Dress code

After that initial visit, Brightman kept coming back to her office every few days. They discussed software development, as far as she could remember. He was eager to hook up this new local area network he had devised himself. He told her it would improve efficiency. He showed her demos.

Caitlin’s own efficiency began suffering about then. She wasn’t getting nearly as much done as usual. Her mind felt soft and unfocused. She had difficulty making decisions. She wondered if the pressure of the job was getting to her. One day Brightman came into her office when she was poring over financial projections. He showed her another demo about progress on the new office network. It was impressive, she had to admit. She was glad then that she had decided not to fire him.

The discussion was technical and it left her feeling drained. She didn’t feel up to attacking the business plan again. Brightman suggested she take some time off. “Go ahead, cut out early for the afternoon,” he said. “You deserve a break. The office will get along for a few hours without you. Go do some shopping or something.”

She had just looked at him dully. She never took time off. She barely found time to pick up her drycleaning. Nevertheless, a short break from the office did sound appealing. Maybe a bit of fresh air would clear her head.

“Well, uhm… yes, that’s a good idea. Everybody has my cell phone number. Call me if anything comes up.”

“Of course,” Brightman said, grinning. He had this smarmy smile that bothered her.

For the first time in months, she left the office while it was still light outside. She went shopping. She bought a couple of things. It was relaxing. Much the same thing happened a few days later. Brightman and a bunch of the tech guys had just installed the new office network. They were running diagnostic programs that interfered with her computer. They seemed very cheerful about it. Caitlin was irritated. She told them bluntly to hurry it up: “I have a lot of work to do today. I need this machine working.”

“Look, Caitlin,” Brightman said patiently, “this set-up is probably going to take another couple of hours. We can’t get any benefit out of the network if it isn’t configured properly. Why don’t you just take a break for a while? Go see a movie or something. We’ll have the system in place by the time you get back.” Caitlin realized later she should have told them to install the network after business hours, when it wouldn’t interfere with anybody. For some reason it hadn’t occurred to her at the time. But by then the second feature was starting and she couldn’t be bothered going back. Besides, her fingers were all buttery from the popcorn.

Brightman dropped by her office almost every day after that, tinkering with the network and offering advice on whatever issues were on Caitlin’s desk. She had to go a little lighter on dressing down the staff when Brightman was in the room.

Still, she was grateful to have him around. She was having unexpected difficulty keeping up with her work. She seemed to have lost her edge. She got confused easily. Brightman was willing to take some of the routine stuff and keep the clients off her back.

Besides, she needed him to help with that infernal network system. It kept locking her out at the most inconvenient times. Then it would refuse to let her back in. It seemed to work splendidly for everyone else.

When Caitlin’s frustration level rose too high, Brightman’s advice was always the same: relax; take a break; leave the office for a while. To her own surprise, Caitlin found herself doing so. She went shopping. She took in afternoon movies. She fed the pigeons in the park. She always felt better afterward.

One morning Caitlin arrived at work to find she had no telephone messages. “I was expecting several important calls while I was out yesterday,” she barked at Erin, her then secretary. “Why is there nothing on my voicemail?” Her secretary, like the rest of the staff, was terrified of her. If this one lasted three months she would set a record. “Oh, uhm, I’m sorry,” the girl sputtered. “I forwarded them to Mr. Brightman. It was his idea. He’s in his office if you want to talk to him.”

Caitlin left the cowering girl and marched over to Brightman’s office. Brightman was sitting behind his desk, tinkering with the computer. He didn’t look up. “Oscar!” she shouted. “What’s the matter with you! Erin tells me you took my client calls yesterday. Don’t you ever –”

“Caitlin,” the man interrupted her blandly, “I thought it was what you would want. You got several calls from our backers, looking for progress reports. You were out. I didn’t think it would look good to be unresponsive so I fielded the calls myself.”

She thought about that. It did seem like he had followed the most logical course. “Well, all right,” she conceded, “I suppose it is better to take the calls. But don’t you go–”

“You’re not following the office dress code,” Brightman commented, still studying the computer.

“What?”

“The office dress code. The code you drew up, Caitlin. No pants for female employees, remember?”

Caitlin was incensed. How dare he take such an attitude with her! And what was this dress code he was blathering about?

“Oscar have you lost your mind? There is no –”

He wheeled the monitor of his computer around to face her. It displayed a broadcast E-mail message. It was from her, to all employees. The message was detailed, and phrased the way she would have phrased it. The title was “New Office Dress Regulations.”

Caitlin was nonplussed. When had she sent that? Her E-mail file was password-protected, so it must have come from her. Now that she thought about it, the whole office had been dressing a lot more sharply lately.

“You’re not exactly setting an example for the staff. All the other girls have to wear skirts and heels, but not you. Doesn’t seem very fair.”

Caitlin looked down at herself. She was wearing a functional black pantsuit with a grey sweater, black oxfords. “Oscar, I–” she fumbled for words.

“Why don’t you just nip home and change,” the programmer suggested. “Before anybody notices.”

“Well, I don’t know–”

“Go ahead. We’ll cover for you while you’re gone.”

Caitlin got back in her BMW and went home. When she got back a bit later, wearing a black skirt and uncomfortable black heels, Brightman was sitting at her desk, talking on the telephone with a client. He didn’t pass the telephone over to her. She waited until he was finished.

“Looks like we can move forward on Phase II of that new interface project,” said Brightman, rising from her chair. “Hey, you look great. I’ll be in the tech lab if you need me.”

“Thank you,” Caitlin replied coldly, glaring at him. She sat down at her desk. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

Ten minutes later the network locked her out and she had to call him back in again.