The Job You Want
Judy approached Chuck’s desk slowly, equal parts concerned and befuddled.
“Oh, hey Judy.” He went back to his work.
Chuck looked up again. “Yes? You need help with something?”
“All right, Chuck, I gotta ask: What’s going on with…this…?” She sheepishly motioned in his general direction.
“What? …oh, you mean my clothes? Well, have you ever heard the saying ‘Dress for the job you want, not the job you have’?”
“Well, I’ve always wanted to be an exotic dancer, sooo…”
“Sooo…that’s why you’re wearing thong bikini briefs? And why you’re slathered in baby oil?”
“And I’m curious: That Chippendales shirt-collar-and-cuffs-without-the-actual-shirt dealy? Where do you even get those?”
“At Sears, actually. They don’t have them on display, but if you go to the Men’s Department and ask someone, they’ll get ’em out of the back.”
“No–kidding! I ordered ’em online.”
“Oh…heh. Good one…WELL, anyway…I’ll let you get back to work, so…”
“OK. Good to see you, Judy. Have a good one!”
Judy wasn’t sure what was worse: That Chuck’s “outfit” was seriously out of dress code compliance, or that…well, that Chuck was dressed that way even though physically he was not, shall we say, exotic dancer material.
But at the end of the day, when she took a look at the numbers and saw that Chuck had done double his usual amount of sales–doing cold calls, no less–she had half a mind to let him continue dressing that way.