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As I was shaving this morning I cut myself and was suddenly hit with a horrible flashback. That lasted about 3 minutes. Then I was reminded of a shaving related incident from my past… The incident occured back in 1996, when I was well into my career at a grocery store. The store had a dress code that required collared shirts, ties, and either khaki or dress pants. In addition to this they also had rules about grooming that included (for men) ‘no peircings, no beards, and no long hair’. Thankfully they were normally pretty lax on some of the items, especially since the rules had remain unchanged since the 1970′s. For example, I had stopped wearing khaki’s after I ripped several pair working outside or in the warehouse, and some proponents for facial hair were allowed to wear beard-nets rather than shaving. If you’ve never seen a beardnet I suggest you click here as it is one of the funnier items ever to grow out of the strange necessities of the combination of fashion and food service. But I digress. One day I happened to be pressed for time, and didn’t bother to check myself in the mirror prior to rushing out to work. This was a bad day, for not only was I late, but I was stopped by a supervisor that (of course) saw my tardiness as an excuse to minutely examine my work attire for the day. I was a probably quite a sight wearing blue jeans, a threadbare polo shirt, and an ugly blue hand-me-down tie that didn’t match any of my shirts. He didn’t bother taking me to task for my clothing though… He grabbed hold of my chin and said “Didn’t you shave today?” I was 17. I hadn’t shaved in almost a week. But of course I lied and said “Oh, Its probably been a day or two.” Then he did something very strange. He smiled. He told me that he was going to do me a favor, so that I didn’t get sent home. He told me that he had started storing some disposable razors and shaving cream under the office counter for times like these, and he was going to give me ten minutes to go clean myself up. Well, I took him up on his offer and went to the restroom to start shaving. Of course, the only restrooms available were public restrooms, but I took it in stride and started to lather my face liberally in front of the mirror. It was then that I realized that I looked like a retarded homeless man that had just come into the store to wash up and BM. It started looking even worse as I realized halfway through that every single swipe I had made with the blade had left a fresh trail of blood. But of course I didn’t think anything about a few blood spots and kept on going. Until the stinging started. Then I looked at the ‘safety’ razor I had been using and noticed that the blade was not in there straight. One side of it stuck out further from the razor than the other, leaving a nice edge for me to score my face on. I spent the remainder of my ten minutes trying to stop the bleeding, and finally came out of the restroom with little blots of paper towel on about twenty different spots on my face. I tracked down the supervisor who had sent me to shave and he started laughing again… then he accused me of not knowing how to shave. At that point I showed him the razor blade and asked him where he got the razors from. It turns out he had been keeping the customer returns for cream and razors at the counter, and this one had probably been returned as defective. I cursed his name during the entire time I was cleaning blood off the sinks in the restroom, and reminded him of the favor-gone-wrong frequently. Over the next couple of years at the store the dress code was modified dramatically. Clean jeans were acceptable for almost all employees, peircings were allowed as long as they were in the ear or nose, and they no longer required a tie. Of course, they still required a clean-shaven face. Around that time I started keeping an electric razor in the car. Care to comment? Have a story of your own? Click Here!