Luke sighed. “I’ll take these to Dad.” he said, before heading through the kitchen to the utility room. “Hi Dad.”
“Hello son… I didn’t know you were back. How did it go?” Luke’s father enthused.
“I hated every minute of it.” Luke replied as he put his sister’s laundry hamper on the side. “From the moment they made me wear this to the moment I got home.” he said.
“They’re making porters dress like women now I see.” his father observed.
“Don’t let Mum hear you say that.” Luke said, forcing a smile through his frown. He described how no one told him how to do anything but constantly berated him for doing things wrong. He recounted just how tiresomely boring it was, being stuck in the porters’ waiting room all day long, waiting for a guest to book in or check out. “We’re not allowed to read, there’s no TV or radio… we’re not supposed to talk so there’s nothing to do but tidy our hair, touch up our make up or manicure our nails!” Luke whined before swiftly moving on to door duty. Luke demonstrated how they had to stand; with their feet like this and their hands like that… for two whole hours and the only break they got from their unsteady stance was when they had to open the door for someone. “What a waste of time… all the other doors are automatic apart from those from the vestibule to the foyer.” Luke grumbled.
“Well a job’s a job son.” his dad replied. “Unfortunately these days there’s no such thing as a good job… not if you’re boy anyway.”
“Yeah.” Luke glumly agreed. “I’m beginning to think I should have gone for a cleaning job instead.” he said, describing the room attendant’s knee length frock. “They don’t have to shave their legs or wear make-up!“ he whined.
“Plenty of them do these days son.“ his dad replied.
“Not at the Marrion they don’t.“ Luke said as he looked down at his long hairless legs and stupidly short hemline. “I feel half dressed in this.“
“You are showing an awful lot of leg.” his dad said. “How are you finding those heels?”
“Fine.” Luke honestly replied. “Awkward at first.” he added. “But it is humiliating being perched on high heels, and having to walk all the way home in them! Can you believe that they couriered my own clothes home so I had no choice but to wear this?“ Luke exclaimed. His dad frowned and nodded. “I have to wear it to and from work every day and all I’m allowed is an umbrella if it’s raining… no overcoat!“
“A lot of employers won’t let their staff cover or conceal the uniform these days.“ his dad said.
“I take by staff you mean us males?“ Luke knowingly asked.
His dad nodded. “Thankfully your mother’s spared me the indignity of servile clothing.” he said.
“Doesn’t your tabard count?” Luke asked.
“Not really.” his dad replied, glancing down at the domestic garment he wears over his casual clothing (slacks and a shirt). Luke told of his father what his sister had said, about Mum being too lenient. “Oh she’s always saying that.” his father replied in a jovial yet edgy tone. “She’s going to be one formidable woman when she grows up.” he added. “Think yourself lucky she’s only your sister… imagine being her being your wife!”