Susan's Scribblings the Blog

Monthly Archives: August 2014

• The Jeans Day Rebellion

  Posted at 2:54 am by kayewer, on August 31, 2014

  My company just changed the dress code, and my wardrobe is now out of style. Maybe it was all along anyway. Office environments usually banned jeans, but since we are in a call center and do not have contact with the general public, the company listened to the suggestions of the rank and file and decided that associates working in call centers could wear jeans all the time, starting the day after Labor Day. This means that Tuesday will be considered by many to be Delivery From Office Attire Day.

  But not for me. Deliver me from denim.

  I don’t really like jeans. I was in the sixth grade before I had my first pair (Levi’s, of course), and over the years I have only had one or two pair in my closet for when I worked in the yard. For one thing, they’re stiff, and by the time you wash them enough to be soft, they’re not wearable anymore. Don’t tell me about pre-washed and “distressed” jeans which have been crushed by rocks, discolored by acids or bleaching methods or mauled by zoo tigers (they really do sell them: look it up), because if they’re that way to begin with, how many more wears can you get from them before you have to throw them out?

  For another thing, jeans have seams so thick in the crotch that, if you are skinny like Twiggy, you can teeter totter from one buttock to another when you sit down. Also, the pockets are too tight at the openings, and made of flimsy material inside. If you got a hole in the pocket, it would take five minutes to force your hand inside to find out your change was missing. If you’re lucky, the pant legs would be tight enough that you might find a dime stuck to your thigh.

  The big debate about dress codes is whether worker productivity goes up or down depending upon what they wear. We are delving into a science based upon comfort and its effect on self esteem. I’m sure the corporate idea was to let the employees know that they listen to us. They want to see happier employees so they can get good work from us. If people are comfortable in jeans, they feel, so be it.

  It’s likely that a woman in a corset from days gone by would not produce much good work sitting in a cubicle. No ergonomic chair on earth could make that torso torture device feel any more comfortable. Today, though, we have a variety of clothing options to look professional. Even in a call center, without suits or business attire, one can be comfortable and stylish and not resort to jeans attire.

  So are we truly a nation of slouchy bums, and should corporate America feel as comfortable in Bruce Springsteen style working class duds, in an office environment, as in a suit or dress? Whether we want to believe it or not, we do judge our environment by what we see in its people, and jeans don’t come off as dressy, classy or smart. Nobody wears denim at an awards ceremony, and one would not approach a monarch in distressed boot cut jeans.

  Also, wearing jeans in my company used to be a treat and privilege: we handed out coupons for the right to wear jeans as rewards and incentives, and certain post-holidays were designated as “jeans days.” Now that is gone. What shall we do for incentives that won’t cost money? The entire clothing game has now changed, and I’m stuck with a closet full of clothes in which I will now look like a rebel.

  So what do I do with my regular clothes? To play it safe when the new dress code takes effect on Tuesday, I hit up Kohl’s for two more pairs of jeans. I have a feeling that the jeans will come off when I get home. At my age, I don’t think denim will be my comfort clothes of choice. It’s an unofficial uniform I can accept, but come 5:00 I can rebel in my old standbys. And I don’t have to wear them to work in the yard.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged jeans in the office, office dress code

• Women at Twerk

  Posted at 1:44 am by kayewer, on August 24, 2014

  I can’t twerk. I found that out today while trying to illustrate the content of a video on YouTube® to my mother:

  I had seen the video about an inflatable tube guy–the type designed to draw attention at car dealers and outdoor events featuring live disc jockeys–which had become kinked and it’s “head” stuck to a telephone pole. The resulting motion created by the fan at its bottom looked like the tubular dude was twerking, but my impression looked more like a bad yoga move, or maybe a bad “my pantyhose are in a bind” move.

