A Daunting Blank Page

I've been told by a few people that I should start a blog. I haven't because I'm a Nancy Pants. Now I have, I have this big white space that I am obliged to fill, worse still I have to live up to the expectations of those people who encouraged me to do this in the first place! What if I fail? What if I become known on the internet as that 'blogging tard'? I guess I have pre-empted that with the title and username. Who knows? Who cares? No one really, at present only I know that this even exists.

It's Friday, some how or other I've ended up being lured into the world of professional services, I wanted to be a bohemian rock star and live in a tree house, waxing lyrical about the axis of reality, it didn't pan out and now I'm an office bitch, I wear a suit and attempt to curb my sometimes erratic behaviour and practice 'professional conduct'. Sometimes I succeed, often I don't, but never the less, I'm here and have been for over two years now.

I bring this up because it is casual Friday. I'm in my casuals. I am performing my role as I normally would, in fact, not only have I already completed my to do list, I've also volunteered myself to assist another business unit. Magnanimous you say? That's me in a nut shell.

The concept of casual Friday is a contentious one in several offices, my Dad's old work banned it all together, the new MD here, I've been told is not a fan either. My former boss told me that there was research available that proved that casual Friday changes employees attitude to their work, it creates a less professional environment and usually results in a downturn in productivity for the Friday in question. I haven't seen the research, so I can neither confirm or deny, but I can refute anyway.

Here I sit, in my comfy shoes (that have a decreased likelihood for causing yet another nasty fall out front my building) my practical clothing, to-do-list checked off, providing valuable assistance to someone else and wondering what the fuck is everyone's problem? My casual clothes neither assisted nor hindered my productivity today. I could have come in an aerobic jumpsuit, leg warmers and sweat bands (let's face it, sweat bands are the secret to sex on legs) and it would not have in anyway hindered my ability to do my job or drive to do so. The only consequence of the ensemble I can forsee, may be a little more attention focused on my ankles, and to be fair, ankles as opposed to breasts are probably more appropriate for a professional environment anyway!

Who decided that the same clothing people wear to funerals and weddings was perfect for work anyway? Who decided that the only way to be taken seriously is to look like you're in morning? Who? The male-folk in my office consistently bitch and moan; in summer the outfit is too hot and conducive to underarm sweat patches and unfriendly odor as a direct result, in winter, the outfit is too cold and no one respects a man in a vest outside of a library situation, do they?

I want to know which numpty it was? Builders wear shorts, singlets (wife beaters) and hard hats, plumbers wear overalls, waitresses wear aprons, doctors wear scrubs, but why the fuck am I sitting here Monday to Thursday in a suit? I could do my job in an apron, King Gees, scrubs, but somewhere along the line someone unknown fuck-knuckle dictated that the only way to earn the respect of colleagues, customers and clients alike, was to be uncompromisingly uncomfortable. Thanks idiot and TFIF!