The older men in the office block, along with some of the executives, didn’t respond well to the changes made that morning. The whole thing had been announced the night before, only the night before, in a company-wide email that said “Folks, please welcome into operation our new Casual Clothing Scheme. A new campaign going forward dedicated to protecting our wonderful staff during the daily office hours from 8:30am – 5pm. This is an exciting new step forward for our company and we encourage people to honour it immediately without question or concern.” The email said that “This comes in light of new emerging details regarding savage sexual abuse in our otherwise very holistic workplace. Women: you are required from now on to wear anything at all that is baggy and unflattering. Keep those beautiful tight bodies tucked away, and safe, from the leering eyes of your male co-workers. This campaign is for YOU as we need to feel in our hearts that you all are feeling well protected. Men.” it then said. “Just keep wearing your chinos and your basic shirts. The baggier the better I guess. And please, going forward, try and keep your hands to yourself and your eyes securely tucked inside your skulls. This is paramount for the health of the business. Regards, the HR team of this company.”
“What kind of bullshit cuntflap issued this?” yelled one of the partners. It was the next day in the ‘male only’ canteen on the fifteenth floor. The guy speaking was a tall, loud, greying man (not a silver fox), with pointy features and red spotted hands. He stood before his colleagues, holding court, shouting and slamming his fist off a close-by table, knuckles first. “Are they really suggesting that we are a bunch of sexual fucking deviants? Are they? ARE THEY?”
“Well boss.” said a much fatter employee. “The email pretty much says it right there. We’re scum apparently. But also, I’m happy with the fact I get to keep my chinos and my shirts. The wife, well my ex-wife, just bought me a new pair for my birthday yesterday and I can hardly wait to showcase them.”
The consternation in the room, what with all the angry men, had started to resemble that of an aggressive courtroom (if you can picture such a thing). There were executives of all ages now, big guys, punching holes into the walls and kicking over chairs like they had just lost a heap of money on a bet. Not long after that, the trash bins got it. Hard. Every single one of them, from all four of the corners.
BANG. BOOM. BLEEP. BLOP.
Like piggies in shit, for a while afterwards, the men rejoiced in tinkering with their own filth. Here they were, educated men, suits, running around like fat apes and patting each other on the back – saying things like:
“Great job, guy.”
and
“I love your nasty side.”
This carnage went on and on so it did. For almost six minutes. And the more it went on, the more those little goons became fully convinced of themselves and their pompous little actions. To them, everything was 100% justified. By the third minute, they were up on each other’s shoulders, parading around with makeshift flags, screaming “Fuck women anyway. Who needs them when you have all the porn in the world available at your fingertips.”
“HURRAH!”
The men figured that if they carried on like this for long enough, a firm argument would eventually get to those in power of the controls – those faceless admin gals up in units 6 and 7. They said that with enough brute force lads, we’ll be able to drive them into a corner, and if we do that well, they might just cease operations and forget about the whole damn thing.
“A cause like this.” said one of the screaming partners. “Is certainly worth fighting for. Right boys?”
“Right.”
A man in his sixties stood up on a table then and spoke to the room. He was a curly brown haired man with stumpy, fat legs and a big nose and when he stood on the table it wobbled a bit.
“We just need to save the mini-skirts.” he said. “That’s all. If we can just save the mini-skirts, maybe this casual clothing lark won’t be too bad for us. It’s simple, it’s basic, and hey, we’ll still get the content we need to jerk one off every other hour or so. Am I right or am I right?”
“You are not wrong Brian.” said the head of global purchasing. “For someone so small and so dumpy, you really do speak incredible truths from time to time. Honestly.” he said. “I’m really impressed by your gumption. Remind me to promote you when this fiasco is all over.”
“Thanks.” said Brian. “I will.”
Down in the women’s department, the joys relating to this new rule had been building up and up all morning. Excited women were now bursting in through the doors carrying bags upon bags of the most casual looking clothes anyone has ever seen, saying:
“Look at this” and “Look at me”
“Oh my God, I’m so normal.”
A different woman stepped forward and throwing her hands high up into the air, she said “Isn’t it wonderful to know that we will never get harassed again in the workplace by those awful, awful men.”
“YES.”
“Not when we can look like tramps in our tracksuits and our crocs.”
“It’s so good.” said another woman, a blonde. “I’m starting to get that tingling sensation in my stomach again. Like that warm feeling you get when it’s Christmas or the time I had my first ever miscarriage.”
“OMG girl, I love this for you.”
A woman called Ulga stormed in then, right then, and stood her big Estonian self right in the middle of the floor. While everyone watched, she carefully squatted down and one by one started removing each of her tall heels. Shortly after that her tweed skirt came off followed by her tight leather top. Everything went into a neat and tidy pile on the floor and when she was ready, she quickly stood up, lit a match and set it all ablaze.
“Fuck you.” she said, pointing into the rising flames. “Never again will I wear you. The only time I’ll wear you, ok, is when I wanna fuck. But for now though, it’s goodbye. Adios.”
Ulga had all the strong features of a buff man but in her head she was nothing but a princess. A strong and confident woman with lots to prove to the world.
“You go girl.” they all said.” Ain’t nothing gonna ever stop you.”
In a moment of inspiration, the head marketing lady stepped forward, she was a beautiful looking creature, and dumping her own casual rags onto the floor she said “Ladies. This is a great day and the start, I feel, of something profound. Let us get together now in this moment and see just how bang average we can all make ourselves today. Strive for atrocious. Or worse if you can manage it. Ok, I’ll go first.”
