Dress Down Day

So, D. has been doing some programming work for a company just across the way (Literally in the building next door. If you look in the picture, the office is right in the middle). As part of his work, he’s learning about the … well, the idiosyncrasies of working in Scotland. What are we talking about? Well, here’s a note from the receptionist to give you an idea:

It’s Friday tomorrow – Dress Down Day

As usual, there will be a collecting box at Reception for those who wish to dress down. All donations will go to The Mission to Seafarers*. Thanks for your support.
Best regards
Julie

*Loneliness, danger, separation from loved ones. These are just some of the problems seafarers face. The Mission to Seafarers, a charity and part of the Anglican Church, is there worldwide offering them help and support. More information can be found at www.missiontoseafarers.org

Did you know that ‘Dress Down Friday’ meant that you got to donate to a charity in return for wearing shoddy clothing to work? That’s how it works over here: employees in not just D’s office, but many other places pay in at least £1 for the privilege of wearing their ratty clothes to the office.

And they really ARE ratty clothes. D. is amazed at the torn jeans, sweats and clothes that look slightly the worse for wear. “I’ve mowed the lawn in nicer clothes than that,” D. confided to T. about one outfit he observed.

In the U.S. such a huge emphasis is put on Business Casual that there are even lines of matchy, Garanimals-type clothing designed for the purpose of the all-important “casual Friday.” The meaning of the word ‘casual’ here? Is taken seriously.

As there are more glimpses of sun, the glass building in which D. works — air conditioning free — is becoming rather warm. “Welcome to the oven,” one of his coworkers greeted him the other day, struggling out of his jacket. Every desk on the floor where he works is equipped with its own fan… Quite possibly by May, casual Friday will mean shorts, flip-flops and t-shirts.

D. will be donating his £1 tomorrow, in support of the people for whom he is writing software, and instead of the plaid cotton pants trousers T. suggested, he will be wearing jeans.

We’re looking forward to doing quite a bit of traveling as part of D.’s job, as the company he works for is a shipping firm that both staffs and maintains ships, and they have offices all over the world. The computer programs he writes might require that he go to places like the Ukraine, Latvia, Estonia, the Philippines, Miami, and Portland, all cities with lovely ports and container or cruise ships. We’re hoping that Portland ends up on the list, as it would be wonderful to get back to the West Coast of the United States and only have to pay for one ticket – we’d be traveling as ‘seafarers,’ whatever that means — but we’ll see. D. has been told that the company spends £5 million on travel alone, every year, so sending him to these places is just a drop in the bucket, apparently.

Pretty good for what was just supposed to be a pin-money, part-time job, eh?

And speaking of idiosyncrasies… Frantically looking for white eggs the Friday before Easter, D. went around the corner to the fish market to see if there were duck or goose eggs. Imagine his surprise to see a pile of …Ocean Spray cranberries, fresh. Far though it might be from November and Thanksgiving sauces, he loaded up and brought them home. T. had been lamenting the scarcity of cranberries (because she’s weird and will eat them all year, cooked or raw), and is delighted to keep them in the freezer until she needs them!

When the cold and wind wouldn’t stop, T. decided she wanted Spring anyway, and decided she needed a Popsicle. A popsicle, a juice bar, an ice pop — the name differs depending on where one is from in the U.S., but T. knew what she wanted. Apparently no one else knew. She was directed to …candy. Oddly enough, she saw lollipops called Chupa Chups… chupar being the verb “to suck” in Spanish, so perhaps they are”suckers,” which is what some people (on the East Coast? In the Midwest?) call them. She couldn’t believe there were no juice bars in the UK… and she was right to be disbelieving. They exist. They’re just called… smoothies.

It pays to just wander around in grocery stores.

– D & T

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