Monday, October 14, 2013

Monday Morning Stories With Mookie - Episode 88

The Time Mookie Got His Hair Colored In A Bathroom At Work

This one goes back several years when my wife and I both worked for the same employer. One particular evening, my wife decided she was going to put “highlights” in her hair.  When she finished administering the mix to her own head, she asked if I wanted highlights because she had "plenty left over." Initially I said no, but after she asked me a few more times - I finally said yes.

I sat there calmly as my wife painted the cold and smelly mixture onto my hair with some sort of special applicator that created the highlights effect. Finally, after the mixture was added to my head and we waited the appropriate amount of time, it was time to rinse and dry my hair.
Rinse, rinse, rinse.  Dry, dry, dry.  Then I looked in the mirror.
This is what I pictured when I looked at my hair.

My wife stifled a laugh as I looked and quickly noticed I did NOT have highlights. I had blotches. They were all over my head, and made me look like a god-damned giraffe.  She tried to reassure me by saying it didn't "look that bad," and somewhat commiserated with me because hers also didn't turn out well either. I laughed a bit, and somewhat convinced myself it wasn't "that horrible" and we went to bed.

I woke up the next morning to get ready for work and found my wife blow drying her hair in the bathroom with a slight grin on her face. When I looked at her - I quickly noticed all of her hair was all the same shade of brown - and not full of odd highlights. "YOU RE-DYED YOUR HAIR!"

She said she had an extra box of brown hair dye in the cupboard, so she fixed it quick before she got ready.  She told me we could pick up a box of my hair color that day, and fix mine when we got home. That was great and everything...except I still had to go to work. Again, I attempted to convince myself it wasn't that bad and went to work.

Regardless of what I was trying to tell myself, I knew people would ask questions about my funny looking hair - so I made the most direct and quietest arrival to my desk. Once I got settled, I received a phone call from my soon-to-be-new manager.  I had just accepted a new position in the group and would be working a whole new team of people I didn't really know. She said she was having a team meeting that morning at 10, and wondered if I would like to join them and meet the group. "Yeah. Sure."  Son. Of. A. Bitch.

I did NOT want my first impression on my new group to be that of the giraffe-haired d-bag, so I had to do something - now.  I called my wife at her desk and I tell her of the current predicament. The conversation went something similar to as follows:
Wife: Hi.
Me: Hey.
Wife: What's up?
Me: Um, I was just invited to my soon-to-be-new team's team meeting at 10.
Wife: Ohh no. 
Me: Yeah.
Wife:  Ok, I can fix it. I will walk down to the drug store and get some hair dye and be right back. Meet me at the bathrooms in the basement in 20 minutes.

Twenty minutes later, we discreetly slipped into the ladies bathroom in the basement of the building, and she went to work returning my hair to its regular (or as regular as you can get with a box of dye) color. We knew that bathroom was not a heavy traffic destination, so we didn't feel too bad about occupying it for 20-30 minutes while we restored my hair to its regular luster.

Color, color, color. Rinse, rinse, rinse. Dry, dry, dry.  Result: Not too bad.  At least I didn't look like a giraffe-ophile.  The next step: A husband and wife discreetly trying to leave the ladies bathroom without being seen. Result:  FAILURE.  My wife quickly exited first, and said it was all clear. Just as soon as I started to exit the bathroom, a girl I vaguely know - and sits on my floor upstairs - comes walking around the corner. She gives us an odd embarrassed look, and continues on her way. My wife and I look at each other and laugh, knowing that this girl probably thought we were banging in the basement bathroom at work. While this is funny - it is the last thing I need people talking about at my work.

In an attempt to squelch this story from the get-go, I found the girl as soon as I could and explained to her what happened. She acted very weird and embarrassed about the whole thing at first, but eventually she did laugh (even somewhat relieved) and thought the whole thing was rather funny.

After all of that - as you can imagine, I told my wife that was the "last time" she ever dyed my hair.
It goes without saying though - it wasn't the last time.  What can I say...I'm a pushover.

At least I never looked like a giraffe again though.
And in hindsight - We totally should have had sex in that bathroom.


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