Wednesday was wig day. It was also my last day at Jaywing.
Wig Day isn't official. It isn't observed worldwide. You didn't miss Wig Day.
What you are missing however, is some backstory. I've never been blessed with self esteem and at the age of twenty four I started going bald. What little self esteem I'd been able to cling on to into adulthood was obliterated. There are many things worse than going bald in this world, but this was the end of mine. Think about it. Voldemort, Cypher, Freddy Krueger, Ming the Merciless, Pinhead, Bane, Dr. Evil, Lex Luthor. All villains, all bald.
(I'm ignoring Die Hard because it doesn't fit my point).
Back then, I don't know if I could have handled a bald joke. But now, being bald is part of my persona, I can't remember the last day we didn't joke about it. Funny thing, making peace with one of your problems. At Jaywing, I often played the angry bald man, put upon and downtrodden by the dominant "Hairs". Those bastards.
Wig Day, then. Richard, my handsome friend colleague bought wigs so I could spend my last day "as one of them". For just one day, I could feel what it's like to be him with his stupid full head of hair. How we laughed at the other balds in the office. Bloody peasants.
This post is going to get long so let's move on. Let's make another step towards making a point. One of these days, I'll start writing with one in mind. Until then, I'll carry on stumbling around, hoping for the best. Much like I did last Friday night as I walked down West Street complaining to myself about the state of the world, driven by the drunken riff raff loitering outside bars shouting things like "WHEYYYY," and "GET YER TITS OUT." It was a bit like the ending of I Am Legend when it suddenly dawned on me that it was I who was the monster now.
Lunchtime came around and we donned our wigs and ate waffles. A couple of pretty young woman laughed at my thick head of hair, clearly intimidated by my new-found confidence and masculinity. A man reborn, they couldn't hold themselves together in the face of such impressiveness.
Powered by sugar, I danced my way around the ping pong table later that afternoon, unleashing Panther* on my poor, unsuspecting victims. In a match with - much like my blog posts - no points, I won.
My bosses boss, who is also my boss, came by and dropped off a book as a parting gift. The book is called "Will It Make The Boat Go Faster" and considering the contents, will surely inspire me into becoming a better person. Surely.
Dreading the final part of the day, it soon arrived, the moment where I would blurt out some words in the small hope that they would come together to form sentences thus portraying how grateful I am to the people I've worked with for the last four years. My boss said some words that made me feel good about myself, then I returned the favour, we shared a hug and everyone cried** at such tenderness.
They even gave me some gifts, and to be perfectly frank, nailed it.
First up was a big box o'rum. Well, the rum was in a bottle inside the box, I'm not an an alcoholic. Not yet. It's the kind of rum that, as a Yorkshireman, I can't quite bring myself to buy. Apparently everyone at Jaywing gets paid too much because that wasn't all. Much like at Christmas, when my family fail to understand anything that I like, there was some money in an envelope (euros, to their credit, as they know I'm off to France).
My favourite gift however is a grey hoodie. What? I'm a developer. If a hoodie isn't the universal developer uniform, then I'm a good person. This isn't just any hoodie. Actually, this one is. It has a printed "Jaywing Alumni" logo on it. Attached with a safety pin. Classy. You might be wondering why this sheer lack of effort is worth the fuss. That's because, in the words of my boss, "the dev team messed up," and this is just a placeholder until the real thing arrives. I, however, refused to make a fuss of this lack of forward thinking because truthfully, when the real thing arrives, it'll be a treasured reminder of my time at Jaywing.
Thank you to everyone that made me feel so valued.
So long, partners.
* Panther is my ping pong nickname - because I'm graceful, agile, and above all, powerful. It's also the name of my signature move, an nonreturnable Earth-shattering backhand.
** Just one person, and I think she was just jealous of the attention the handsome man with the hair was getting.