I recount the details of my haircut to my bar manager. What guy doesn’t want to hear everything about my trip to the salon?
Halfway through my haircut, my hairdresser bends over, buries her face in my hair and takes a big sniff. She exclaims,
“Your hair smells sooo good.”
I tell my bar manager,
“But all she does all day is put good smelling stuff in people’s hair.”
“She’s got the right job. That is a woman who loves hair.”