Tales in Hot Pink is a weekly column by our fearless leader. Like all management, he is not required to tell the truth, represent himself accurately, or trouble himself with reality in any way. And, in keeping with our corporate style, he is not bound by good taste or specific subject, so he may ramble wildly from topic to topic. As his employees, we encourage this, because the day is long and we are frequently bored.
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Dress for Success
In management, clothes make the man. It's very difficult to get ahead in business if you don't wear pants. Dressy pants, I mean. Blue jean overalls or big yellow plastic fly-fishing trunks just don't go over well in the office. I've tried them. So, in an effort to cultivate a more refined appearance, I went clothes shopping this weekend. A man named Pierre greeted me at the front door of LeDuc's Apparel, a highly-recommended clothing establishment next to Wally's House of Fine Likkers. "Good afternoon, sir," Pierre said with a respectful nod of his head. "How may I help you?" "I'm a CEO," I told him. Pierre waited for more. I just looked at him. "Excellent, sir," Pierre said finally. "How may I help you?" "Well," I sighed, "Apparently, because of sexual harassment laws, I'm unable to walk around the office in plain white undershorts, no matter how many times I've washed them. So I guess I need pants." "Pants," Pierre said appreciatively. "Excellent. We have those." "I'm not talking about blue jean overalls or yellow plastic fly-fishing trunks," I warned Pierre. "I need something that requires a separate belt." Pierre recognized I was a man of refinement. "A separate belt. Tasteful choice, sir. What size?" "I have a 32-inch waist," I told him. It was true, in a way. The 32-inch waist is underneath the waist that I currently have. "Excellent," Pierre said. "Any particular style or brand name you're looking for?" "No," I said. "Just the separate belt. That's important." He took a pair of dark slacks off a nearby rack. "How about these, sir?" "Those?" I asked doubtfully. "They're quite tasteful," Pierre said. "Maybe," I said. "But don't you have anything with more colors in it?" "More colors, sir?" Pierre asked, confused. "Yes," I said. "You see, I'm a CEO, so it's very important that I have a commanding and powerful presence. I'm not sure these pants are going to do the trick. I need something you can see out of the corner of your eye at a dinner party. Something that will make you blink, and possibly spill your martini. When I walk into the board room, I've got to have pants that are bright enough to inspire respect and fear." "Respect and fear," Pierre repeated. "Exactly," I said, glad he was understanding me. "They've got to be so vibrant, when you look at them, you've got to look away. Like staring into the sun." "I see," Pierre said, puzzling over the problem. "Because that's what I want to project," I said. "An 'Apollo the Sun God' kind of demeanor." "So you're looking for pants that a Greek God might wear." "Or Roman," I said. "I'm not picky." "We've got this pair," Pierre said, "in yellow plaid." "That's more of what I had in mind," I smiled. "I see," Pierre said. "They're the perfect employee motivation tool. You look at a pair of pants like these, it just fills you with energy," I said. "Makes you want to work like hell." "Absolutely," Pierre agreed. "You got any fish ties?" I asked. "To go with the pants?" "Fish ties?" Pierre asked. "Like walleye, or pike. Atlantic salmon." "I'm not sure," Pierre said uncertainly. "It's got to be a big fish. Because I'm a big fish, Pierre," I told him. "I'm the big, fishy sun god." "Perhaps we have some fish ties in the store room," Pierre said. "Would you care for a shirt to go with it, sir?" "Baby steps, Pierre," I said. "I've got to wear the tie for a week or two and get used to that before I start getting all fancy with shirts and what-not. I just need the belt that goes with these pants and we'll be all set." "Pardon?" Pierre asked, raising an eyebrow. "There's a belt that goes with these pants, isn't there?" I asked. "You'll have to buy a belt separately, sir," Pierre told me. "Separately?" I asked, amazed. "Wow. They don't automatically come together? As a set? Buy pants, get belt free?" "I'm afraid not," Pierre shook his head. "Boy," I said. "Buying fancy clothes sure can be expensive." Pierre said nothing. I think my corporate forcefulness was making him nervous. Occupational hazard. "That's all right, though," I told him, trying to relax him a little while I took out my wallet. "Just get me something with a big buckle. At least five pounds. A snake, Harley Davidson logo, something like that. It might cost more, but it'll be worth it. Just to see the look on my employees faces when they feast their eyes on my new wardrobe." Pierre nodded in agreement and ran off to fetch my new wardrobe. |
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| A collection of more diseased madness below. Check
out a few, and then buy The Reluctant
Prophet. We won't tell
anyone what you spent your grocery money on. No one needs to
know. We can keep it just between us.
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