Wednesday - Short Skirt Rebellion
Jul. 12th, 2006 03:46 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ninanevermoreToday on my drive into work, I was thinking about an event that I organized back when I worked for the county Toll Road Authority that I called Short Skirt Tuesday. It wasn't any sort of official event, but more of an organized attempt to harass and annoy a particularly prudish coworker. It succeeded beyond my expectations.
I managed the file room at the Authority, and my friend Patty worked in the Violation Enforcement Section (VES), the department that sends out invoices and unfriendly letters to people who go through the electronic toll lanes without a transponder tag. A woman that I will call Janet, who had previously worked as a toll collector, had recently transferred into VES. She did not get along well with any of the other people working in the department, including the supervisor, Laurie. Janet was a dour-faced woman who wore prim, dark-colored dresses and sensible flat-healed shoes. She thought that other people should dress as she did. For some reason, she fixated her hostility about this on a girl named Angie.
Angie was 20 years old and pretty, with long honey-colored hair and long legs to match. She liked to wear short skirts, and because her legs were so long the skirts looked even shorter. Janet began to file complaints, first with Laurie and then with Personnel, that every time Angie bent over that she, Janet, "could see her butt." Unless she had x-ray vision, it simply wasn't true. Angie always knelt down very carefully, and the most anyone would see was the top of her stockings. She favored the type of stockings that had lace running about 5 inches down her thigh, kind of like a pair of lacy bicycle shorts. You could sometimes see the bottom section of this lace when she knelt.
Other co-workers, including Laurie, took up for Janet. As the complaints continued and hostilities grew, I proposed that a protest of sorts was in order. We decided that we would pick a day and that everyone who cared to would wear her shortest skirt, so that Janet would be surrounded by them and she wouldn't even notice poor Angie at least for this one day. Since some of the women who wanted to participate had Mondays off, we chose the following Tuesday.
When I got dressed that morning, I selected a little black skirt with a slit up the right leg. My boss gave me the evil eye whenever I wore it. The dress code did not specify how short a skirt could or couldn't be, but this one was apparently pushing the unwritten limit. I usually secured the slit closed, but since this was a special occasion I left safety pin at home that day. When I showed up at the office, most of the women young enough to still own miniskirts were wearing one, and many of the rest were at least wearing skirts that came above their knees.
Before the day was over, I made a point to drop by VES for a visit. Laurie had requested a box of old invoices out of archives the week before, and I offered to take them back down to the storage room if she was finished with them. Laurie is a sweetheart. She is in her 50s, a soft-spoken mother of three grown sons. She is also a devout Catholic who, unexpectedly, likes to listen to alternative rock. I had a mom-crush on her and wanted her to adopt me, though I never told her this. While dressed primly herself, she was also amused by all of the younger women showing off our legs that day. Janet usually drove Laurie nuts with her constant complaining, and I think that if Laurie had owned a miniskirt, she would have worn it.
She told me she was finished with the box of invoices and offered to put in on my cart for me.
"That's all right, I'll get it," I told her. With my back facing Janet, I bent over at my waist to pick up the box. If she looked up, she definitely saw some butt.
Laurie put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes to keep from laughing. I heard snickers from the other people in the office, except for Janet. She pretended not to see me.
A while later, Patty and I were walking by the front desk where Janet was talking to the receptionist. She looked at Patty and me, her eyes focused on our hemlines.
"Short! Skirts!," Janet said, enunciating each word like an epithet. I held my breath; I thought she was about to confront me. Instead, she turned to the receptionist. "It's because of me. They are all wearing short skirts today because I complained about Angie. But I don't like having to see her butt!"
I turned and ran the 10 feet to my office, with Patty following close behind. After I closed the door to the file room, Patty and I convulsed into laughter until we couldn't breath anymore. I laughed so hard that tears ran down my face.
A few weeks later, Janet transferred back out to work as a toll collector once again, where she could stand in her little booth all day and not have to see what any of her coworkers were wearing below the waist. A few months later, the Toll Road Authority instituted a new dress code at the administrative office that dictated that no woman could wear a skirt with a hem higher than 3 inches above her knees.
I don't like to brag, but I like to believe that both of these things are my fault.
