When Opie became the devil: What a beard taught me about being different
When I launched my first full-time business in 1991, I brought a lot to the table: two recently written books, solid experience, a Duke University MBA. There was just one big in-my-face problem: I looked about half my age.
If you’ve ever watched those TV reruns of The Andy Griffith Show from the 1960s, you’re familiar with little Opie Taylor. That’s pretty much how I looked — but at age 28. The Opie Syndrome had me in its clutches.
In all of my first meetings with would-be clients, I kept getting the same question: “When did you say you graduated?” People stopped just short of asking for my birth certificate.
So I decided to do what Opie never could. I grew a moustache and beard, hoping that some well-tended whiskers would make a difference. And they did! People stopped asking my age, and new sales began to sprout.
Then I paid a sales visit to someone I’ll call Mr. Smith. He owned a company that trained salespeople, so I was literally selling to an expert on selling.
Two minutes into our meeting, the no-nonsense Mr. Smith leaned toward me and locked his gaze onto the lower half of my face. His stare lasted so long that I began thinking he had spotted an errant Rice Krispie or a shelter-seeking bug. Then his trance broke. He eased back, took a deep breath, and declared: “Shave that thing off. You’ll sell more.”
He said it with such conviction that I almost asked for a razor right then and there. But as I drove away, my reaction got more complicated. I could see the humor in our encounter, but I also saw the serious side. People talk a lot about valuing differences, yet here I was being told to shave mine off.
To vent, I wrote a guest column about diversity for the Cincinnati Enquirer. It told my story of growing the beard and getting pressured to stick with the 90 percent of clean-shaven American males. The article ended with a question: What’s it like to have a prominent difference that can’t be shaved off?
Many people answered, calling and writing to tell me about the challenges brought on by their own differences. Most of these testimonials had to do with workplaces where sameness and conformity are quietly expected. All of their experiences were far more serious than mine.
I also heard from critics, lots of them, most of whom seemed to long for a world of their own chosen familiarity. One irate reader clipped the article from the newspaper, covered it with vulgarities, circled my photographed face with a thick marker, and sent it to my house. “You look like Satan,” he wrote.
It’s true that a beard wasn’t my best look. But to compare me to the prince of darkness?! That one hurt.
The range and intensity of the response got me thinking more deeply about the struggle for diversity, respect, and acceptance. I kept coming back to this: If someone’s calling me Satan just because of a beard, what are they doing to people whose differences are more significant?
I kept the beard for a couple more years. Then one Saturday morning, I spotted my electric razor at the back of a bathroom drawer. Ten minutes later the beard was gone — but twenty years later, my beard-based experience with diversity is still very much with me.
A few days into life with a clean-shaven face, I met another business contact. It was our first face-to-face meeting after several phone conversations, and he seemed surprised as we shook hands. “You look awfully young,” he said.
“Funny you should mention that,” I said. “Let me tell you about my beard.”
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Hi Tom:
I had almost the exact opposite of your problem several years ago when I was looking for a new job. I had a neatly-trimmed beard for a number of years, which never seemed to affect my hireability (if that’s a word). But then, I realized the beard was 80% grey, much more so than my hair. So I shaved it off. I got the job I wanted, and have kept the beard off. When I did shave it off, thoough, the new look worried my kids. They said I didn’t look quite like “Dad”.
Lately I’ve noticed a lot of TV commercials for products to re-color men’s facial and head hair. Is this because the boomers are greying out at an increasing rate?
I taught a Write 100 class to vocational students at our community college and I utilized a business model with business documents covering each of the student’s vocational fields allowing them to invent their own business and created the needed documentation. The students ranged from third grade to college level English and writing skills, so it was a tough class to teach.
Two of my peers at the college complained to one of our Vice Presidents regarding the content of the class and a meeting was held to sort out their issues. Both peers felt that the class should be taught like a college English course with spelling, punctuation, sentence structure and grammar components. They also felt that since I was an Occupational Support and Business leadership instructor, I didn’t qualify to teach the course.
Image their surprise at the meeting when they found that all of the English components were included in the course- weekly spelling/vocabulary tests, grammar, punctuation and sentence structure exercises, even proofreading components. They were also surprised to learn that my college degree was in English Education. (My work experience and management background had been the components that qualified me to teach business and occupational support.)
My methods and the class went against what they knew, what was within their comfort zone within the process. But they worked well for the students needs.
I have went on to teach more business courses and haven’t taught Write 100 for the last three years. But the textbook I developed for the course, the syllabus and course methodology is still used today by the new instructors that teach the course.
Not everyone with a beard (I have a beard!) is the devil, and sometimes some of the best new and different ideas start with a baby face.
Mike, thanks for sharing that testimonial. You’re a real, er, angel for doing all you do to give young people a solid start. It’s a good thing you and your two colleagues came together so things could be talked about and become more fully understood. It sounds like your peers were looking at your course content with their long-worn and limiting lenses. I guess we all bring our own “lenses” (preconceptions, assumptions, beliefs, prejudices, etc.) to everything we look at to some degree. Maybe at least being aware of that fact is the first step in opening our eyes…and minds. Anyway, it sounds like your use of the new model has been a success that’s still unfolding. Fantastic!
Dear Tom/Satan: I loved this story. It was very thought provoking as well as humorous. We all have to let go of judging that book by it’s cover. As I grow older – everyone is looking extremely young and inexperienced to me – but I have found that whether they are young – or just look young – everyone (including we in the older looking group) brings their own unique talents to the table. Diversity rocks!
Hi, Patty. Your note got me thinking… When my kids were in grade school and I was spending more time with that age group, I was amazed by the unconditional curiosity that seemed to be second nature to them. Their creativity flowed more freely, they weren’t afraid to ask questions, they saw possibility just about everywhere. I love that. I only wish our systems (at home, in school, at work, and everywhere else) didn’t so often require people to toe the line and do things a certain way, because that’s what erodes our natural curiosity and self-starting inclinations. By the way, did you know that Louis Braille was only 15 years old when he developed the reading and writing system that took on his name?!