Caught, part 2

Another hot day in Seattle last week, so naturally I walked to work shirtless. Arriving at my office high rise, I strolled into the lobby and headed for an elevator. Before one could arrive, a suit turned to me and said, "Excuse me sir, do you have a shirt?" Of course I did; it was in my back pack staying clean from my perspiring body. "Would you please put it on?" he suggested. "We have a dress code."

A dress code? In an office building? Geez, what are they afraid of? I should have asked to see that dress code in writing. I wonder what all it involves. Or maybe it was a bluff to make himself sound more authoritative.

But I did not resist. Pulling my shirt out of my backpack, I asked whether the building had showers. After all, if I'm expected to dress to use the elevators, shouldn't I at least be able to rinse the sweat off my body first? He told me one was available for building tenants. And when I identified myself as an employee of a tenant, he was very polite in giving me the combination to the shower room. Guess I should try it out one of these days.

Okay, that's the end of the story. Another example of a segment of American culture that can't tolerate bare skin — even above the waist — for no rational reason. Maybe I should investigate that alleged "dress code" after all.