I suited up for corporate battle the other day.
It was a Friday high noon appointment with lawyers and accountants scheduled for our big conference room. I was the host.
I placed chilled water bottles and complimentary note pads at each seat. I designated sides to sit on. I gave the opposition the seats facing the view outside. A distraction perhaps?
I consulted with our team members on the points we would make, the strategy we would take.
It was quite the orchestration.
Early that morning I faced my closet with guarded anticipation. I have more blue shirts than any other in my accumulated collection. A blue shirt is a safer bet for those, like me, who are human magnets going around all day catching lint, grease and random spaghetti sauce. The bright spanking white long sleeve shirt is the power shirt, the shirt for the bravest of the brave willing to risk copy toner and magic marker and the exploding root beer soda in the cubicle one over.
I went for broke. I chose a white shirt with French sleeves. I picked a gray tie with a dull silver tie tack. For cuff links I only have three to chose from and I picked the flashy ones, big white ones with blue ships pictured in the middle.
“Not those clunky things,” my wife said as she noted my choice of cuff links.
“But I get compliments on them whenever I wear them,” I replied.
“People comment on them,” she explained, “because they can’t miss them. They appear to be five pounds each. They wonder how you can raise your arms so freely.”
I went with small boring silver cuff links. My arms practically floated to the ceiling, they were that free.
I suspect folks have been adding adornments to their attire since the beginning of time. I suppose fig leaves were the first official earthly “attire.” I don’t think it required a talking snake to suggest that a little color might be nice to weave into what would have otherwise been pretty basic green duds.
Years ago I was the guardian of an eccentric artist, a talented woman who had made her livelihood creating beautiful artwork in a number of mediums. She painted and sculpted and constructed miniatures that were fascinating and entertaining.
In her nursing home days this woman went in the opposite direction of her art. She wanted all things plain. She took a distinct dislike to all wardrobe accessories – hats, scarves, jewelry and the like. She would point at the offending button or clasp or whatnot and shout “adornment” to register the fashion infraction. The problem was, if you got close enough to her she would not stop at the shout. She would pinch you.
One fateful day I needed a signature from this lady. We had been sitting in her room and talking a bit and so I thought my attire had passed muster. When I shifted into position to put the document within her signing reach, well the glint of my tie tack must have been too much.
“Adornment,” she yelled as my right ear lobe got the pinch of a lifetime.
I think of this woman whenever I see folks who cross the line with too much jewelry or wardrobe embellishment. I also think of her whenever my ear lobes throb.
I am pleased to report that the Friday power meeting went well. And I can report that my drab cuff links did not require any compliments, that my white shirt did not get sullied and that those on the other side of the table were not overly distracted by the view out the window. But since appearances matter, it would have been nice if someone on our team had noted one slight detail.
Our attorney had nicked himself shaving that morning. Like many of us, he stuck a piece of toilet paper on the nick. He arrived at the meeting late, took a seat to my side, and none of us noticed the toilet paper, until the conclusion of the meeting.
I should have pinched him.