  So is it a sign of my age, or of my flagging sexuality, when I can’t parlay the “boo-tay” like some other women? Probably not. There are still men out there (note I say “men,” not “guys”) who look for wit, intelligence or somebody who is fun to be with, and who don’t want to be Alan Thicke if I’m going to be Miley Cyrus. So my “boo-tay” has no beauty and the junk just lies in the trunk. Tyra Banks would say I can’t “tooch” either. She’s right. We older women may well have a middle-age gut that looks more shapely than what we sit upon.

  At the midlife point in women’s lives we all have those moments of thinking about how sexy we still are or are not. I’ve never been one to plug the sexual side, and my bumps and grinds have always been more like collisions and chainsaw hamburger. Sure the men look at the twerkers, and they marry some of them (and divorce them, too), but I will just concentrate on walking tall and in a straight line. And I’ll leave the twerking to the experts, like the tube guy.

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• So Monstrous

  Posted at 2:22 am by kayewer, on August 17, 2014

  I just came from the Monster-Mania convention, and boy are my feet tired. Really. Rule of thumb at any convention event is “no seats allowed.” All the better to encourage walking among the vendors, of which there are many. I walked off about ten pounds. My friend picked up tee-shirts and various little things, while I came out with a horrific looking soda can cozy. Last year I got a tee myself, but since admission was $35, that put a bit of a dent in my spending loot. Besides, I don’t think my boss would like a horror film gewgaw sitting at my cubicle.

  Twice a year a hotel in Cherry Hill, NJ is packed tighter than a creepy clown car, swarming with horror buffs, so we go at least once. I like horror, but I’m selective, preferring vampire fare to the zombies (whom I consider reanimated, not undead), slashers and mutants. People arrive casually dressed, but some are in costume to be seen and talked about and give the children a scare. Over a few hours I saw Anubis (one of the best costumes), a few incarnations of the Joker, clowns of all shapes and sizes, military zombies and even the killer Buffalo Bill from “Silence of the Lambs” in his creepy drag outfit (unfortunately he had to wear flesh tone undies). The conventions also have visiting cult celebrities, and this one featured Adam West (Batman) and Peter Mayhew (Chewbacca), both of whom I spotted in the autograph lounge.

  The “dead”-icated convention fans stay the entire weekend, but an afternoon is enough for me. The next event comes in the spring, and my friend and I are talking about going in costume ourselves, to be seen and give the kids a scare. Now we just need a good idea for a duo (not a dynamic one) costume. I thought about the twin girls in “The Shining,” but we don’t look alike. Maybe if we go as ourselves, that will be scary enough.

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• Sports Authorita

  Posted at 1:35 am by kayewer, on August 10, 2014

  Every time I go grocery shopping, I get a receipt and a coupon for Sports Authority®. They both go in the shredder. Mostly because my body is not shredded or ripped, so I shred the paper instead.

  I don’t feel comfortable enough to enter a sporting goods store. I had quite an experience when I went to a competitor–Dick’s–to get a supply of gift cards for one of my superiors last holiday season. The trek to the checkout aisle was like a hiking expedition and obstacle course wrapped up in one. I had to duck under canoes, avoid the groping sleeves of heavy duty outerwear and wriggle through bins of official sport gear just to buy stuff which fit into a bag the size of a CD case. I probably burned 200 calories without touching a single piece of fitness gear.

  Such things as gift card runs fall under related administrative assistant duties. Maybe, subliminally, somebody was also trying to tell me something, because stepping through the automated sliding doors of a sporting goods store when you are obviously out of shape (and out of your element) is like an alien’s first moments outside the mother ship on our planet. Take me to your litter, as I’m about to collapse from sensory overload. If there is an activity to do, it’s in your face in a sports store, so for those of us who are physically inept, it’s like a vacation in Hell: you wouldn’t normally want to go there, but it’s an experience you won’t likely forget if it’s not your thing in the first place.