I managed the file room at the Authority, and my friend Patty worked in the Violation Enforcement Section (VES), the department that sends out invoices and unfriendly letters to people who go through the electronic toll lanes without a transponder tag. A woman that I will call Janet, who had previously worked as a toll collector, had recently transferred into VES. She did not get along well with any of the other people working in the department, including the supervisor, Laurie. Janet was a dour-faced woman who wore prim, dark-colored dresses and sensible flat-healed shoes. She thought that other people should dress as she did. For some reason, she fixated her hostility about this on a girl named Angie.
Angie was 20 years old and pretty, with long honey-colored hair and long legs to match. She liked to wear short skirts, and because her legs were so long the skirts looked even shorter. Janet began to file complaints, first with Laurie and then with Personnel, that every time Angie bent over that she, Janet, "could see her butt." Unless she had x-ray vision, it simply wasn't true. Angie always knelt down very carefully, and the most anyone would see was the top of her stockings. She favored the type of stockings that had lace running about 5 inches down her thigh, kind of like a pair of lacy bicycle shorts. You could sometimes see the bottom section of this lace when she knelt.
Other co-workers, including Laurie, took up for Janet. As the complaints continued and hostilities grew, I proposed that a protest of sorts was in order. We decided that we would pick a day and that everyone who cared to would wear her shortest skirt, so that Janet would be surrounded by them and she wouldn't even notice poor Angie at least for this one day. Since some of the women who wanted to participate had Mondays off, we chose the following Tuesday.
When I got dressed that morning, I selected a little black skirt with a slit up the right leg. My boss gave me the evil eye whenever I wore it. The dress code did not specify how short a skirt could or couldn't be, but this one was apparently pushing the unwritten limit. I usually secured the slit closed, but since this was a special occasion I left safety pin at home that day. When I showed up at the office, most of the women young enough to still own miniskirts were wearing one, and many of the rest were at least wearing skirts that came above their knees.
Before the day was over, I made a point to drop by VES for a visit. Laurie had requested a box of old invoices out of archives the week before, and I offered to take them back down to the storage room if she was finished with them. Laurie is a sweetheart. She is in her 50s, a soft-spoken mother of three grown sons. She is also a devout Catholic who, unexpectedly, likes to listen to alternative rock. I had a mom-crush on her and wanted her to adopt me, though I never told her this. While dressed primly herself, she was also amused by all of the younger women showing off our legs that day. Janet usually drove Laurie nuts with her constant complaining, and I think that if Laurie had owned a miniskirt, she would have worn it.
She told me she was finished with the box of invoices and offered to put in on my cart for me.
"That's all right, I'll get it," I told her. With my back facing Janet, I bent over at my waist to pick up the box. If she looked up, she definitely saw some butt.
Laurie put her hand over her mouth and closed her eyes to keep from laughing. I heard snickers from the other people in the office, except for Janet. She pretended not to see me.
A while later, Patty and I were walking by the front desk where Janet was talking to the receptionist. She looked at Patty and me, her eyes focused on our hemlines.
"Short! Skirts!," Janet said, enunciating each word like an epithet. I held my breath; I thought she was about to confront me. Instead, she turned to the receptionist. "It's because of me. They are all wearing short skirts today because I complained about Angie. But I don't like having to see her butt!"
I turned and ran the 10 feet to my office, with Patty following close behind. After I closed the door to the file room, Patty and I convulsed into laughter until we couldn't breath anymore. I laughed so hard that tears ran down my face.
A few weeks later, Janet transferred back out to work as a toll collector once again, where she could stand in her little booth all day and not have to see what any of her coworkers were wearing below the waist. A few months later, the Toll Road Authority instituted a new dress code at the administrative office that dictated that no woman could wear a skirt with a hem higher than 3 inches above her knees.
I don't like to brag, but I like to believe that both of these things are my fault.
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no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 08:58 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:31 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:28 pm (UTC)don't like to brag
Date: 2006-07-12 09:20 pm (UTC)Re: don't like to brag
Date: 2006-07-12 09:33 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:36 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 09:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 11:06 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 03:13 pm (UTC)If you think your life is not wretched enough and that you are not working hard enough and are making too much money, I advise you to try a job in civil service.
Still, it was 4 years that provided me with great fodder for writing about, so I'm not (very) bitter... ;)
no subject
Date: 2006-07-12 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 03:15 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 03:15 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-13 03:19 pm (UTC)You should have heard me having to explain why we couldn't stage the whole event over again to one of the guys (about 19 years old) who worked in the toll tag store and who was out sick that day. He was very annoyed to learn that he had missed it. He actually pouted.