The power of the beard

As you grow up as a child, you learn of various traits that a strong person must have: wisdom, physical power, being capable, honesty, drive, a spirit to fight for you rights and a sense of adventure. So, when I was about 8, I took a good long look at the role models we were presented with such as the heroes on TV or the adventurers in the childrens books. From Santa Claus with his warm heart and the ability to visit billions of people in one night, Captain Blackbeard sailing the seven seas and living the adventures I only could dream of and of course dad who would make sure that no harm would come to our family. All heros and all men with beards. So it was sure that at playtime, the boys and I would rush to the paint box and dot our face to make us look like the unshaven but daring cowboys, straddling wild mustangs and being in a blood brotherhood with the Indians. Though me, being a bit squeamish about seeing blood, did prefer ketchup. If I had a real beard, I of course would have no sissy issues with that red bodily liquid. Talking about the Westerns, look at Bud Spencer in “Trinity is still my name”: he is a bundle of fluffiness who at the same time is one tough and funny bloke who can surely throw some fists. Oh, how I couldn’t wait to grow up!

When I was 14, my history teacher spoke of Leonardo. No, not the Ninja Turtle version but the Italian man who lived in the 15th century. An extremely wise man who –as it happens to be- had a long beard. At the same time, there was a man called Pavlov in biology class. And it hit me: they were all wise men who have beards. Driven by curiosity whether there was a correlation between wisdom and the length of the beard, I rampaged through history books looking at famous historical personalities. And who would have guessed: beards wherever you looked! Lincoln, Marx, Galileo and I remembered that even when I was small, the animated heroes of wisdom such as Merlin or Master Splinter have beards. So, not being the star of the class but more the effort student, my hope sprung high when puberty hit and the first hair popped on my legs and armpits. The biological time neared for a beard and I was sure that with that evolution, so would my grades jump from mediocre to genius. Days passed, months crawled by and I learned that I belonged to the few who would not be blessed with a dose of fluffy wisdom.

College is not only about studying but also about relationship. Which, well, didn’t quite turn out to be my forte. As most people, I blamed it on my looks and a slight awkwardness so I figured that it was time to reinvent myself. Away from the strange nerdy being and off to something seductively dangerous. After all, people do love to play with fire. In some way, this is what I saw in the cool riders on their Harleys, a touch of mischief combined with an urge for freedom. Look at the Hell’s Angels: a group of banded brother, living life on the road and what do they often have? Facial hair and of course a bike. I scrambled all my money together, got myself a big sucker of a two wheeled vehicle and, well, also quite a few bruises. It helped me neither with my relationships nor with my medical expenses. And not to mention that leather jackets did not flatter my body at all. You just can’t be a real biker with a darned lack of facial hair!

I am now in my early 30’s, working in a renowned automobile company and ready to take over the world by storm. I worked my butt off to get here and my moment of glory has come with a big presentation on the needed restructuring of the firm in front of the entire executive committee. I was ready. Had my facts together, knew all the key points and possible arguments from the participants, nothing could go wrong. If it wasn’t for this one teenie weenie little thing: me being freakishly nervous. Torn between a feeling of world domination and sticking my head in the next barrel of beer singing “Everything’s gonna be alright” by Bob Marley over and over. And then, in a moment of liquid gold epiphany, it hit me. I remembered that one of my most disappointing moments as a child was when one Christmas I found Santa’s beard in my uncle’s closet. Here was one of my greatest childhood heroes, the man who could fly all over the world with reindeers in no time, and he was nothing more than a fake. Well, at least his beard was. But he could still manage to pull off all the things he did with an imitation of a beard. I guess that this slogan does count: Fake it till you make it! All I needed was a beard toupee or an implant. Considering that the time was of the essence since the presentation was the next day and that my bank account was not really an all-you-can-spend buffet, option 1 seemed the most feasible. So, off I run to the next best wig shop and choose the most beautiful hairy piece of confidence and strength that I could find. I was so excited that I practiced my presentation for hours in front of the mirror and in complete joy of how confident that glued beard made me feel. This is it, nothing could ruin my glory tomorrow. After a good night’s sleep, I got up early the next morning and put on my most professional attire and best shoes. Ready, steady, bedazzle! Here we are now, in the present, me standing in a conference room in front of the executive committee and the management board. I am boosted, psyched and I greet them with an energized “Good morning everyone, welcome to today’s presentation”. I can feel my beard oozing confidence at them because they don’t reply. Silence has fallen over the room. All they do is sit there and stare at me. In awe, I assume. With my posture straight and proud, I stand there and wait for their reply. And wait… and wait… Until, it has become slightly awkward. Could they really be that intimidated by a beard? Finally, Mr. Winter, the CEO and also a proud bearer of a facial competence, breaks the silence and shifts around uncomfortably in his chair. He slowly lifts his hand. Grateful, I nod at him, urging him to speak. “Good morning, Anna. Before we start, I have a question…”.