Why I Don't Wear Dress Clothes

Back in 1988 or thereabouts, I worked for Spectra Physics as a software engineer. I'd been there about two years and decided to leave to pursue other alternatives. I picked a small startup in Palo Alto and went on my way.

Unfortunately, the opportunity in Palo Alto didn't work out for me. I was there about five months and didn't enjoy it much. (It's even fallen off my resume -- how much can you do in five months?) I talked with my former boss at Spectra Physics and asked him some questions about the place I was at to find out if it was normal or not. He thought it wasn't, and indicated he could get my my old job back if I wanted it -- with a raise that I'd missed in the time I was gone. I took him up on his offer.

On my first day back at the office, I had to go through the usual issues that all new employees go through: filling out forms, meeting people, etc. In my case, since I knew almost everyone involved, I figured this would be no problem.

I arrived for my day in my normal work clothes -- all set to get going. The HR person was a friend of mine and we went through all the paperwork. At the end, though, she had a surprise:

"While you were gone, we hired a new director of R&D. He's put a dress code in place," she said.

I was stunned. How could anyone do this in an engineering department? She pulled out a battered file folder full of copies of a dress code document and handed me one. I read it briefly.

Engineers were to wear a coat and tie. Management too. Techs -- the ones assembling and testing circuit boards -- were also in a coat and tie. This division of Spectra Physics made chemistry analysis instruments. We had wet labs there, and some chemicals you didn't want to breath. The guys working in those labs didn't have to wear a coat, but the tie was still required.

I couldn't believe this was happening, but she assured me it was true and sent me back to see my coworkers. I spent the entire day in the engineering area, meeting with people to catch up on what had happened while I was gone and greeting people I hadn't seen for a while. Everyone I met was dressed up. Engineers hired after I left were dressed up -- I didn't even know these people. I spent the entire day talking with people dressed for success. It made me more than slightly ill.

I had two managers -- sort of. One (Scott) was my "manager to be." I was supposed to finish a project for the other manager (Charley) and then I'd report to Scott for another project. When confronted, Scott assured me that he hadn't told me about the dress code because he thought Charley would do it. Charley, passed the buck back to Scott, since -- after all -- I wasn't going to be working for him for all that long.

And the parade continued. The wet lab tech wandered by looking very well dressed. He was wearing a coat he didn't have to wear.

That evening, I decided I was stuck -- I needed new clothes. I clearly wasn't going be able to work here owning only a closet full of jeans and t-shirts. I went shopping.

At the store I picked out several pairs of pants and a bunch of shirts. But, since I'd stayed moderately late at work, I ran out of time, and couldn't buy any shoes or jackets. I approached the checkout counter with my mound of new clothing and waited in line with another gentleman -- a total stranger.

He eyed my stack of garments and we conversed. I described my situation, and just how miffed I was about it. He commiserated. It seems that he worked for Hewlett-Packard and his organization had done something similar a couple of years earlier. We agreed it was dumb, but that there wasn't much we could do about it.

I bought my stack of clothes, went home, and washed them all. After all, I needed them on Tuesday morning. While doing this, I worked myself up into a good fit of anger, and I was ready to let my current boss have it for not telling me this was coming. I was really hacked off.

Tuesday morning arrives. I dress the part. I dug out some old dress shoes and cleaned the dust off them. I put on slacks, a dress shirt, and a tie. I didn't own a jacket that fit, but I was upset enough that I didn't care. As a gesture of defiance I used a Pink Floyd pin as a tie tack. (Oooo... brave, eh?)

On arriving at the office, I stomped back into the engineering area. I was really pissed by now, and I wasn't afraid to let people know it.

"Charley! I wanna talk to you!" I yelled.

I got to my office and slammed the books I'd taken home down on the desk. I sat down, and started doing something on the computer, but I don't remember what it was. What I do remember was getting that creepy feeling I was being watched.

I turned around to find 15 or so or my coworkers staring at me. As soon as I turned, they started laughing. I was so wigged out that it took me a minute to realize what they were wearing. Jeans with huge holes in the knees. Ratty project t-shirts that hadn't been anywhere other than a closet or a garden in the last three years. Tennis shoes though which could be seen socks -- or feet.

I'd been had. The entire thing was a practical joke, setup by one of the marketeers (Hello Dave J... I remember you!). I spent an entire day wandering around dressed up, while people gave me all kinds of grief.

No one could believe the joke had lasted that long or gone that well. No one knew how I hadn't gotten wind of the gag and avoided shopping. No one could understand how I'd managed to encounter the guy from HP while buying clothes. No one knew how I hadn't found out -- apparently people were snickering around me all day, and I never saw it.

I kept the clothes I bought; I figured they'd come in handy some day.

I decided that I needed a reminder that I could keep with me at all times -- to help me remember the event. I went shopping again, and found the most ugly, lime green, paisley tie I could find. I stuck it into a deep picture frame, and next to it, in red, are the following words:

I hung this on the wall in my cube. Two days later, the head of R & D stopped by and taped a sign to it. The sign reads:

The tie in the frame still travels with me from company to company. When the original hand lettered quote got to be in bad enough shape, I printed it out again and taped a new copy where the old one had previously lived.

Having lived through that, I decided that I didn't want to wear dress clothes to work again... ever. I could still choose to do so -- and I did one year on Halloween -- but I now know that I should avoid any company that feels that appearance is more important than substance.

Clothes do not make the man.