Last Friday, a guy half my age who started working in my office about a month ago wore a suit to work. I kidded around with him in a good-natured way by saying, “you must be having an important meeting!”

He smiled and said, “no, not really. I just like to dress up.”

…there I was on blue-jean Friday in Chippewa Firefighter boots and blue jeans mumbling to myself.

After I returned to my office, I began to think aloud: “oh yuck!” and “is he serious?” I shuddered several times. My visceral, negative reaction woke me up. I thought, “my goodness, why do you feel so strongly negative about dressing up and wearing a suit and tie?”

Honestly, I just absolutely can’t stand it. I looked back on my childhood and tried to remember just when it was that I developed such an aversion to dressing up. I cannot remember for the life of me. I have always disliked dressing up.

Intrigued, I called my twin brother and asked about this. My twin, unlike me, has been Mr.-suit-and-tie his whole life. He truly seems to enjoy dressing up and wearing suits. He told me, “heck, you never ever EVER have liked to dress up. I remember that Mom put you in a suit for (our sister’s) wedding when we were 6 years old, and you promptly went out and jumped into a mud puddle!”

Perhaps the revulsion of the outfit is not so much the outfit but what it is supposed to represent. We have been fairly well indoctrinated to believe what is viewed as the uniform of success. People who make the rules wear suits. People who are “wannabes” wear suits, too (like the new guy in my office.) Whereas people who carry out the rules wear uniforms, polo shirts, and khakis.

For many, wearing a suit to work conveys a perception of success and being seen as “professional” — not just to themselves but to others as well. My friend Kevin and I will create our own definition of dressing professionally. It doesn’t have to include wearing a suit every day, especially if the office dress code is “business casual.” I am regarded highly in my profession and have an international reputation which was earned by my contributions to my field, not by wearing a costume.

This is an ongoing “problem” for me, if you call it that. As much as I enjoy wearing leather and boots, I feel equally the opposite about wearing suits and shoes, but there are those times when I just can not avoid wearing dress clothes and a noose (oops, I mean “tie.”)

We all wear costumes to work and the most attractive are those who wear the clothes and don’t let the clothes wear them. I have blogged about something similar as it relates to those who wear leather as a costume versus those who do so because of function or that it simply suits them. The latter do not have the slightest interest in the “leatherman rules” or roles because the clothing doesn’t define them. Leather is just clothing — nothing more, nothing less. At least, that is how I perceive it (and my friend Kevin, too, who gave me these words.)

I dress up if I must, such as for a funeral or a wedding or a required meeting with big-wigs in agencies with whom I work. After all, I am in a management position and such attire is more the norm for people at my level. But I consider dressing up to be a chore. I get a chill up my spine every time I see that commercial on TV for whatever-suit-sales company it is where its CEO says at the end, “you’re going to like the way you look.” Yeah, right… not me.

Believe me, I have tried a number of ways to work this out. My partner had me fitted by a good tailor in a nice-looking suit as a gift for one of our first Christmases. He said I looked great. I felt miserable. I have had tailors fit me for a tux for the very rare times I have had to be part of a wedding party or attend a formal embassy dinner. I had these continuous chills running up and down my spine until I could get that damn monkey suit off my back.

Anyway, it was an interesting internal self-exam. It affirms what I already know: suits aren’t for me. And if I ever had to wear shoes, the defibrillator would have to be nearby, ’cause someone would have to use it on me.

Life is short: enjoy it in leather and boots!

I appreciate my friend Kevin’s thoughtful advice and experience which contributed to improving this blog post before it was published.

No, not done with blogging or with life, but with work this week. I have been exceptionally busy and “crashing” on a huge project that was due yesterday. After 70 hours of work this week alone, this project has consumed every friggin’ moment of my time. In fact, I even had to bring it with me when I visited the mother-in-law last weekend.

My partner has almost forgotten what I look like, and he is probably appearing emaciated as he has had to feed himself these past several nights. (He still feels warm, though… I may be exhausted, but I am not dead! LOL!)

Anyway, if you have written to me lately and I have not replied, it’s because I literally put everything else in my life “on hold” this week while I worked on that project. It was submitted by the deadline last night. I was “rewarded” with a day off today (Friday). Oh goodie, I can sleep really late like until 5am or something….

After I submitted the project via a complex on-line secure portal, I notified the team of professionals I was leading through this process to advise them that it was done. It’s a great relief to all of us. You can hear big sighs of relief from California to Florida, from Washington (state) to Washington, DC, from Maryland to Hawaii.

