My first job was working for a Montessori school. The school was set up in the parish hall of a church, and  my job was to go in after school on Friday afternoon and put away all of the school’s furniture so the church could use the space over the weekend. I worked unsupervised and had to make sure I was there every Friday.

So, how did I find my way to this particular position? It was simple: it came to me. I was in the Boy Scouts and the director of the Montessori school dropped by and spoke with the Scoutmaster one night. He said he was looking for someone who was reliable, trustworthy, and hardworking. And he thought that the Scouts could provide a pool of young men who fit that description.

Kudos to him for having that idea! He was right. Not only did he score a good employee (which I say without a trace of modesty because it’s true), he didn’t have to spend long hours on a job search. He didn’t have to pour through resumes or pay craigslist for a posting. He simply had a good idea on where to find someone and made the corresponding connection. I don’t think it gets much easier than that.

At this point, I think readers may have noticed that I am a firm believer in the idea that an employee should be judged by the quality of his work rather than his ability to dress sharply. For those wondering why this topic is so near and dear to my heart, I would like to present this comparison:

This is me my sophomore year of college:

This is me just minutes before a job interview last week:

Same guy! Same work ethic! Same writing skills! Same people skills!  Same devastating inability to smile normally for a picture!

One of the retaurants I worked for had a system that worked well for getting employees to want to wear their uniform. Well, part of it.

For the most part, the uniform code was simple and bland. Wear a collared shirt, tuck it in, wear a belt, blah blah blah. In short, dress was business casual. This always made for a great time trying to explain the mayonaise stains on my slacks. “I swear I’m not a messy eater! I just work at a restaurant.”

The only thing the uniform seemed to represent was what our bosses felt our customers expected. And while attempting to meet customer expectations is an admirable goal, I often felt that our customers had more important expectations for us to meet. The thought process went something like this: “These guys buying sandwiches want me to tuck in my shirt? See, that’s funny, because every time they talk to me, they’re more concerned about whether or not they have tomatoes on their sandwiches. So, I’ll focus on the tomatoes for now and when everyone is happy with their tomatoes, then I’ll worry about tucking in my shirt.”

Overall, I’m a pretty coooperative guy, so despite my misgivings, I would grudgingly tuck in my shirt. Other employees were less likely to. I’d say the company was batting around .400 on getting employees to tuck in their shirts. And why? If you ask me, it’s because tucking in your shirt doesn’t affect the taste of a sandwich and the employees know it. Try it if you don’t believe me.

There was, however, a different area of the company’s dress code where my guess is they were batting close to .900 on compliance. 

At this restaurant there were about six different areas of the restaurant in which we could work. One could make sandwiches, or be a cashier, or a barista, and so on. Once an associate was trained in any of these areas, he would receive a small lapel pin to show that he had completed that training. It was a small piece of recognition that said “Good job.” It was a little bit of bling to show that the company knew you could do your job.

Personally, I thought of the pins as another part of my uniform to lose - I had enough trouble not losing my hat. But to my surprise, many of the young employees loved the pins. They were the only parts of the associate uniform that we had to be sure to keep on order because they were being requested by the associates. This was a part of the uniform that young employees were asking for.

Now, as I’ve said before, if you can make your uniform something that employees want to wear, you’re going to win the war over dress code before it starts. In this case, the little pat on the back that the pin represented was enough to make Gen Whys want to wear their uniforms. How cool is that?

A close friend of mine is serving in the 1st Infantry Division. He’s currently deployed to Afghanistan.

Naturally, before he left, his brother, myself, and another friend wanted to drop in and visit him. So, we spent most of the weekend in Austin, Texas (he was stationed at Ft. Hood), making sure that we squeezed every last bit of enjoyment out of this weekend.

Now, it’s important to note that while my friend is serving his nation, he isn’t Mr. Adherence to Social Norms. He has big tattoos. He likes bar fights. When we worked at a restaurant together, he maintained that working in the service industry will inevitably turn you into a phony.

