Why I want to be a “Daymaker.”

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 and 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 and spinning our wheels, agonizing over questions like:

“What is the secret to happiness and success and wealth and greatness and impact and legacy and leadership and innovation and how can I fulfill my highest purpose, every day?”

When really, all we oughta be asking is:

“How can I make someone’s day?”