In response, one of my team partners replied with these sayings, which I really liked:

Vision without Action is daydreaming
Action without Vision is wandering
Vision with Action is Destiny

Life has a way of making room for those who know where they’re going

Life is short: do what you gotta do!

English clergyman George Herbert is credited for coining this phrase. I decided to use that phrase for this blog post which is about some observations on my past life and former employer, and why that phrase came to mind as I am attending a major national conference this week. In fact, I am scheduled to make a presentation during the conference today.

The attendees of this conference, exhibitors, and fellow speakers are from the “small world” of my profession. When I got out at the closest Metro station to the hotel where the conference is being held, I walked to the curb to wait for a shuttle bus. Standing there was a long-time colleague from a large federal agency with which I worked closely for over 25 years. She gave me a hug, and was truly delighted to see me (and me too, in return).

When I walked into the hotel, the Executive Director of the professional association sponsoring the conference greeted me, gave me a big hug, and bought me a Coke. She is always so nice, and we have truly appreciated a deep friendship in addition to a professional relationship.

Dozens of people greeted me, shook my hand, and each and every one said that they were planning on attending my presentation today. No pressure….

I met with people and attended sessions at the conference, and enjoyed being “back in my element.” As I was leaving for the day, though, I saw the person who was my last boss at my former employer. I did not speak with her, but just seeing her made my stomach turn.

I got to thinking: when I left my former employer, my former boss did as much as she could to make my life miserable. She attempted to turn former colleagues who I once thought were friends against me. She did not lie (as far as I can tell), but did not refute rumors and innuendo about why I left. She engaged in a paranoid campaign to destroy any evidence of my twenty years of professional contributions.

I think she would have been happy if my life had fallen apart after leaving that job. Heck, she tried to make that happen.

If I were a vengeful person, I could have done a number of things in return for such treatment. Instead, however, I steeled my resolve. I concentrated on caring for my uncle through the winter of his life. I leaned on and received support from my partner and my family.

Being the saver that I am, I had enough financial resources that even without doing consulting during that period, I could have survived just fine. Then I got a job, got promoted, and am continuing to do quite well now. Sure, I had a pile of doggy-doo hurled at me, but I fended it off and rose above the fray.

While at the conference, I heard some awful stories about my former employer and some relationships that some of its representatives significantly damaged within the last month. I am very saddened to hear that. Unfortunately, incompetence reigns. That was the main reason why I left: the Peter Principle (people rise to their level of incompetence) definitely applied.

It was way past time to move on when I did, and I sure am glad I did so. I am living well because I have a wonderfully supportive partner, a loving and caring family, truly terrific friends, and I just love life! I have a great home, an embracing community, and feel that my contributions in the variety of things that I do are appreciated. It’s true: living well is the best revenge. When I see my former boss at the conference today, I will flash her the biggest smile of all. It will be sorta my way of saying, “nah-nee-nah-nee-hoo-hoo.”

Life is short: live it well.

Some days I just love my job! Tuesday was an inspirational day.

Photo above: my transportation. Behind it: Ft. McHenry, the fort that was attacked by Royal Navy ships during the Battle of Baltimore in the War of 1812. It was this battle, witnessed by Francis Scott Key, that inspired him to write a poem titled “Defence of Fort McHenry,” later named The Star Spangled Banner when it was set to music and became the U.S. National Anthem in 1931.

Photo above courtesy of a colleague.

Photo below: among the sights I saw, our Maryland Chesapeake Bay Bridge.

I am attending a conference sponsored by the organization I work for. The conference is being held in a hotel in Washington, DC. It got rather warm today outside (about 70°F, 21°C). Since I would much rather be riding my Harley, I compromised. I rode my Harley to the conference, since I’m staying at home and not in the hotel.

Today it got hot inside the hotel. They weren’t expecting outdoor air temperatures to get so warm this time of year, so they did not have cooling on inside.

Our big boss expects all of the staff to wear a suit — “business attire” — throughout the conference. Bleccchhh. Oh well, I do what I have to do. (Don’t worry, though, I still had boots on. I really don’t own any shoes.)

After an uncomfortable morning, sitting there in a shirt and tie but with the jacket casually draped across the back of my chair, the boss noticed and “suggested” that I keep my jacket on. I looked around, and noticed that most men who were dressed up had their jackets on. Well, since I was “asked…”.

In the early afternoon, I was sitting in the back of a room observing a meeting, and felt rather clammy. I looked down at the front of my shirt, and noticed that it was all wet with sweat. As I was noticing this, a colleague came up to me and asked, “are you okay?” He said that my face was all red and there was a lot of sweat on my forehead.

