We were sitting in the biggest conference room in the building, about to start a meeting with the company's chairman and CEO on the division's key performance indicators, when a colleague sitting next to me at the table suddenly started studying my profile closely.
"Oh my goodness, Iggy - you're going grey!" he exclaimed.
Caught off-guard, with barely seconds left to react before the meeting started, I turned to my neighbour on the other side.
"H., am I turning grey?"
H. turned to study my profile and paused for a moment before giving her verdict.
"You're not only turning grey, you are also turning white!"
She must have seen the look of utter shock and dismay on my face because she hastily added: "No, I was just joking!"
But it was too late. The damage had been done and the meeting had started.
So while my colleagues mulled the merits of changing productivity metrics, I silently wrapped my head around metrics of a very different sort.
Had the time come for me to mask the grey by going completely bald? And what repercussions would this have - Looking older? A new wardrobe?
Now you know what people really think about at important meetings as they listen to those Powerpoint presentations.
For me, it would only be the second time in my adult life that I have changed my hairstyle.
The current style that you see today dates back to the turn of the millennium, when I was in my late twenties.
I had just quit my civil service job and did not see the need to maintain the conservative sloped sides and respectably gelled-back floppiness that would not shock the director-generals and permanent secretaries in government.
After my second trip to Tokyo, I decided to adopt the look favoured by some groups of Japanese men I saw on the streets. Short and stocky, the look of these "G-men" - as they were called - was beefy bodies, goatees and very close-cropped hair that was just slightly longer on the top.
I was so obsessed I sought out a hairstylist in Singapore who people told me was an absolute prophet in the Hallowed Temple of "G-men" Hair. He even had a prophet's name - Isaiah - and used only special razors and scissors bought from Tokyo. I have never gone anywhere else or altered my hairstyle since.
Like clockwork, my hair grows out in three weeks and starts to look untidy, so I go back to Isaiah to fix it.
But no one has ever noticed the grey or commented on it till now. It's the end of an era, I sigh to myself, nervously contemplating the future.
Why are men, in particular, so touchy about their hair?
Women seem to be able to change their hairstyles at the drop of a hat - or should I say, hairband. One minute, it's all long and wavy, then three months later, it's sleek and straight after being rebonded. And three months after that, it's been cut into a Cameron Diaz bob.