re was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forcedIt seemed like any other day when I walked into the barbershop. The old-fashioned, wood-paneled room looked like a scene only Norman Rockwell could create.

I was greeted with the customary, “Hey, guy” from the balding, overweight barber. Thrilled that I wouldn’t have to wait for my haircut, I took a seat in the oversized barber chair. He spun me around so that I was facing away from the mirror, but I didn’t mind. My eyes were already fixed on the television perched high in the corner of the shop.

“So what’ll it be, guy?” the bald barber asked. His hand lingered over the clippers, like a gunslinger over his holstered pistol.

“The usual,” I said confidently. “Number one tapered up on the sides, trimmed up and thinned up on top.”

Large clumps of hair began falling on my shoulders. I struggled to hear the television over the humming in my ears. After about ten minutes, the bald barber spun me around so that I was facing the mirror. Proudly, the barber asked, “So how does it look?”

My eyes grew wide with horror; my lips had no words to answer his question. There was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forced

o wait for my haircut, I took a seat in the oversized barber chair. He spun me around so that I was facing away from the mirror, but I didn’t mind. My eyes were already fixed on the television perched high in the corner of the shop.

“So what’ll it be, guy?” the bald barber asked. His hand lingered over the clippers, like a gunslinger over his holstered pistol.

“The usual,” I said confidently. “Number one tapered up on the sides, trimmed up and thinned up on top.”

Large clumps of hair began falling on my shoulders. I struggled to hear the television over the humming in my ears. After about ten minutes, the bald barber spun me around so that I was facing the mirror. Proudly, the barber asked, “So how does it look?”

My eyes grew wide with horror; my lips had no words to answer his question. There was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forced

ber asked. His hand lingered over the clippers, like a gunslinger over his holstered pistol.

“The usual,” I said confidently. “Number one tapered up on the sides, trimmed up and thinned up on top.”

Large clumps of hair began falling on my shoulders. I struggled to hear the television over the humming in my ears. After about ten minutes, the bald barber spun me around so that I was facing the mirror. Proudly, the barber asked, “So how does it look?”

My eyes grew wide with horror; my lips had no words to answer his question. There was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forced

o hear the television over the humming in my ears. After about ten minutes, the bald barber spun me around so that I was facing the mirror. Proudly, the barber asked, “So how does it look?”

My eyes grew wide with horror; my lips had no words to answer his question. There was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forced

re was an awkward silence as I screamed inside my head, “What have you done?” I considered telling him how awful it was, but what would that do? It’s not like he could have glued it back on. There was absolutely nothing I could do. Remembering the barber’s question, I forced out the words, “Not bad.”

I had blindly trusted the bald barber. I let him have complete control of my hair without even watching. He didn’t know exactly what I wanted, and I was too engulfed in the television to really tell him. I should have participated, asking to watch him work or giving my input along the way. If I was going to trust someone else with my haircut, it should have at least been someone with great hair.

Unfortunately, a bad haircut isn’t the only consequence of taking advice from the wrong person. In business, bad advice may not be as obvious, but it is exponentially more devastating. For that reason, you should be very careful about choosing the people who will influence you.

Many business people with tremendous potential will never achieve success, simply because they give into the influences of the wrong people. They choose to commiserate with others at the water cooler and spend their meetings talking about why something cannot happen instead of how it can. Instead of shaping their future with their own hands, they simply accept what others give