  Throughout my school years the physical education crowd tried their darndest to get me to climb a rope, swing on uneven parallel bars, dunk a basket or thwack a golf ball, It never happened. Since I set my feet outside the boundaries of high school for the final time, not once have I needed to climb a rope, swing on uneven parallel bars or aim for anything beyond the living room wastebasket (and I miss that on many occasions). As for golf, I stick to miniature. But darn it, the supermarkets and Sports Authority® are determined to get me into their store.

  Maybe it’s something I’m buying, like the occasional bag of chips. It certainly couldn’t be my Greek yogurt, as that’s supposed to be good for you. “Gee, this customer is buying those chips again, so let’s try to scare some of that excess fat off her by luring her into Sports Authority® with twenty percent off anything but a gift card.”

  I respect the people who can do sports. They make up for those of us who can’t. They also deal with injuries better than most people. They shake it off and bounce back. I bruised myself the other week in my own kitchen, but if I wanted to look cool I could always lie and say I got hit by a mini golf ball.

  Anyway, there is no way I am going to take up a sport at this stage in my life. Unless it involves competitive potato chip eating.

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• Demonic Possessions

  Posted at 1:54 am by kayewer, on August 3, 2014

  A thought came to  me while at Wal-Mart today: another junk season is here. The summer junk is half price and the new junk is ready to roll. I saw racks of summer clothing, brightly colored plastic tumblers, pool noodles, iced tea mixes and flip flops, interspersed with back-to-school notebooks, multi-packs of dorm supplies and the first of the long sleeved tops.

  We are a society obsessed with our seasonal collections and purges, when we throw out the notebook with thirty good pages in it into the trash because the new one at the store is only fifty cents and a bargain. That is, if you find the old notebook. It may be in a pile with some old comic books or hiding under the old model I-Pad. When you have too many of these things–clothes the kids may have outgrown, but you can’t get them to sit still long enough to try them on, the remaining books on the “to read list” from last year, the six cosmetics you tried before you found one that worked–you wind up with clutter.

  Whole reality programs are devoted to clutter. It seems some of us can lose control of our homes’ cleanliness because of clutter. A need to keep things ready for use someday can become an obsession which is bad for one’s mental health and can grow into a health hazard. Yet I have seen a strange phenomenon in our public spaces in which a container or wrapper, the second after the product within is consumed, becomes untouchable and gets dropped to the ground instantly, whether a trashcan is within reach or not. When you see a bag from a fast food place sitting in the middle of a parking lot, you know what I mean. If we could apply that philosophy to our indoor lives, life would be simpler and less likely to become a hoarder’s paradise.

  There is something sad about hoarders. They can often be forgotten individuals with no human contact outside their homes and/or enabling family members or a few close friends who overlook the problem. The hoarder wants to still be useful, and thus so does their clutter. The hoarder won’t throw out the notebook with thirty good pages in it, because somebody could use it. Somebody who can’t afford fifty cents would love to have that used notebook for free, and the hoarder would be able to serve a purpose by having it available for them.

  The middle ground between the throwaway society and the hoarding society is such a tenuous expanse, and our earth is filled with more clutter than a million hoarder’s houses, yet we still want the new thing and still want to get the empty soda cup out of our hands at once.

  A great family project would be to do an annual purge party, in which the old stuff is donated or thrown out if it really can’t be used, the useful can be refurbished (that notebook might look great with some craft tape or some pictures and glue) and you can save money you don’t need to spend on new stuff.

  As for hoarders, they need to feel important and useful. They are, after all, taking charge of all the junk others might throw away. Clean-out crews often just throw everything into a truck and take it away, and hoarders tend to get upset because they feel their collections are being wasted. We need to take a better look at how we deal with our stuff, not throw it out haphazardly, not waste it  nor let it collect and draw dust, bugs or worse. Things do have a purpose, so donate, recycle or buy new with that in mind. Don’t be ruled by the trendy, and don’t take the old for granted.

  And take that soft drink cup those ten steps to the trashcan.

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  Posted in Commentary | 0 Comments | Tagged clutter, decluttering, hoarding, possessions, shopaholics

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