Some years ago (okay, many years ago) I worked as a maintenance engineer for a large manufacturing company. This was in the olden days, before AutoCAD or computer assisted drafting programs. The engineering drawings that I prepared back then were made with pencils on vellum, using T-squares and triangles. How primitive is that? I asked my supervisor one day where I had to go to get my pencil drawings reproduced. He told me to take the drawings to the engineering center in a building several miles away. “The print room is on the second floor,” he said. “They can make copies for you there.”
Now, even though I was a maintenance engineer and frequently had to work with the people in the maintenance department out in the shop, there were days that I wore a suit and tie to work. I wore the suit because I liked wearing suits. I also wore it because it created immense consternation in those around me. Some were quite disturbed by that geeky engineer running around in a suit. They wanted to know exactly why I would wear a suit to work. I had a relatively low level job with no supervisory responsibilities. I told them that the suit made me look like something instead of looking like a bum. I wore the suit, I told them, because it made me look good. Well, yes, you have to remember that was back in those days when I was still svelte and hadn’t taken on those disgusting “Before” looks that you see so often on those weight loss commercials. After all, I had read the book, Dress for Success, and I had absorbed its lessons well. Those around me thought that was complete nonsense, however.
I took my drawing to the engineering center and found the print room on the second floor, just like my supervisor had said. There were about six or seven people standing there waiting to get drawings. I joined the line.
There was a man standing behind me and he had all the earmarks of a typical engineer. He wore a white shirt with a rolled up sleeves. He had a pocket protector with about eight or nine ballpoint pens in it. He had a Number Two Drafting Pencil up on his right ear. In his right hand he held a drawing, and he stood there in line behind me and waited for his turn to talk to the print room woman.
There was a man standing behind me and he had all the earmarks of a typical engineer. He wore a white shirt with a rolled up sleeves. He had a pocket protector with about eight or nine ballpoint pens in it. He had a Number Two Drafting Pencil up on his right ear. In his right hand he held a drawing, and he stood there in line behind me and waited for his turn to talk to the print room woman.
I also waited in line until it was my turn to talk to the woman. And when she asked me what I wanted, I handed her my vellum drawing, and told her I wanted six copies of it. She looked surprised. Then she asked me when I wanted them and I told her right now. She said, “Yes sir.” She turned around and walked over and made the copies for me.
The engineer behind me asked if I was “new around here.” I had only been with the company for a couple of weeks and so I told him I was. He said he had never seen me before. “Do you work in this building.” I told him I worked at Plant Six. “Are you a vice president or something at that plant?” I told him I was a maintenance engineer. He threw his vellum drawing on the floor, anger suddenly flashing across his face. “A maintenance engineer? You got to be kidding me!”
He told me the that no one could get more than three copies of a drawing without getting the Vice President of Engineering’s approval. No one, he added, could get copies of a drawing on the same day. He pointed at the little slips in a box on the counter. “You have to fill out one of those slips and turn it in with your drawing and wait just like the rest of us,” he said. “Who the hell are you, getting six copies of a drawing on the same day?”
The woman came back with my copies and handed them to me and asked, “Is there anything else, Sir?” I told her that there wasn’t anything else that I needed and I thanked her.
The engineer behind me stood there, shaking his head. “He ain’t shit,” he said to the woman. “He’s nothing. He’s just a maintenance engineer.” The woman smiled.
The engineer behind me asked if I was “new around here.” I had only been with the company for a couple of weeks and so I told him I was. He said he had never seen me before. “Do you work in this building.” I told him I worked at Plant Six. “Are you a vice president or something at that plant?” I told him I was a maintenance engineer. He threw his vellum drawing on the floor, anger suddenly flashing across his face. “A maintenance engineer? You got to be kidding me!”
He told me the that no one could get more than three copies of a drawing without getting the Vice President of Engineering’s approval. No one, he added, could get copies of a drawing on the same day. He pointed at the little slips in a box on the counter. “You have to fill out one of those slips and turn it in with your drawing and wait just like the rest of us,” he said. “Who the hell are you, getting six copies of a drawing on the same day?”
The woman came back with my copies and handed them to me and asked, “Is there anything else, Sir?” I told her that there wasn’t anything else that I needed and I thanked her.
The engineer behind me stood there, shaking his head. “He ain’t shit,” he said to the woman. “He’s nothing. He’s just a maintenance engineer.” The woman smiled.
I turned to the engineer and said, “It’s all in how you present yourself. Wear a suit tomorrow and you’ll get all the copies you want. And you’ll probably get them on the same day, too.”
Yeah. I never liked Dress-Down Days. I’m more of a Dress-Up Day sort of person.
By the way, how do you like the suit?
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