Fran the Phrenologist

A car that looks like Fran's with a girl that looks kind of like Fran.

The other day I was at the barber when I saw Fran my hair dresser hop out of a sweet car and come in to give me the follicle tuneup. I asked her what her husband did for work. 

She said "Oh my sweetie goes around to fast food restaurants and analyzed french fries to make sure they meet legal standards for salt content." 


I asked if that paid well. "No he does it all volunteer; he is one of those patriots if you know what I mean." I didn't but before I could say as much she said, "why do you ask honey?"

"Well I saw you drive up in that sweet car and assumed that your husband must be rich."

"Typical man, I am disappointed in you Benji; I thought you were more sensitive than that." then whether on accident or to teach me a lesson she snipped my ear. "oops, sorry 'bout that; let me get you a bandaid."

In pain and a little confused I said, "Well you work as a hair dresser and your husband is a patriotic volunteer so where does the money for such an awesome car come from?"

"Well honey I am going to let you in on a secret, but you can't tell a soul."

"Okay I promise."

"Cross your heart?"

"Well I'll have to ask my wife about that; you do know I'm married right Fran?"

"You silly; 'cross your heart' adds legitimacy and power to your promise it basically means I can tear out your heart if you break your promise."

"How about I cross my appendix." I didn't let on that I had just had my appendix removed for apple overconsumption.

"Well I guess that will do. Here is the secret: I am a phrenologist."

I had absolutely no idea what a phrenologist was but in order to avoid looking stupid I said, "oh you mean like with horses." The other ear got snipped. "Ow Fran, you're worse than my mom."

"Oh don't be such a baby sweetie; and don't pretend you know something when you don't; it's not attractive in a man with so little hair."

Fran began to describe phrenology which is basically the science of studying the shape of someone's skull to tell certain characteristics about the person. A bulge here means you are a good communicator, a dent there means you cant spell 'their' (just a side note: I misspell 'their' all the time I spell it 'thier' ('i' before 'e' except after 'c'. Ya, totally bogus rule).

This is a Phrenology Chart

"So... How do you make money off this phrenology stuff?"

"Well I get all sorts of people coming in here every day, you never know when one of thems goin to be a gold mine."

Still confused (apparently I have a dent in the cranial area of abstract comprehension of foreign ideas), "So you charge people different based on how much money you think they have?" Sensing another ear snip I pretended to sneeze.

"Not exactly. I have a business set up with several high power orginizations; they tell me what kind of person they are looking for to fill a specific position and then I phrenologize my customers for suitable cannidates."

"That is incredible!" I said. "How much do you get paid for that sort of thing?"

"Well it depends on the company I am dealing with, but most of them keep me on a retainer and then pay me when I find a winning canidate. I usually make between two and three million a year." She said this so frankly, without inflection, that I thought she was joking.

"Ha ha ha, you really had me goin for a second Fran."

"No I'm serious. The car was actualy a bonus for one of my more lucrative finds"

It was at this point that I started to realize that I had been going to Fran ever since my mom nearly took off my ear in a scissor/texting accident (Driving is not the only activity that is dangerous while texting). 

"So Fran, have you ever phrenologized me?"

"Sure honey, you're not a candidate for anything rich or important, but I did set you up with your wife."

I was a little deflated at hearing I wasn't the smartest person in the world (something I had assumed from early childhood). But more than that I was curious about how phrenology, Fran, and the wife fit together.

"What do you mean you set me up with my wife?"

"Your wife came in asking me to find her a husband. Its a side favor I do for friends."

"Really?" I was enjoying the thought that I was the best man in the world to get my wife. "It must have taken quite a while to find someone as unique as me, eh Fran."

"Not really; her specifications were fairly simple: someone who was smart but no too quick; a hard working man who could take direction from a woman; a man who was subservient and would easily bend to her superior will. The rest was just fluff."

You heard it right, all my finer qualities are just fluff. I am basically cheap labor.


I was too depressed to ask anymore questions at that point, which is significant for me,  so I took my leave. On my way out Fran said, "Don't take it so hard sweetie; if I read your skull right you should be able to write a killer blog post about this experience."
I must admit that did give me a little comfort. "Thanks for the skull scrub Fran see you next time."
"You betcha honey" she said with a wink as she sat her next customer (someone prone to be special and important no doubt; a bonus for Fran and her undercover phrenology business.)

So what should you take from this: Next time you think about getting your hair washed, just remember you might be manipulated by a millionaire phrenologist. And if you are a man and visited a hair stylist any time before you got married you might just be subservient cheap labor. (on second thought, that is pretty much the definition of a married man).