Imagine my surprise, then, when, sitting in his barracks room at Ft. Hood after a weekend of partying, he began to deliver to us a lesson in the proper placement of the patch that represents his unit. Each soldier, he explained, wears on his left sleeve the patch of the unit in which he is currently serving. After deploying to a combat area, the soldier may then wear his unit patch on his right arm.

As he had not yet been deployed, my friend had only his Big Red 1 patch on his left sleeve. His brother suggested putting the patch on his right arm to see how it looked. (The patches are all Velcro on his uniform, so it’s about a two second procedure.) My friend refused with a zeal I didn’t expect. He said, “Good men have died who didn’t get to do that. There’s no chance I’ll do that.”

The lesson here for employers is that aspects of uniforms that represent more than an arbitrary decision from on high that employees must dress a certain way will lead to employees who are more willing to wear their uniforms correctly. I don’t doubt that the nature of service in the Army contributed to my friend’s passion for proper wear of the uniform. But don’t think that civilian employers need to create a paramilitary environment to create uniforms with meaning. In fact, they don’t even need to create the meaning themselves.

To bring it back to my previous post, meaning is one of the parts of Tokyo Joe’s uniform code that is so appealing to me. In this case, employees who are wearing piercings or tattoos that often have a significant meaning to them are allowed to show them instead of being forced to hide them. In Joe’s uniform, they’re being allowed to share with others a meaning they have created .

The Army creates the meaning of the uniform and expects soldiers to understand this and take pride in the message transmitted as a result of this meaning. Tokyo Joe’s allows employees to create their own meaning and share that with people. In both cases, you can find young people who normally resist fashion requirements wearing their uniforms correctly.

For my first installment on uniforms I want to look at what I consider a company with a great dress code: Colorado-based restaurant chain Tokyo Joe’s.

For those who have never been, Joe’s is a quick-casual Japanese restaurant. However, if you go there expecting a quiet tea-room experience, you’re going to be surprised. They play loud music, restaurants have an edgy sense decor, and the staff are anything but geishas. Rather, they tend to look very punk rock. You know: Piercings. Tattoos. Eye-liner. The whole 9 yards. Their dress code doesn’t seem to discourage this in the least. In fact, the slogan to be found on their hiring website is “The Few. The Proud. The Pierced.”

From what I can see (I’ve never worked there), the dress code basically requires employees to wear black clothes that are suitable for restaurant work. Cashiers wear their own clothes, and sometimes wear company t-shirts. Cooks wear provided jackets so they don’t screw up their clothes. There is even a special uniform for the sushi chef.

This is a great dress code because it lets employees be who they are. While everyone must wear black, there is still some give room in what can be worn. This allows employees to dress to their preference, whether it’s for comfort or style. Maybe even more importantly, no one seems to be required to cover up tattoos or piercings. To me (I’ll come clean here and mention that I have neither tattoos or piercings), this says two things about this company:

1. They’re cool about letting you be who you are. On some level, they recognize that my entire life isn’t built around work and that my wardrobe shouldn’t be either. Whether it’s requiring them to buy a new wardrobe of clothes they would never wear otherwise or forcing them to go to lengths to cover up tattoos they’re proud of, employers making these requests are asking employees to give away a part of who they are to be a part of the company. Joe’s code does the exact opposite. And that has a great appeal.

2. Perhaps of equal importance, this tells employees that their work product is what’s important. If you spend enough time dealing with employees in regards to their appearances, they will begin to wonder if showing up dressed properly is more important than actually doing their jobs. At Joe’s, I think they have a great plan because now the entire focus and energy of the company can be put into performing better.

Now, as an added bonus, the company has managed to build a great brand by allowing, and embracing, the punk rock look.

So, overall, I think this is a great dress code: It’s one I would willingly abide and it helps the company, both in terms of focus and brand.

