The sun hasn’t come up yet.
A young woman briefly checks the weather on her mobile phone, notes the unseasonably warm temperatures predicted for the afternoon, and selects a summery dress from her closet. She hurriedly finishes her morning ablutions, fills an aluminum tumbler with coffee, forgets to snag her pre-packed lunch from the refrigerator, and zooms out the door.
At work, she spends four and a half hours sorting through e-mails, crafting new product language, and organizing RFP responses. When she finally decides that it’s time for a bite to eat or a cup of coffee, she grabs her key, purse, and badge, and takes the elevator to the first floor.
It’s a beautiful day. She sees a glorious blue sky beyond the glass double doors: lots of sunshine, obscured only by a fine haze in the distance. But when she passes through the turnstiles and opens the building doors, a strong gust of wind blows her entire dress over her face. Though she always tries to be viewed as a professional, anyone with a window and a pair of eyes can see her snug blue underwear and veiny thighs (which she is particularly ashamed of). The mobile weather report apparently failed to describe the blustery character of the day.
Red faced, head low, she clamps the flimsy material back down over her hips and retreats to her car as fast as her heels will allow.
“Well,” the wind says to anyone who will listen. “Did you see what she was wearing? She was totally asking for it.”