And we finally moved into the new office – slightly largish classroom/call center (which is just 15 mins of commute time for me) whatever you want to call it based on how mature you are feeling that day. We sit in rows with no sense of a private space whatsoever.
And the interiors are orange (if I’m feeling generous, I call it vermillion) and cream. And it’s not cheerful, trust me. Yes, the interior designer must hate me. Of course, I take it personally.
It has what I most missed from my previous place of work – lots of strange/fresh/new faces. But it lacks what my previous work-place had – a dress code.
Now in the next few paragraphs, I’m going to say something that will shock a few.
I like it when offices have a formal/semi-formal dress code. This casual thing isn’t really working. I hate being subject to other people’s taste (I use the term very lightly) in clothes.
I think it stems from the fact that deep down where it matters, I don’t like people. Humankind has an intrinsic entertainment value and that’s really pretty much it for me. Except for one’s lovers and friends and intelligent, witty, intrinsically nice bitches, of course. And the gays who are usually sexily smart. Otherwise, the rest…
And now they parade (well they always did, but I’m finally seeing too many Ys all at one place) their appaling taste in clothes. I will refrain from commenting on how most men dress. Suffice to say that those with stomachs like it tight and those who wear okay stuff often look like they need a bath. And a shave. And a bath. Shave too. A hair cut also, may be. Did I mention bath?
Now the girls. They are all oh so unbelievably snooty/shy. As I’ve been there only a day I will refrain from judging too hastily. The story goes that young Ys from another office building travel to the new place for lunch (a distance of about 7 km worth of severe traffic) with the excuse of eating at the foodcourt here. Now since the food is just about okay, you can figure the rest.
Most of the ladies I saw here were pretty – skimpily clad. I love cleavage. My own and seeing those of others. But I hate it when it’s overdone. Like when it is cleavage+butt crack+ waist+thunder thigs encased in tight jeans. That is almost tantamount to what self-respecting beauticians call wearing red lipstick with smoky eyes – a sin I’m rather guilty of committing, but you know what I mean. Make-up faux pas is still okay; it’s short-lived. But what you wear usually stays on for a lot longer.
So much skin (and please can someone introduce a few people to body exfoliation?) and attitude at a place of work?
So I was thinking of the good old days at the old place where men with ties complained about ladies’ hemlines that were slightly above the ankle on a formal day! Typically, ooper bharath boys creatively writing to the common mail id in their unique English about quasi-romantic moments that get lost owing to a tie. Or complaining about the great injustice of the world – men wear ties on the days a woman wears a blouse with no sleeve! No sleeve! Hear! Hear!
I am of course sympathetic to the tie cause. I’m claustrophobic which is why I like necklines that are low, by the way. So ties are just awful. And there is the added complication of having to tie it. Men I love have assured me it’s easy and since the Raymond ad fascinated me, I tried to learn it as well, but it’s the same as Math. I understand everyone can do it, but damn if I can. I also understand most men don’t do it. They just stay knotted for life which defeats the purpose of natty dressing, but then again, I won’t judge them too harshly.
Except for a few close friends no one else knew I was so pro-dress code all the time I was there. I worked on many causes during my stint there but cleverly refrained from involving myself too deeply with the cause of the dress code because I’ve always believed that in a country such as India it is needed.
I mean I happily wear bright blue with dark red and paint my nails and lips crimson and walk into work and announce, “Oh, I just felt like cheering myself!” And the poor colleagues have to stare at their monitors all day while wishing desperately for shades!
We need dress-codes because as a nation, we think pink and orange and bright green together are just wonderfulji.
And have interior spaces in cream and orange with the furniture in velvet red, satiny green, and striking purple. Go figure.
Now I know why most MNCs in India offer t-shirt freebies. That’s brand promotion alright but suddenly it also reeks of self-preservation.