CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Word Count: 584
Talk about something you inherited. (It could be an object, a physical attribute, a belief, etc.)
I got my early male pattern baldness from my father. By the time I was born, he looked exactly as I do now, and, I guess, as time moves on, I’ll just lose more and more of my hair. I don’t really know what’s going to happen to me, because my father never lived to let me see it happen to him. Genetic quirks, as Catherine calls them, are meant to be what makes us special, what makes us unique, and what sets us apart from every other single individual on the planet. I started going bald at an early age, and people just immediately assumed that I was older than I really was. Of course, there is a certain advantage to that, but it also made me angry. Angry, because they shouldn’t have taken one look at me and put me into a particular fucking category. I’m perfectly aware that it’s not a disability, that it’s really, not that bad, and honestly, I couldn’t care less, but the way people looked at me back then, the way they still do now, is a sign of their absolute stupidity.
It was my hard work ethic and my high intelligence that got me where I am today, but at times, there has been clear evidence that how much hair is on my head, or lack thereof, has made people take me in a different way, look at me in a different light. If people were ever to judge me on my hair, then it is probable that they would respect me more than, let’s say, Nick Stokes and his boyishly idiotic haircut. It is simple nature in the human world. Even if we may not do it willingly, or consciously, we are bound to judge people by their looks in at least one meeting with them. At a young age, my baldness made me look older than I was, and if I looked older, it only came to reason, in the secret back room of some people’s consciousness, that I had more experience. Who teachers young animals the most about how to survive? The older animals, and as such, their parents. Just slightly, the same thing goes on for humans, that I have learned.
People take me seriously because they know that I will work hard, and get the job done quickly and efficiently, but properly at the same time. If, in some small part, they must judge me by my appearance, then I am not going to stop them, simply because, I can not stop what is human nature. Going above hair, it does matter how people look on a whole. The man dressed in scrappy clothing with a raggedy haircut, is often not the man who gets robbed. He may be rich, but the man dressed in a business suit, with a tie and a leather briefcase, talking on a mobile phone, who may not be, is going to get mugged before he does. I do things right, I do them quick, I pay attention to detail, and I get them done. Those things, are what matter the most to other people, when it comes to a judge of character, worth, or person, not hair. Sure, it may play a small part, but it does not matter the most. In that, I am happy, because it doesn’t matter how much hair I do or do not have, as long as I do a good job. And I always, always, do a good job.