I stood up and removed my jacket. I discovered to my dismay that my shirt was completely drenched in sweat. Then I was even more shocked to see that I had sweat stains below the waist. I was burning up!

I left the meeting and went to a more private area to try to cool off. My colleague was very worried about me, and came with me. He was suggesting that perhaps I needed to go to a doctor, as I was still sweating like crazy. A hotel staff person walked by, looked at me, and asked, “do you need some ice, sir?” I said “yes!”

I sat there for about an hour drinking ice water and cooling down. I put an ice pack on the back of my neck and on each wrist. Eventually, I cooled off. Another colleague loaned me a dry shirt, and I recomposed myself to finish out the day.

I don’t know how men do it — wear a jacket, shirt, and tie all day. I just can’t. I figure my reaction was a combination of the heat inside the building, my strong discomfort in the clothing I had to wear, and my concern about the situation causing me to react.

Tomorrow — shirt, but no undershirt. Lighter pants. Lighter jacket (I only have two, so what I have will have to do). And I will carry that blasted jacket and only put it on when I see the big boss.

It’s odd that I can wear leather and not get so overheated. But close up my neck with a stupid necktie and smother me in a suit jacket, and something goes flooky in my mind or something. Uggghhh… three more days of this. Wish me luck!

My partner said this morning as we were getting ready to go to work, “you look nice!” as he looked at me in a shirt and tie, dress slacks, and boots, of course. (I don’t own any shoes, nor will I.)

I should be happy with receiving a compliment. He is always so supportive in so many ways.

But I just h-a-t-e neckties. I really do. I always have. I don’t like how they look. I can’t stand how they feel. Even with a properly-fitted shirt, wearing a tie still makes me feel like I’m being bound. And I am definitely not into bondage whatsoever.

My statement about feeling “bound” is a metaphor. Perhaps my feelings of revulsion toward neckties has more to do with how I rebel against conformity. I have strongly resisted being forced through society’s pressures to conform to a certain style of dress, manners of behavior, ways of being. I see a necktie more than anything else as a symbol of conforming to society’s old-fashioned pressures.

Alas, I love my job. Part of keeping that job is having to go along with what the boss wants, and what the employer expects. After all, I was recently promoted to a fairly high level position. That promotion was based mostly on what I know and what I can do, but I know they wouldn’t have put me in that position if I did not conform to their expectations of dress when we meet with people from outside the organization, or our organization’s members.

Thank goodness they don’t extend those expectations to footwear. Seriously, if somehow they insisted that I had to wear dress shoes, I probably would quit. But my boots are shined, look fine with pants over, and not a one of my co-workers or bosses have said anything about what’s on my feet.

Yesterday when I facilitated a meeting with law enforcement leaders, I had to wear a shirt & tie. Fortunately, I could do the symbolic thing of wearing a jacket in the first moments of the meeting, then taking it off and placing it on the back of a chair. Most other men did the same, except for a few. There are always a few — like my twin brother — who wear a jacket and tie and say they like it. Poor fellas….

As the meeting went on and I was becoming very “engaging” (or some say “hyperactive”) to maintain attention, the tie was loosened and the top button was undone. Again, this is acceptable during a meeting… to loosen up as it progresses, particularly if you’re running around as I do when I facilitate a meeting. (Some call me the equivalent of a game show host as active as I am during a meeting.)

Today, I have a meeting at a federal agency, so once again, I had to put on a tie and have a jacket with me. I put the tie on at home, and wore it to work. But as I was catching up on my morning email, I just felt more and more confined, restrained, and restricted. My usual free-flow morning creativity was just gone. I had to finish writing a proposal, but my thoughts weren’t gelling. This was serious!

So I reached up and yanked the tie off, and unbuttoned my collar. I stepped out to get some water and take a short walk around the office. When I returned ten minutes later, I was in a completely different state of mind. The rest of that proposal just flowed from my brain to the fingers on my keyboard. I think it’s a winner — and all because I took that damn tie off.

I know, some of the readers of this blog (hey, Maf) think suits & boots are an enjoyable appearance. I’ve heard that from others. That’s fine, I am glad you enjoy it. I just don’t. I never have. Yuck. Just ask my twin brother: I got the “jeans” genes, and he got the “suit” genes.

I know it’s all in my head. But that’s just how I am. Men’s neckties should be banished from the world. We all would be more comfortable, too.