I’ve had a lot of haircuts in my life.
I don’t remember most of them.
But this one? I’ll never forget.
He was a hip young stylist — eager, ebullient, not more than twenty or twenty-one.
I recall a polka dot shirt, a vivid purple bow tie, a rockabilly ‘do + a whole lot of flair.
His passion for his craft beamed through every pore.
It was there, in the scalp massage he extended just a feee-ew minutes longer than necessary.
In the way he lovingly worked in that aromatherapy conditioner — adjusting my neck in the cradle, just so.
In the way he trimmed my bangs with careful precision — and even offering to add a touch of make-up, at the end.
Completely above and beyond, in every way. And the kicker? He was just an apprentice. The lowest-paid stylist of the bunch.
As he brushed a few stray hairs off my shoulders, I noticed a gleaming trophy by the mirror.
“What’s that?” I asked.
“Oh, that?” he said. “That’s my Daymaker Award.”
“What’s that mean?”
“Well,” he said, matter of factly. “When a stylist does a great job — you know, really makes someone’s day — they get nominated by the customers and also the other stylists. The person with the most nominations gets the Daymaker Award.”
“Well, you definitely made my day.”
“Thank you. May I have your address, so I can send you a ‘thank you’ note?”
“You have got to be kidding me … YES!”
. . .
When you meet a true Daymaker, the soul-residue doesn’t wash off after a couple shampoos.
And that fateful haircut left me wondering about things. Big things. Deep things.
Like what if, maybe, we’re all wasting our time + spinning our wheels, agonizing over questions like:
“What is the secret to happiness + success + wealth + greatness + impact + legacy + leadership + innovation + how can I fulfill my highest purpose, every day?”
When really, all we oughta be asking is:
“How can I make someone’s day?”