It could only happen here. (Here being Texas.) Today is officially ‘Go Texan Day’, an annual event where everyone in Texas is wholeheartedly encouraged to ‘be as Texan as possible’. The most immediate impact of this is that everyone is wearing cowboy outfits at work. (Well, perhaps not everyone, but at least half the men on my floor are wearing Stetsons and/or checked shirts.) Now Friday is ‘casual day’ anyway (something I’ve never seen the point in), but when one of your office buddies comes in wearing chaps, and without a hint of irony – or at least a policeman, indian, sailor and leather-clad biker to accompany him - then things have gone a little too far.
The work’s cafateria was similarly embracing the day, serving only – only – barbecue. Because if you don’t like barbecue, you ain’t welcome in Texas! (For the uninitiated, ‘barbecue’ is not simpy any food cooked on a grill outside. It’s more of a style of cooking, which seems to consist of over-cooking the meat in a smoke-filled oven.) Actually, the ‘chef’ did fix me a veggie burger on request, but looked at me as if I’d spat on one of the many Texas flags adorning the walls – much as they probably did to my burger when I was momentarily blinded by the light glinting off a belt-buckle the size of a dinner-plate.
But the fun didn’t stop there. Oh, no sirree! The usually wipe-free plastic tables were laid with tablecloths in Texas colors (blue, red and white – none of those nancy pastels!), there were hay bales in the corner, a booth selling apple cobbler and Blue Bell ice-cream (it’s a Texan thing), and a live country and western band kicking up a noise so loud it’s a surprise the company’s Health and Safety gestapo didn’t pull the plug – although had they done so there would surely have been a riot from the gathered faithful, who were happily tapping their cowboy-boot-clad feet, and doffing their Stetsons to every woman who walked by, with an appreciative “Ma’am…”. YOU’RE AT WORK, PEOPLE! Where’s your sense of decorum?
No, it certainly wouldn’t happen in Britain. There, the mere suggestion of a “Go British Day” would be met with a sharp “Are you taking the piss? I is British already, innit?”, before they punch you in the face for daring to suggest otherwise…
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