There’s a storm brewing at work over the way we dress. Or it could be all in my head, a tea cup or whatever. Our Kenyan bosses, I have come to notice, really get their panties twisted when it comes to dressing. Now, just like it was with the previous bossman, our new MD has come with his own fervor regarding how we must present ourselves at work.
We are required to wear SUITS (yeah, don’t laugh) and we must do this throughout the week. The ladies have it rougher; they have been told to leave the jeans home. No more skinnies, dearies. At the weekend, we can put on only DARK jeans (who would want to wear white jeans?)
But this is like going round Mt Sinai. Same ol’ same ol’. I mean, I expected to see peeps all suited up this morning. I thought I’d be the odd man out. I thought I’d be denied entry at the gate or something. I guess even the security people do not believe in this charade.
I just want this fuss to be over with so we can all get back to our usual drabness.
And also, I have been doing some field work lately and it feels good. Going to rural areas finding out about the impact of malaria is not exactly the best way to spend time out of office but interacting with the different people out there, going into their lives and seeing their humanness up-close has been refreshing.
Oh, and, please be careful with your cars. I hear the thugs have gotten so clever. And vicious. Someone bumps you from behind, don’t stop. You are probably a few minutes away from a really nasty experience.