It's only May, but the temperature's rising faster than a late-running double-decker on a downhill. Uniform rules say keep the tie on, but sweat says otherwise. This is a tale of shirt-soaked rebellion, heat hallucinations, and the silent hope of a blessed company-wide "tie amnesty."
The Great Tie Rebellion
There’s hot. There’s “cabin fan blowing lukewarm soup at your face” hot. And then there’s May 2025. The kind of heat that melts the grip off your steering wheel and has you checking the seat fabric to make sure you haven’t fused to it.
Now, I love my job. But when the forecast reads like a frying pan’s autobiography and my tie is still choking me like a corporate python, the uniform policy starts to feel a bit... ambitious.
According to the Rulebook of Busland™ (page 47, subsection "Neck-Based Formalities"), ties are to be worn until a date so deep into the calendar, the sun will have already bleached the road markings. But the company, bless their cotton-polyester hearts, usually bend before we boil.
The first signs are always subtle. A manager walks past tie-less, pretending it’s just slipped their mind, while 37 drivers clock it like hawks. A quiet memo appears by the clock-in machine, written in the same tone as a ceasefire agreement:
Due to current temperatures, drivers may forgo ties until further notice.
Cue silent applause and a few dramatic Oscar-worthy performances of drivers "accidentally forgetting" to wear one the day before it was allowed.
This week, though? The heat arrived early, uninvited and unhinged. I saw one lad pour a bottle of water down his shirt like he was re-enacting a boyband video from 2003. Another genuinely tried to clip his tie to the air vent and let it flutter like a windsock. I, myself, had a small existential crisis at the back of the depot when I realised my tie had salt rings from Monday.
It's not just the heat. It's the quiet madness it brings. A woman asked me if I was driving to the beach. I was two stops into the industrial estate. A passenger licked an ice cream so aggressively it should've had a rating. And someone actually thanked me, which is when I knew I was definitely hallucinating.
So here's to May. To the sweltering start of silly season. To the brave souls who went "tie rogue" before the all-clear. To the depot's unspoken solidarity, collars unbuttoned, top lips sweaty, and a mutual understanding that no man or woman should perish for the sake of polyester.
May this heatwave pass quickly. Or at least may someone pass the ice lollies through the driver’s window.
Comments
Post a Comment