Man in Tweed dot Com

Addressing an issue

This post was written by Mike

Of all the challenges in my life that have arisen from becoming a construction worker only one has continued to pester me at least once a week for the past year and a bit: what do I wear to work?

The blatant racism that shows up from time to time I can handle. The obvious homophobia (and occasional hatred for people in the LGBT community) can be ignored. Getting up at 5 a.m. and doing more work before most people start their day is something I actually relish. But clothing? That’s a problem.

For the past five years I worked in a community that required a semi-professional wardrobe. Khakis and collared shirts. No ties but nice shoes. Winter was wonderful because I could wear my sweaters. Before that I was in university for eight years and wore anything I felt like. As a result my wardrobe was based on living a decidedly non-labour oriented lifestyle.

Thus when I joined the world of manual labour I had some issues. For starters I work with fiberglass insulation. That stuff gets itchy. Very itchy. T-shirts? I know plenty of guys who wear them but I just cannot get over having my arms bare. My last job had me covering pipes that had hot water running through them. I’m not really paranoid about burning my arms but I’m damned sure not cavalier about the possibility.

The solution? My on-sale-at-WalMart pumpkin orange long sleeved shirts. I’m mocked every now and then because of the colour but that is not really a problem. Going through at least two a day –or going through the same number of t-shirts worn uncomfortably underneath– because they get soaked in sweat? That’s a problem. Why? Because of my pants.

When I started working in November of 2008 I had three pairs of jeans suitable for working on a construction site. By the end of that month I had one. I am very rough on jeans. To make matters worse they were so old that I ripped the knees out just thinking about climbing a ladder. So I made the switch to a pair of coveralls. I love my coveralls. Putting them on instantly shifts me into work mode. They are durable, they have pockets where I need them. They even look appropriate on the job site. The problem? They increase my overall temperature. That’s great when working in the winter in a non- or quasi-heated site. That’s not so great in the summer or when I’m working on covering the aforementioned pipes filled with hot water.  To make matters worse, when they get wet they stay wet and add at least another five pounds to their overall weight. That gets to be a problem when wearing the orange long-sleeved shirts because the straps dig into my shoulders and make life a pain.

So I am left with a problem. I can wear t-shirts with my coveralls which reduces heat but increases itchiness or wear my slim fabric long sleeves which increase top of the shoulder chafing. I can also wear t-shirts under the long sleeves but this is quite frankly uncomfortable.

In addition to having physical issues with clothing there are some mild mental gymnastics I have to perform. As a member of the Insulator’s union I feel that I am representing them on the jobsite and whenever I see one of our members dressed like a slob it bothers me. Why? For starters I’ve seen drywall tapers wearing ripped sweat pants on a jobsite. Not only are they very unattractive to see (think about that and then add a large overhanging stomach and a short t-shirt to the picture and you’ll wonder how I didn’t get throw up in my mouth) it made them appear to be unprofessional slobs, a fact confirmed by a quick glance at their work.

Whenever I see the “old guys” on the site, regardless of the trade, they are wearing a collared work shirt. They look like professionals. They look like they know what they are doing and act like they are good at what they do. I want to emulate that.

So I am going to try wearing jeans and a collard shirt. I’m hoping that my issues with heat will be lessened and I can look more professional at the same time. With any luck this combination will be the one that works out for me. The last thing I need is yet another set of clothes sitting in a closet.