Uniforms

The workplace of Bruck is a rather unique place which houses a mixture of civilians and military personnel from all branches. I’m relatively new to the job, and was initially taken aback by the preponderance of fellow employees donning military uniforms. I’ve come to learn that active military people everywhere (with certain duty-related exceptions) have to wear a uniform when they’re on the job. They do have some latitude, e.g., they can wear their dress uniform or BDUs (battle dress, i.e., camo), and there are some other options that I see mainly on the female soldiers and sailors, such as skirts and sweaters. So that explains it, but it doesn’t make it any less silly-looking, especially the BDUs. I mean, if you really want to stand out in an office environment, wear your desert digitals! For real camouflage, they should make office BDUs that look like beige cubicle walls and copy machines.

The next thing I noticed is that there’s nothing “uniform” about uniforms. The basic items are pretty similar, i.e., shirts, slacks, etc. but beyond that, there’s much diversity. Obviously, different services have different colors and various and sundry accoutrements, i.e., the Navy is blue and the Army is either green or brown (your faithful editor is fairly colorblind), and in the Air Force you’ve got some representation of wings somewhere on you, but even within a service there’s a wide range of accessorization.

Now I’m sure that the different accessories have a lot of meaning, particularly to those who are wearing them and who undoubtedly worked hard for them, but let me just put it out there, and I think I speak for the entire civilian human race, that I have no earthly idea what they all mean. To me it all looks like pretty pedestrian outfits with a bunch of shiny gold and silver junk hanging off of them. I’m not immune to learning mind you, and I’m sure it will be useful in the future to know the difference between a Colonel and a Staff Sergeant, but for now, I can just look for certain cues and clues to guide me in what level of esteem I should assign to a uniform. Here’s what I’ve managed to figure out so far:

The more ribbons the better. Ribbons are what appear on the left chest above the pocket. I think they’re related to medals earned, & promotions are proportional to medals.

The more metal hanging off of them the better. This is true among Goths and minimum-wage employees as well, except the soldiers wear the metal on their shirts rather than their faces.

The older the better – age doesn’t guarantee promotions, but in general, you have to get promoted or get out, so by process of elimination, the older soldiers are the higher-ranking ones.

I did get a little education from a co-worker who told me that captains have gold leafs and lieutenant colonels have silver ones. I’m looking forward to being able to use that info.

It gets a little tougher with the BDUs. They really do all look alike. Instead of metal accessories they have patches with colored thread, but you have to look pretty closely to differentiate. Of course this makes sense, since Ahmed gets more paradise points for taking out a Colonel than a Corporal, so it’s in the Colonel’s best interest to make him at least as likely to plant some lead in the latter.

And for that matter, the full dress uniforms are completely inscrutable. These are the uniforms that you see in ceremonies or Michael Jackson videos, i.e., the really ostentatious ones with ropes, swords, whips, velvet, and lots of bling. I have no basis whatsoever for differentiating among them, but it’s of little import anyway as the only people I see in them are giving tours.

Another thing that strikes me a little funny is the names on the uniform. Nothing odd about this of course, they’ve been doing it for decades if not centuries, it’s just that there they are, for everybody to see, even in public when they’re commuting. Just sort of seems like a violation of privacy to me. Anyway, a couple weeks ago I saw a woman on the subway in uniform. She appeared to be of eastern European descent, sort of a gloomy exotic Transylvanian look about her, and her name patch read, “Kafka.” And just this morning I saw a woman in Air Force camos (I knew it was Air Force bcs the Army has gone to digital camos and the Air Force is still using conventional ones). Her name was “US Air Force.” How weird is that? I wonder if she changed her name when she enlisted, or if her parents made the commitment for her long before that…?

So anyway, it occurs to me, why should the military people have all the fun with uniforms? Civilians, sure, we get to wear whatever we want within reason, and we do, but frankly it’s a little dull, plus it doesn’t mean much. Some of the basic rules apply, like younger single people like to wear expensive mating apparel that have a short style window, and richer, older people tend to gravitate toward conservative fashions with tailored shirts, monogrammed cuffs, expensive watches, etc., but who’s to say they didn’t inherit a bale of cash, or they’re not metromen still living with mom, or they don’t rob banks for that matter? And who’s to say that the unassuming old guy carrying a sack lunch and wearing sensible shoes and beige dockers worn to a dull shine isn’t actually a double-dipping retired general who’s just indulging his inner cheapskate?

