Playing Dressup

My employer recently instilled a dress code. Effective today, no more t-shirts, no jeans, no sweatshirts, no hats, and about a dozen other “nos”.

Now, this may not seem like a big deal (and really – it shouldn’t be), but this company was founded as a “blue jeans, down to earth” place 21 years ago. So for 21 years people have become mighty accustomed to dressing like bums.

Speaking of which, rumor has it that this dress code was put into place by our new CEO, who visited a few weeks back. He allegedly told his V.P.s that we “looked like a bunch of vagabonds.” Nice, no? Hence, the dress code.

I do see his point, though. People were really starting to push the whole “casual workplace” theory to the edge this past summer. It was increasingly common to walk down the hall and see Budweiser t-shirts, flip-flops, bedroom slippers, midriff-bearing tanks (fortunately only on the girls), and shorty shorts (which unfortunately were on some of the guys, too.) So maybe it was time that we clean up our act.

So here I am today, wearing my nicely ironed Mickey Mouse oxford (we can’t be serious all the time, can we?) and a pair of black dress pants, which I just soiled by crawling around on the dirty floor hooking up computer cables. I don’t work any harder or faster or more efficiently when I’m wearing the Corporate Monkey Suit, but if that’s what it takes to make people happy, then so be it.

Although I still don’t really get what the point is – dressing up for customers who aren’t allowed in the building, vendors we never see, and executives who are 1,800 miles away? Who exactly are we trying to impress?

I used to have a suit-and-tie job. I didn’t mind dressing up, although usually by noon my tie was off and stuffed in my desk drawer. And up until coming here I never really had a job that was 24/7 casual. So I really have no room to complain, now do I? (The Lovely Mrs. G. says "No, you don't - now quit whining, you big baby, and iron your shirts like a good boy".)

Oh, well. At least they don’t make us wear a uniform. Or 15 pieces of flair. Or a smock that says ‘HOW CAN I HELP YOU?’ on the back.

See? It could be worse.