6.g.
Somewhere else
on the twenty-sixth floor, things were quite stationary. And tense.
It was always tense for the employees on the floor twenty six. Their jobs were in constant danger of being
given to another set of workers. And
today, there was a meeting scheduled for this afternoon.
Nothing good
ever came from meetings, Polly knew.
Bottom lines
were discussed and new efficiency parameters would be introduced. And that was if they were lucky.
In the murmur
of office conversation she picked up some alarming snippets.
Moving the whole division.
Cause it costs the same to pay four of them
as it does one of us.
And worst of
all.
It’ll never happen. We’re too important. No one else can do our job.
She rushed out
of the office to the Dress For Success shop down the hall.
Dress For
Success was a small business dealing in office appropriate attire. It thrived on an environment of ever changing
dress-code policies offering a range of styles from business formal to business
casual to business intentionally unkempt and/or sporty. Their proximity to the offices on the
twenty-sixth floor was quite convenient.
Unfortunate coffee spill?
Lunchtime marinara drips?
Accidentally wore blue-jeans on Thursday thinking it was Casual
Friday? They had you covered. Even those feeling awkward at having dressed
business formal on Casual Friday could find the standard denim bottoms and
T-shirt with the humorous-though-still-appropriate saying on a rack in the
back.
Polly needed
something smart and distinctive.
Something that shouted: I’m extremely professional, very current (or was
that called “hip” these days?), an asset to any company, you’d be very stupid
to give my job away to anyone with lesser clothes.
A Dress For
Success employee was hanging up some interesting items that, he claimed, had
just come in. There was a men’s suit in
emerald green, a dark purple one with a mauve tie and–
She spotted
it. The perfect outfit. A mauve skirt and jacket with a dark purple
blouse.
