The other day I promised to provide details regarding the frequent pantyhose inspections that took place at my former job. Long since paroled resigned from that position, today, shamefaced and humiliated, I’ll briefly summarize how a master degreed professional was reduced to a work life replete with fearful sick leave taking, snack sneaking, and pantyhose wars.
In the same office where employees were subject to human voice analysis for sick day legitimacy and where random trashcan inspections were elevated to an art form, monitoring female employees for pantyhose wearage (no, it’s not a real word) was a priority. I know what you’re thinking. How is it possible that all that Really Bad Boss talent was concentrated in one office? Implausible as it may seem, it’s true. If there’s a management guide on how to demoralize employees, lose their trust and respect, and cause heat stroke, these managers read it, perfected it and then submitted tips on how to improve it. And on page 378 is an entry that reads something like this “Failure of subordinates to wear pantyhose will cause the total and complete meltdown of the system, resulting in a shifting of the earth on it axis.” I’ve never had access to the manual, but page 378 must have been dire to elicit the kind of fervent adherence to pantyhose wearage displayed by management.
The irony of the whole thing is that in their eyes, wearing pantyhose epitomized professionalism. In their minds, clients would overlook the worn carpets and drab office walls. They’d tolerate long wait times, antiquated office machinery and incomplete and incorrect answers to their questions. But what they would not tolerate is the sight of stocking-less legs. We disagreed, but unable to openly defy the establishment, the bravest among us skirted the issue (pun intended) by wearing pants even in the middle of summer. And thus, the pantyhose wars began. As with most wars, there were no clear winners. Management was left with an angry, demoralized staff, and the pants wearers, well, we were just hot.