In my next post, I’m going to look at the entirely opposite side of the uniform spectrum and discuss some of the most effective aspects of the uniforms of a very different organization: The United States Army.

So, Halloween has come and gone.

The candy bowl by your front door is half full and you’re only slightly begrudging the fact that you’ll have to finish off what remains. Your pumpkins are probably already getting a little wilted-looking.  And your costumes are put away until next year. Unless, of course, you have to “dress for success.”

I’ve always thought of dressing for work as dressing in a costume. One day, I’m dressed up to play sandwich maker. The next day, I’m dressed up to play office worker. Either way, I’m not dressed up as TJ.

As someone who typically dresses for comfort, this bothered me because I don’t find it particularly comfortable to tuck in my shirt, wear a belt, shave, or pull off any of the other looks that are generally referred to as “maintaining a professional appearance.” I also know other folks my age who feel some chafing from their uniform codes because they like to dress in a particular fashion that is frowned upon by management.

Whatever the reason, I know that dress codes and appearances are important both to employers and employees. I have also observed that they are a regular source of tension between Gen Whys and their bosses. So, in the next few posts, I’m going to look at some uniform codes and tell you what I see. 

I’m going to try to flesh out a recurring theme I see in codes seem to generate less conflict. I’m going to tell you about a few of the less important details I’ve seen managers waste time on. Oh, and I promise I won’t complain about shaving any more than I have to.

As always, I welcome your comments and questions.

Last post on e-mail here for a while. I promise.

I hate sending an e-mail and not getting a prompt response.

If my e-mail can leave my computer at the speed of light (186,000 miles per second), that means that barring any interference from a slow server, it can be in your hands almost immediately after I have clicked “Send.”

So, when I have to wait for a while to hear back from you, I start to get antsy. Especially if it’s important. Especially especially if it’s a really simple question.

I know you’re busy, but you should know that I’m not used to waiting. I don’t remember a time when letters took time to get places. My older brother told me that when overnight mail came out it was a revolution. My father and I were recently discussing what a difference fax machines made when they first emerged on the scene. Both strike me as slow ways to communicate.

Now, I don’t point this out to wage some personal war on the advances of days past. I say because bosses need to understand that I need quick feedback. Some people have tagged my generation the “Instant Gratification Generation” (see this article). And they’re right. So, when working with me or one of my cohorts who requires instant gratification, you need to recognize this and work with it.

Here are three easy ways to speed up those response times:

1. Check your e-mail often. If my e-mail is loitering in your inbox, you cannot respond to it.

2. Acknowledge that you’ve gotten it. If it’s a complex question, let me know you’re working on it. If it’s an easy question, answer it.

3. Set an away message if you’re going to be out. I’ll be spared the awkward question of wondering if it’s polite to send more e-mails or calling. You’ll be spared my next thirteen e-mails and four voice-mails.

A couple more posts on e-mail here before I move on to another subject.

When you send an e-mail, do not put whole lines of text in all capital letters. This is considered the electronic equivalent of yelling, and it is generally considered rude in tech-savvy circles. When I look at a message from someone who has typed this way, I generally find myself predisoposed to thinking that the writer is uncouth. At best.

In face-to-face contacts, if you want to emphasize something, you use rhetorical and verbal devices like repitition, carefully chosen words, and intonation. You don’t simply walk into a meeting and start yelling at the top of your lungs just because something is important.

In e-mail, it’s the same story. SO DO NOT DO THIS! YOUR YOUNG EMPLOYEES WILL THINK YOU ARE BEING RUDE.  Sorry. I couldn’t resist the opportunity to be ironic. But I am deadly serious about not capitalizing like that.

I prefer e-mail to most forms of communication for anything important or work-related.

