Mr Catalogue Model
During the late 90's I dossed around doing temp work as it fitted in with the band I was in and my stoner lifestyle.

I landed a gig doing spare part ordering for a large truck manufactuer in their main warehouse in Cheshire and turned up in my best suit (A mandarin collared - Jet Li style black suit) and matching shirt.

The job was dull - sat infront of a dumb terminal checking availability of parts for grease-monkeys and ordering or reserving them for delivery. My immediate boss Cheryl, was lovely and on the first day found that she was a rock chick who had seen my band several times and who thought we were great. Life was good.

That was until the end of the second day, when the door to the office was thrown open by a blond haired catalogue model with lantern jaw and an equally artifical personality - he strode in, looked me up and down and then breezed into Cheryl's office and shut the door.

You know when someone is talking about you and I kept turning around to see him talking at Cheryl and pointing at me. I was later called in to see my boss after he had gone and was told "That was my boss and he has asked me to tell you that there is a dress code in the office of shirt and tie, could you adhere to this please from tomorrow"

My hackles went up and I asked if there was dress code for women in the company - she said that there wasn't. So I started mentioning sexism and equality in the workplace, to which she became very amused and agreed with me that it definitely was sexism.

The days following saw a daily visit from Mr catalogue model and even company ties turn up on my desk. Every day had me in Cheryl's office after his visits with stronger warnings of having to adhere to the company dress code and for me please wear a shirt and tie.

I wasn't fucking going to - he had pissed me off at first sight with his "you're shit on my shoe" look and arrogance - and I was sticking to my guns about the sexism and equality issue.

Friday came, my boss pulled me into her office again and said that she was off on Monday and just to keep things smooth and me there in the contract, would I please wear a collared shirt and tie.

I turned up on Monday in my collarless suit and shirt to be immediately pulled into the office by Mr catalogue and given a royal petty dressing down; "I believe that Cheryl has repeatedly relayed my requests that you dress to the company dress code - how DARE you defy my authority" - blah! blah! blah!
I looked him square in the face and started quoting employment, equality and sex discrimination acts - to which he went fucking purple and started shouting at me to do what I was told - and I had "better come in in a shirt and tie tomorrow or else!".

I knew that my contract was going to be terminated there and then, so I went straight to the shops after work and bought myself a very nice shirt and silk tie.

I turned up the following morning, threw the office door open and strode in like he did and then struck the best catalogue pose I could...

There was a very loud series of gasps and then I got a standing ovation from my colleagues.

I had on the most gorgeous blue cotton shirt and silk tie, tucked into the most gaudy multi-coloured bemuda shorts showing off my knees and half of my pasty white shins before the battered paratrooper boots started.

He was sat in the back office and no word of a lie, I am sure that the glass condensated when I walked in. He said nothing - absolutely nothing and I worked away, coiled, waiting for him to have a go. Nothing.

Until 4.30 - when I got back from a fag break to be ushered into his office by a boilersuit wearing warehouse manager who closed the door behind me. Mr Catalogue was sat in the chair, 6'7" warehouse guy by the door, and another huge shop floor worker next to the desk.

Mr Catalogue tried to go into an authorititive speech about how I was no longer needed and how my behaviour was unacceptable, my work shoddy and how I would never get a decent job. But he stammered through all of it and kept breaking his gaze on me because I was unblinkingly staring at him. I kept grinning at him trying to keep my cool and not just roll about on the floor laughing at the pathetic fuckwit's posturing.

"Do you have anything to say before you leave?"

"Yes! You're just jealous because in these shorts you can see I clearly have a bigger dick than you and also unlike you I can pull this particular look off!"

He went purple - the two shop-floor grunts stifled belly laughs, before the one behind me opened the door and said that I had better leave - which I did. With my head held very fucking high!

Spring never employed me again though.
(Catchag "You know!....For Kids!", Thu 2 Mar 2006, 14:24, Reply)