The bad tie competition

Every now and again I like to go a little bit C.R.A.Z.Y. and introduce some hilarious David Brent-esque type humour and jokes into our little open plan office.

As a tribute to Fashion Week, (which I just can’t stop writing about!),
it was decided an awful tie competition needed to take place.

It was a controversial choice of theme, far more so than the previous theme which was “dress like a galah – it’s this obscure Australian bird that is pink and grey”. The long title of that theme was necessary so that everybody would know how to coordinate their outfits.

“Worst Tie” was pretty self-explanatory. The jostling for position and psyche-out tactics started as soon as the competition was announced. One French guy immediately sent everyone an email saying “all hshirt-and-tie-copyis competition ties were at his parents’ house in rural France, and he would thus be using one of his training ties.”

As soon as I got home I checked my drawer. I had slim pickings. Contrary to popular opinion, and my even my own, my ties just weren’t particularly garish. I decided I would only be able to win in terms of bad shirt-tie combination. As had been previously noted in the office, I have absolutely no eye for matching ties.

Marie thought she spotted a winning combination: an fluoro orange tie, with a bright pink shirt. “Actually I bought that combination together,” I explained, without elaborating that I often also wore that very same match to work.

I settled on my wedding tie – pink, brown and gold diagonal stripes – worn with my a blue checquered lumberjack shirt. These French people would learn a thing or two about fashion, I reasoned!

The next morning I almost got up earlier than usual to iron my shirt. 9am arrived and I was still in bed, so I decided instead I would turn up late.

But when I finally did arrive, I had been so utterly trumped, that you could have given me a red toupee and my own reality TV series.

The French guy, even on his training tie, was clearly better than me. He wore bright green, diagonal stripes that were so vivid I can’t even remember what other colours were on the tie. He was also wearing his swamp green suit that he usually wears, and maybe that added to the effect, even if it technically wasn’t part of the competition.

Then the American guy, who rarely even wears a shirt, was wearing a tie with a Nutcracker motif. I always knew I had good reason to fear something called the Nutcracker.

The French and the American guy took out joint first place, in, ahem, a tie – it was even another French guy who came up with that joke. It just goes to show the calibre of the wordsmiths in my office.

The French guy however, conceded defeat, and suggested we all shout the American lunch at Madame Shawn’s…

As he then explained, her restaurant was, after, the neighbourhood’s “worst Thai”.

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