Marketing Lessons from My Daughter’s Apprenticeship in Styling My Hair

Seven take-outs for #marketing folks when briefing the #advertising #agency arising from my tryst with my teenaged daughter's #apprenticeship in styling my hair due to my #covid-19 #pandemic salon phobia.

Marketing Lessons from My Daughter’s Apprenticeship in Styling My Hair

“OK, you can open your eyes now, Dad”, my daughter intoned.

My salon phobia during the Covid-19 pandemic made me fall prey to my daughter’s suggestion that she would like to have a go at my unruly, Einstein-like mop of hair, and give it some shape. That’s what I remember her saying to me.

The time and date were set. I sat on a four-legged stool with a plastic sheet under to collect the soot-like snowflakes as they dropped to the floor. I mused that we rarely remember to tip the person in the salon who gathers the mass of hair when we are done with the haircut.  

I closed my eyes as my daughter chipped away. I imagined Michelangelo chipping away at the marble until the only thing left was the magnificent sculpture of David. 

Then she stopped. She brushed my hair from side to side. I guess she was giving it some shape. She ran to get the vanity case mirror from the adjoining room. I heard her footsteps retreating and then could barely hear her tip-toeing back to me. Only her giggly and half-frightened words, “OK, you can open your eyes now, Dad”.

I did. I gasped. Not noticeably, I hope.

For the first time ever, my family saw my full forehead. If fact, my wife remarked. “I did know you had such a large forehead.  You know it is a mark of high intelligence.” 

My daughter had cut my hair to the hairline all round. My other kids passed by without commenting. They are too well-bred to show their feelings, untended.   

My novice hair-dresser was insistent on instant feedback on her work of art. I was torn between my Catholic upbringing of always telling the truth and the reality that was reflecting back at me from the mirror. I could not find the words. My best effort to provide feedback led to some cosmic utterances, “umm”, and such.

Here was a child desiring to free her dad from the frizzy mess and pursuing an alternative career proactively, just in case the hoped-for job does not materialize after completing her B.Com.

I did not want her to despair, nor smother her interest in developing alternative skills. Finally, I got the words out. I lied. I said, the styling was not exactly what I had hoped for. But, this ‘army’ look is what I have always desired, but did not have the guts to attempt before this day. So ‘thank you’ for the bold styling.

My daughter is Catholic. She spoke the truth to authority. “Relax Dad. In a day or two or at best a week, your hair will grow back, and you will look great”.

My eldest son came back from work and he saw me, or saw someone sitting on the sofa, and turned on his suave-self to say something in greeting to the strange looking guest. Then reality struck. His words were most devastating. “What happened here, Dad?”. You let Priya cut your hair? What were you thinking?

I wanted to say, what was on my mind, “I was not thinking”.

For an (ad) agency guy solving clients’ most intractable business problems I asked myself why I did not give my daughter a proper brief and set expectations upfront: a single-minded proposition.

“Make sure my remaining hair is at least the width of your finger over which the scissor may do its job.”

Over the dinner table the commiserations and discussions continued and one of my sons asked the apprentice stylist why did she not leave some hair over the forehead instead of cutting to the hairline. Seems such an obvious thing to do, he said.

And, reality hit again. She said, “I have never seen an adult male hair being cut, so how was I to know?” True! True!

When the dust settled on this episode I was stirred by a thought. Do folks in marketing make the same kind of mistakes in engaging and briefing its advertising agency?

1.   From approaching the best in the business, do we cut corners to settle for ‘apprentices’ and still hope to get clutter-bursting, cash-register ringing, outcomes?

2.   Do we take the pains to give a proper brief or hope the service provider will figure things out for themselves, after all, they are the communication experts?

3.   Do we engage with the service provider in the creation process to provide guidance to get the end product right (agile development) or do we wait blissfully for the end product to be presented only to reject it and clarify the brief, post facto?

4.   Do we leap to judgement on first look at the creative work or do we let it sink in to appreciate its boldness and nuances?

5.   Do we find the words when things go wrong to continue to encourage when the original sin is with the marketer for not providing a specific and inspirational brief to achieve the desired outcome, the very first time, and not at the unpaid cost of several iterations?   

6.   Do we partner with our agency seeking mutual growth or treat them as vendors to execute our thinking and blame them when the campaign bombs?

7.   Do we take pride that because of our marketing expertise the communication agency too has grown in lockstep to prominence working on the brand?

My daughter was right. It took just a good night’s rest and a refreshing, warm water bath in the morning, for me to appreciate my daughter’s enthusiastic effort. While she has the talent for hair dressing, I would still like her to finish her B.Com. and expand her scope to lot more challenging assignments.  

Through all of the emotions coursing through my arteries, my daughter unaffected by all that she had wrought, asked me if I would allow her to cut my hair again. All I could muster to say to continue to encourage her in her pursuits was, “Let’s talk about it in three months’ time.”