And so she did, and not long after that every other woman followed suit by stripping down to only her skivvies. For the next few minutes, in celebration of their unprecedented joy, the women danced around and played with each other like a rowdy group of children at a campfire.
Time went by and nobody felt it.
But in the middle of the floor, right there, a small fire kept burning away while everyone’s backs were turned. And in classic fire fashion, of course, she grew bigger and bigger and eventually started to smoke.
Back upstairs in the ‘All Men Department’ a flock of suits had now gathered themselves at the feet of one of the partners – a much older dude called Michael. Things were much calmer now, and more composed, as they sat on the floor looking like school children awaiting orders from a headmistress. Each man on the ground was as still as a post and looked right up into Michael’s eyes with a measure of awe and wonderment – like he were the Messiah. Everything went real quiet real quick the second Michael shot his hand up into the air. For a happily married father of two, he certainly knew how to give off those Der Führer vibes without much prompting.
It was official.
The men had finally found their leader.
For a while they waited for him to speak. As disciples they wanted to be addressed so that they could maybe find a way towards some justice – and maybe some light. And they were about to get it too. In a big long spiel. Michael had just opened his mouth to speak when suddenly “EEEEEEEKKK” – a huge screeching banshee-like roar came shooting through the room like an abominable freight train.
“Jesus Christ.” said the company’s accountant. He was covering his ears. “What in God’s name is that?”
“It’s the fire alarm.” someone yelled. “The fucking fire alarm. What genius did that I wonder?” but no-one knew.
Then the big announcement arrived through the tannoy speakers, telling everyone to evacuate immediately. It said: “Warning. Warning. This is not a drill. Please evacuate the building immediately. I repeat, this is not a drill. Please evacuate the building immediately.”
There was savage panic all of a sudden. On these upper floors, the men knew it would take a while to get down to level ground via the stairwells only because they were too tight and dingy. Some men huddled together like gays and started crying. They thought it was ISIS coming to get them. They were probably in town, like a circus troupe, looking for fresh new victims to take part in their new 9/11 themed catastrophe. Brilliant.
“What on earth will we do?” screamed one fellow. “I had no hope whatsoever of dying today. I have two kids and a cheating wife that I desperately, desperately need to get home to.”
“We are not going to die you dumb plum.” said one of the executives. “It’s a fire alarm for crying out loud. Not a tax audit. Just go down the stairs over there and keep going down until you hit solid ground. Ok? Problem solved Ahmir.”
The place was frantic now with a scrambling bevy of unattractive men. Like headless chickens they were for a while. Or little women. Going this way and that. Up and down. Trying to grab every-single-thing that they could. Anything at all that might be essential just so they could get the hell out of there lively before anything else happened.
One suit, a fit and lean looking guy, eventually found the stairs and summoned everyone else to come over and right away, they did. In a slick and fast moving single file, each of the men made their way down the stairs, floor by floor, keeping their weakest links at the front and their strongest men at the back.
The alarm was still sounding out and the lower the men went down the louder the thing seemed to get. Everyone trying to escape, literally everyone, was running now with their two hands up over their ears and their eyes half closed. A sound so loud it was borderline unbearable.
“This is a terrible version of hell.” they all said. “I guarantee when we get to the bottom there’ll be blood and guts dripping from our ears and coming out of our eyes.”
“Just two more floors to go guys.” said one of the leaders. “We are almost there. Keep pushing. Keep pushing. We can do this.”
When they finally got to the bottom, one by one they ran out into the parking lot and assembled themselves into the nearest handicap zone. The place was full of people now. And action. Lots of bodies milling about trying to compose themselves while others were only getting used to the shock.
Then came the reveal.
And when it happened, all the company’s men, their jaws mostly, sank to the floor in total disbelief at what they were now seeing. The women from downstairs, every single one of them, here they were, lined up like bold children at the curb, semi-naked, freezing, and soaking wet from head to tit to toe. “All because of an accident.” they said.
“Or some kind of fire.”
Despite their plans at an effective change, there wasn’t a baggy item of clothing to be seen for miles. Not for miles. Where are the HR team when you need them, eh? they all wondered. “God only knows.” said one old man, licking lips and groping himself. “I’m certainly a lot less concerned with HR and more pleased with what’s standing before me here right now. Can you believe it lads, they couldn’t even get the bloody day out of this new scheme.”
“There is a God.”
One bloke leaned forward, and squinting over at his half naked colleagues, he said “Jesus Christ. It certainly is a long time indeed since I’ve seen a thong act like that, so taut on a woman’s hips. Tell me this.” he said. “Was black lace always your favourite?”
The girl dropped her head at the question and went bright red in her cheeks.
“I told you it wouldn’t work.” screamed a man from somewhere. “It was only ever going to be doomed from the get go. I mean, how in God’s name did you ever think it would be a success? Ha! You all got too excited I bet, I bet that’s what happened, and very near burned the whole lot of us into the ground. Well.” he said. “Did ye enjoy yer little moment in the sun? Was it worth it? Psssff, what were ye thinking?”
“We weren’t thinking.” said one of the women. Sad, wet, and still shivering. “That’s the problem.”
The head of global purchasing stepped forward then and said: “The cold autumn air is hitting you nicely there ladies.” Re-adjusting himself so that his hand was down his pants, he said (in front of everyone) “Stay there a moment and we get a good look at you all before this dream ends. Lord knows you’ve put us boys through a lot today. We almost deserve this. Don’t we team?”
“Yes boss.”
Then the alarm stopped.
