me’s blog

And by thong, I mean flip-flop.

I need to vent.  Or, more specifically, my feet need to vent.  While sitting here at work innocently passing the seemingly interminable 8-hour Monday at my desk, I heard a truly disturbing sound approaching from the other end of the hallway, getting louder and louder like a killer beast from some summer blockbuster horror movie:

fffwip fffwop fffwip fffwop fffwip fffwop fffwip fffwop FFFWIP FFFWOP

Yes, the insanity-inducing annual plague of the Flip-Flopped Workplace Women has once again descended upon DC, and I for one am not going to take it.  Well, not silently anyways.  Like those stupid-ass locust doofuses that come clumsily careening into our lives, our gutters, and our hair every 17 years, so too does the Business Casual Dress Code Double Standard - the BCDCDS - come smacking me upside the head every year around this time.  Why, oh why, are women allowed to wear flip flops, tank tops, and shorts (call ‘em what you want ladies, but you know they’re shorts) all summer long, while we men have to wear long pants, socks, actual shoes, and at the very least, short sleeves?  It’s damn hot outside today, and I for one would love to be able to go fffwip-fffwopping down the hallway with toes, legs, and arms a-flappin’ in the breeze. 

Buuuuuuuut no.  Because I work in an office and was born with one appendage that women are rumored to envy, my other appendages are forced to live a life of quiet seclusion, never seeing the light of a summer weekday until after 5:30’s metaphorical whistle blows.  And maybe I’m crazy, or perhaps just gay, but I for one do not want to be having women’s feet aurally flaunted in my face all day long.  It’s like that obnoxious woman with the tiny head from those Room Store commercials who takes her shoes off and puts her bare feet all up on the furniture.  That’s not smart advertising.  That’s just nasty.

This weekend my sister was talking about how she needs to get better at following through when she makes a mental note to write a letter about some injustice she perceives or encounters.  Even though she’s probably at work right now wearing dressed-up flip-flops (or - and God how I hate this word - "strappy" sandals), perhaps I should take inspiration from her and write a letter.  To her boss.  Mental note.

I did dip my toe in the water, so to speak, by venting briefly about this to two male friends online today, both office professionals, hoping to elicit a smidge of sympathy.  They impressively managed to stifle their inner monologues (which were undoubtedly chanting "nanny nanny boo boo") as they both promptly informed me that they were currently wearing flip flops.  At work.

They’re such women.  And they know who they are.

So is this just my own personal cause, or is anyone else out there a victim of this sick and twisted societal inequity?  Would you sign my hypothetical petition, given the unlikelihood that I’ll ever take action on my mental note?  Would you stand with me, besandaled, as we all join hands and march upon Washington, united as one, demanding equal rights for workplace feet everywhere?  One small fffwip-fffwoppy step for man, one giant fffwip-fffwoppy step for mankind!

Or should I just put on a parka, ski pants, leg warmers, and some wading boots and cover my ears with my hands until September?

This entry was posted on Monday, June 18th, 2007 at 1:12 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.