Basically you see civilians walking down the hall and you can’t instantly identify their grade level, and while that’s not necessarily a problem, let’s fix it anyway. But first, here’s a rough breakdown of the government pay levels with their approximate equivalent in private industry:

SES 1 thru 4 (manager equivalent thru executive VP or group VP equivalent)

GS 15 (high-level supervisor of degreed professionals)

GS 14 (low-level supervisor of degreed professionals or highest rank of non-managerial professionals)

GS 13 (low-level supervisor, high-level professional)

GS 12 (mid-level professional)

GS 10-11 (low to mid-level professional)

GS 7-9 (entry- to low-level professional)

What I’d like to do here is recommend simple cues which shouldn’t impede the employee’s ability to express him/herself, but should give an informed observer a means of instantly assessing rank from a short distance. I would also like to make my recommendations upwardly cumulative, i.e., the higher-level employee can wear any of the items allowed at the lower level, but not vice-versa.

SES 4: Gold pocket watch chain

SES 3: Silver pocket watch chain

SES 2: Cufflinks

SES 1: Monogrammed shirts – cuffs, collar, or chest pocket

GS 15: Gold tietack

GS 14: Silver tietack

GS 13: White belt.

GS 12: White shoes and belt

GS 10-11: White shoes, belt, and tie

GS 7-9: Mullet

Courtesy

The largest leg of Bruck’s commute between Manassas, VA and Washington DC consists of a 50-minute ride on the “VRE” (Virginia Railway Express), which is a commuter train system that connects the far-flung northern VA suburbs to the city. I rather enjoy the VRE most days – I can read, do crosswords, nap, etc. Pretty much anything you want to do, within reason, you can do on the train, except maybe sing or break wind. However, one person’s definition of reasonable may differ from another’s, so there are guidelines published by the VRE in a pamphlet entitled, “Courtesy.”

No smoking. Keep your feet off the seats. Okay so far. Keep cell phone conversations quiet and to a minimum. Quiet is generally understood, but “minimum” is subject to a wide range of interpretation. Pick up your trash. No problem. Keep the vacant seats clear of your personal belongings. Okay, Bruck is a little guilty here of violating this one, trying to discourage potential seat partners. I could add a few items such as eating loudly or really whooping it up, but I’m happy to leave “Courtesy” intact.

Here’s Bruck’s favorite section: “Personal Grooming.” It is excerpted here for your reading pleasure (sentence numbers added by yours truly):

[1] Many of us are often in a hurry in the morning, and everyone wants to save a few minutes whenever they can. [2] You can accomplish a lot of things as you commute to work on the VRE, but please don’t make personal grooming one of them. [3] Styling your hair, clipping your nails, applying makeup and fingernail polish or brushing your teeth annoys other passengers and should be done at home. [4] Do everyone a favor and groom yourself before you board the train or after you detrain.

Pretty concise and to-the-point, but just for fun, let’s indulge in a little deconstruction.

[1] The first sentence is blithely trying to impute the best of all possible intentions to the violators, and further justify them by indicating that these are shared by a presumed multitude of others. That is, even though you’re a total jerk, we’re going to expressly assume that you’re the minimum jerk, and although you’re one of the few who acts on them, your jerk impulses are shared by many of those around you.

[2] The first part of the sentence is further justification, implying that the act of publicly tweezing your unibrow is an “accomplishment.” But the second part does politely come right out and say don’t do it.

[3] Just in case the hapless reader is unaware of what constitutes grooming, here is a list of activities that fall into that category. But the law of unintended consequences is a cruel taskmaster and a mendacious handmaiden. The problem is that it is a partial list, and those whose lack of basic social skills render them disposed to conduct personal hygiene on the train, might also be inclined to read the list as exhaustive, thereby strengthening their mandate for engaging in any activity not listed, such as shaving, nasal trimming, applying antifungal cream, etc. The indication that the activities should be done at home is also a bit presumptuous. I can think of several people who never apply makeup or nail polish, and therefore the proscription to do these activities at home is misleading at best.

[4] A little snarky, wouldn’t you say? And look at the last clause, “…after you detrain.” Every story tells a picture. Mine is of a guy who once again wakes up on the train tracks, not remembering the last four hours of the previous evening’s bender, much less knowing where he is now or how he got there. But he does see a train coming, and, … it’s a VRE! And it’s coming to a stop! He must be somewhere near a station. If he can just get up off the cinders and on the train, he can figure out where he is, and maybe start to pull himself together enough to make it into work and hopefully avoid getting written up one more time… He struggles to his feet, reels up onto the platform, and just barely careens onto the train as the doors are closing. He finds a seat, and starts to comb insects and gravel out of his hair and brush flecks of dried blood and vomit from his sleeves, when the conductor walks up, slowly shaking his head, and hands him a copy of “Courtesy,” saying, “No grooming, sir, please wait till you detrain.”