My Toupee
A short-short story
I didn’t want to go. After all, parties had never worked for me. In fact, nothing had ever worked for me — I was 21 and still a virgin. But everyone still told me — my friends, my parents, my grandmother for God’s sake — that I had to keep getting out there.
So I took a deep breath and went in. Everyone was smiling, laughing, seeming so natural. I stood in the corner for a while and then forced myself to amble — not too eager —toward a group that didn’t seem too intimidating — not the Pretty People, not the gigglers, just three people chatting. I stood a few feet from them and tried to establish eye contact. I tried one girl but she didn’t notice me or maybe she rejected me. I tried looking at another one, a guy this time to avoid it looking like I was hitting on a girl, and he held my eyes for a moment. I figured that was all I could expect, so I took a step toward the group. That girl was talking about her plans for grad school. The guy chimed in, “I’m in enough student debt already.” I nodded. The other girl said, “And these days, it’s degree proliferation. Even a master’s degree makes employers yawn.” We smiled but knew that wasn’t funny.
I asked the grad-school-bound girl, “So what are you going to study?” She said, “Computer science, artificial intelligence, you know, where the jobs are.”
I nodded but felt like such a loser. I had taken Intro to Computer Science and didn’t understand most of it. I had to cheat my way to a C. So I decided that I better major in something like sociology or media studies. I think they saw my face drop, so I excused myself and got a drink. The rest of the evening, like all parties, didn’t go any better for me, so I left early.
I was stressed out and a shower is one of the few places I feel relaxed, so even though I didn’t need a shower, I took one. When I got out, I looked in the mirror and asked myself, “What is wrong with me?” Am I trying too hard? Not hard enough? Should I memorize jokes to tell at the next party? Then I did something I had been scared to do — look at myself in the mirror, hard. My hair being wet made clear that my hairline had already started to recede. I took a handheld mirror so I could see the back — a bald spot was already forming.
Was that the problem? Should I get a toupee? I thought, that’s stupid. Only idiotic characters on TV wear a toupee. But the idea stayed with me because that was a more doable solution than trying to change my personality or my major to something more impressive than sociology.
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So I decided to get a consultation. It wouldn’t cost anything to get information — You know, knowledge is power and all that. But where? I searched Yelp — It was 2005 and it had just started, and I saw that The Full Head already had a dozen reviews, which averaged 4.5 stars. When I got there, the waiting room’s walls were covered with before-and-after pictures. Wow! And the cute receptionist asked if I’d like something to drink while I was waiting. I knew that was just business but I was starved for female attention, so it felt good.
When I got into the consultation room, a handsome guy smiled and said, “Yup, I’m wearing one. You’re Joe, right?” I nodded and he continued. “Joe, it’s great that you’ve come while you still have most of your hair — People will just say you look great, well-rested, or something.” He then asked, “What’s the main reason you’ve come in — career, self-esteem, romance?” I smiled at the latter. He said, “Joe, that’s the most common reason — and it works.” I knew I was dealing with a master salesman but I was open to being sold.
He pulled out a photo album and said, “Of course, we have lots of styles but there are three I think would look wonderful on you. (I had heard that in funeral homes, salespeople always show three caskets — enough to give choice, not so many that you’re overwhelmed.) He asked, “Do any of these call out to you?” I pointed to one and before I knew it, I had bought a $3,000 “hairpiece.” I’m not surprised they avoid the word, “toupee.”
Whatever you call it, I can’t say that it turned me into a chick magnet but within a month, I was no longer a virgin. And despite my sociology major, I somehow felt more confident in job interviews, and I did get hired as a community relations specialist for a bank.
My job was mainly to address complaints and to hold events, like free workshops on financial literacy and on home ownership. Usually, we held them at the bank but for Father’s Day, we did one as a picnic in a nearby park.
It was cool that morning, so I wore a light sweater but by noon, I needed to pull it off. I tried to be careful but lifting it was enough to push the sides of my hairpiece up so it looked like it had wings! Someone pointed to me, which made another person take out her camera. She must have sent it to the newspaper —Everyone knows that the media likes to do hit pieces on banks.
Two days later, as I’m drinking my morning coffee at home, I opened the newspaper to see that jpg of me. The headline: “A Phony Banker.” I pulled off my hairpiece and stared at my now quite-bald self in the mirror. Do I go au naturel? I am terrified to do that but I am terrified to wear it. What would you do?
I read this aloud on YouTube.
Dr. Marty Nemko is a career and personal coach. He’s also the author of 18 books, including, Soloists: Short-short stories of introverts and outsiders facing a dilemma. You can reach Marty at mnemko@comcast.net.
