every woman wants."
Thanks, ladies. I'll be here all week.
Posted by Noel at 05:32 PM | Comments (2) | TrackBack
September 30, 2005
Hair Stories III
The Thanksgiving of my freshman year of college saw me on the road, driving the 800-odd miles from Lookout Mountain to my hometown, a place that I label quite confidently The Cultural Center of Oklahoma, Bartlesville. The day turned into night, and I drove on, and on, and on.
The road keeps going, and so I follow.
Around 10pm, I needed to revitalize the brain and limbs, so I took a promising exit based off of the friendly-looking gas station signs. I settled on a Flying J truck stop in Arkansas. I got out, filled up, stretched, jumped jacks, and finally moseyed into the store. I beelined to the beverage section and picked my beverage of the time, SoBe.
For the record, I was drinking that stuff back in 1997, which makes me cooler than you.
As I was selecting, before the glass door obscures with condensation, I catch the reflection of the lady at the register checking me out. This was not unusual back in the day. I mean, I played soccer in high school, worked out regularly, and had long brown hair down to my neck. I was pretty studly, back in the day.
A youngish face, I thought, and upon turning heel and approaching the counter I had to take away a few epistemic credibility points from my senses. Rather matronly, in fact. Bishop Berkley smiled from heaven.
So I pay for gas, the SoBe, and say "please", "thank-you", and "ma'am", just like a good Midwestern boy. As we finished the transaction, she holds her gaze and asks, "Honey, you probably get asked all the time, but can I touch your hair?" And she did.
Posted by Noel at 05:34 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack
August 18, 2005
Hair stories II
So there I was. Sunday morning, January 6, 2005 or whatnot, sitting in a converted barn on the backside of Lookout Mountain, and flushed with pride. My ring finger was uncharacteristically heavy, and to my right was a beautiful woman that I had just spirited away from the remote island of her birth. Of course, you expect your pastor to call you out as a newlywed at some point during the service. What I didn't expect was that instead of remarking on what I would think the obvious things (her gorgeousness, our recent return from Hawaii, the fact that I had that silly grin of triumph on my face), he instead notes that Noel & Elissa Weichbrodt are present, and recently married. To identify the happy couple, he helpfully noted, Noel is "that guy with the fancy hair over there."
That's it. No mention of how to identify Elissa, no mention of our new place of residence, nada. The happiest union of my life, and the announcement of it is overshadowed (literally, some might imagine) by my hair. It's not easy being distinctive.
Posted by Noel at 05:38 PM | Comments (1) | TrackBack
June 17, 2005
Bob Corker Just Said He Likes My Hair
When unexpected things happen to me, I don't react quickly unless pressed. This is to say, I am slow-witted. I can always think of an incisive comeback or pertinent question--usually right before I fall asleep. But not always. Today, unfortunately, there was no mistaking me for a courtier or comic.
"Boy, I would sure be happy with a head of hair like that!" quipped the former mayor of Chattanooga as he exited the men's room.
Now, many people have commented, and usually in a flatteringly-favorable fashion, about my bouffant. Some have, in Dionysian fits, touched, twaddle, twirled, and stroked it, usually without its owners consent.
But this marks a new apogee of fame for my locks, their most famous fan yet. Should Mr. Bob Corker win his Senate 2006 campaign, my hair will have been recognized by one of only an august hundred of the people’s representatives. Perhaps he’ll introduce a bill for me or something. Then I shall rule the known world!
Back to my response, or more properly, back to my lack of a response. Being situated in an unaccommodating position in the men’s room, I could not turn and face Mr. Corker, which took up the valuable mental processing time that was otherwise needed to formulate a crafty and clever response. So instead I twisted my head around and in an unnaturally loud voice for such close quarters backhanded a “Thanks, thank you…”, whipping my neck back from it’s untenable position and possibly inducing whiplash. Don’t worry, I’m not suing. But I work for a law firm, and the only time I see people is during bathroom forays.
Posted by Noel at 05:30 PM | Comments (4) | TrackBack