First, it’s fast. In about 15 seconds, someone in Hong Kong can click and I’ll have her message. That’s pretty cool. And I’ve got to be honest with you: I hate waiting for information. Whether it’s feedback, an assignment, or just confirmation that you’ve received my last e-mail, I don’t want to wait. I mean, if I can find out something as esoteric the atomic mass of cobalt(58.9 amu) and link you to it, all within thirty seconds, why should I be kept waiting for you to tell me what you want?

Second, it’s hard to lose e-mails, and I can access them anywhere with an Internet connection. If you’ve ever misplaced a piece of paper, you’ll know why I like to save important documents in my inbox. I don’t take good notes, so when I’m looking at a piece of paper on which I have scrawled the cryptic words “snorkel camera 14!” I begin to wonder what we discussed on the phone.

Now, I’m not trying to sell you on e-mail. For the most part, everyone has bought-in to using e-mail. I am, however, trying to let you see why I prefer an e-mail to a phone call or a fax. (I think of the fax machine like the telegraph. It was great piece of machinery at the time, but now there should be one at the Smithsonian and a bunch in the dump.)

Being that e-mail is newer technology than hand writing by a good two or three thousand years, it’s had a few opportunities to develop its own sense of what is right and wrong.

For instance, brevity is the soul of wit in an e-mail. In the restaurant industry I had a boss who would send out long-winded e-mails detailing a problem (not enough clean tables, for instance), its roots, why this was viewed as a problem, several admonitions against the current bad practice, and finally a prescription for new behaviors. Sometimes I wonder if he was just straining for extra words to seem particularly informed, or if he was too ingrained in the attitude of snail mail that requires you to get your 42 cents worth from a letter.

All the while, he could have summed it up in six words: “I want to see clean tables.” That’s all he had to say. Bang. Done. Tables will be cleaned. It’s not rude - it’s efficient. It’s not trite - it’s e-mail. Remember: E-mail is supposed to be fast, so if you type up the type of training manual Tolstoy would, you’re fighting against the form and function of this mode of communication.

Worse yet, this particular supervisor would send seemingly dozens of these e-mails each week. This caused two problems:

1. We were too busy reading all of his e-mails to go clean tables.
2. Eventually we began to wonder if he did anything other than write e-mails and decided to stop reading his e-mails all together.

If you clutter my inbox, I will spend time reading what you send. At first. Then, as I catch on to the fact that you’re not saying anything, I’ll stop reading. When that e-mail that says you need something yesterday isn’t opened until next week, you’ll be quite chagrined and I’ll be blaming you. And that is a communication problem.

I recently applied for a new job. I got the posting for it in my e-mail.

Every single person I know who has attended a university has received an e-mail address from the school. At the university I attended, these addresses were given to the departments in which the students studied. Thus, employers could provide notices of jobs to be sent out to the students via e-mail. As a journalism student, I frequently received (and still receive) job postings for newspapers, public relations firms, advertising jobs, and the like.

Talk about easy access to an excellent candidate pool.

First, the e-mail is going to people who are (at least in theory) interested in the field they are studying. A posting for an architecture job can be sent to a number of students studying architecture.

Second, the e-mail is going to be read by people who are interested in the position. Take it from a guy who has opened maybe a half dozen of the hundreds of these e-mails he’s received: I’m pretty darn interested in the ones I open. If I’m getting in touch with you, it means something really hit home.

Third, the e-mail makes the reader feel wanted. This is a targeted want-ad that arrived in the hands of someone who knows he was targeted. That the posting was even given to the university tells students “This employer wants a student.” The student then says, “HEY! I’m a student. They want me.” It feels good to be wanted. Especially by someone who wants to pay you.

Last, the e-mail is likely going into a group of people who will be looking for jobs. University students are not known for having high-paying jobs (or any jobs at all, for that matter). When it comes time to leave campus and enter the real world, having a list of places to go delivered directly to you can be a comforting way to start.

So, drop by your local university. E-mail some far away universities. Get on these lists and watch qualified young employees start applying as you communicate with them this way.