Work Stories – Conforming?

An Interesting article in the news today about the young woman whoi was sent home from work because she wore her flat shoes rather than high heels?

As an ex-I -want-to-be-a-punk-but-my-mammy-widnae-let-me .. I’m all for non-conformance in most things,  particularly in clothing.

Who gives a fuck what you wear as long as you get the job done?

Obviously .. health and safety could be an issue if you’re working ina dangerous job,  but to sit around an office?

Why do people conform to what the bosses expect?

I watch them as I come off the train, all these workers in their blacks and greys., colourless, bland, rushing to their day-jobs, keen to be part of the machine, conforming to their employers expectations in their dull uniform colours.

There are rare exception of blue,, even less of red, I wonder if these people are just as keen or less likely to conform?

Or is their choice of colour a small statement of the rebellion in their souls?

Occasionally, particularly during summer, there is an occasional blast of colour, burnt orange or emerald green, whatever colour the magazines have pushed as on-trend this month.

Conforming to the current fashion has to be the saddest thing, Chasing that new look, never quite achieving it, then being left behind as it changes again..

Like the punks of the 70s, or the Goths of the 80s, trying to be different, rebelling against .. what?

What they don’t appreciate in their untamed youth, is that wearing their uniform that makes them the same.

It’s just fashion, if you wear the same as everyone else, your peers or social group, even if its not like your dad, then you conform.

If you want to work in an office, a bank, a retail shop, then you tend to be forced into conforming.

What about you?

Do you conform?

Do you wear what is expected of you, so that you fit in?

Do you do what is asked of you quietly even if its something that you don’t enjoy?

If you do, then I feel sad for you.

I look around the faces on the train, soulless expressions, staring ahead, avoiding eye contact, because that’s what we do.

I hate being part of the machine, or even being seen to be part of the machine.

I hate conforming.

Particularly when I do, as it goes against my grain.

And I know that I’m not the only one.

I know that behind these expressionless faces, there are other souls that hate their day jobs, just as much as me.

But I’m lucky, I don’t hate mine, I’ve changed over the years, found a niche that I like and pays well.

It affords a level of comfort, a level of rebellion that’s tolerated, because somehow with this meaningless thing that I do, it has turned out that what other people find difficult I find easy and they pay me a decent wage to be their slave for 37.5 hours per week.

It allows me the freedom to do what I want most of the time, except for my 9-5, 45 weeks per year.

I’m sooooooo lucky!!

Don’t you think?

I don’t.

I’d much rather be on a beach or doing what I want to do every day.

But unfortunately the beach doesn’t pay,

But today I’m at work, the 9-5, dressed in a bright blue shirt, light coloured trousers and tan brogue boots.

Tomorrow, I’ll wear something similar …

I’ll never wear dull blacks and greys except to funerals …

And maybe not even then!

Hold that post … just realised,  that this is my frst blog post in almost two weeks .

I’ve been a busy busy bhoy.

The project I’ve been working on got the approval; to go live yesterday and its been a mad few weeks in which I’ve been working extra hours.

Is that a different type of conforming,  doing whats expected of me?

Nope .. I did it because I love pressure and getting the job done, it  gives me a buzz and I enjoy what I do for a livng.

How a sad a confession is that?!!  🙂


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