Exec Dir of nonprofit wildlife care facility, so I set the non-policy, same for men and women, every day 24/7/365. My only demand is closed-toe shoes, and clothes cannot be torn or threadbare. Pants of any kind, including jeans, are fine. Shorts in the summer are fine. We have logo-imprinted T-shirts and polo shirts in our gift shop, and we provide some for the staff. Cover-ups are at their discretion. And we wear plastic name tags. That way people know us from the visitors.
I dress pretty much to this standard most of the time, as my duties around the campus include patient care, physical plant maintenance, and administrative tasks in my office. But when I have meetings with dignitaries or major supporters or others out in the community, I usually go with the stereotypical khaki “critter guy” outfits probably originating with Marlin Perkins. No tie, thanks. And I’ve thought perhaps I should dress this way more often, since our facility is open to the public and you never know who may drop in.
One day I came to work dressed for a morning meeting. Had hardly gotten out of my car when in came a state wildlife officer behind me. “What can I do for you?” I asked. “Got a hit by car Sandhill Crane, thought you might want the carcass” he replied. This isn’t really so strange. We save, and distribute to institutions all over the country, such specimens for scientific research. He jumped into the bed of his pickup truck and took the lid off a box. Out jumped a very much alive, 4 foot tall, grey plumaged bird with a wing fracture and (as it turned out) a concussion that made him think it was dead. It flapped the wing, covering me with a spray of bright avian blood. Then it made a break for the open tailgate, and I grabbed it. It hooked a talon into the middle of my shirt and ripped a 10 inch tear in it, also running a furrow across my chest. I wrestled the bird under control and carried it into the clinic. Anesthesia made it tractable. The shirt went in the trash and I never got the blood out of the slacks. My chest healed ;).
Another time I was foolish enough to dress up, and sat safe (I thought) in my office. I heard one of my staff shouting from the yard. Staff shouting in the yard is a very, very bad thing so I ran outside. “Rattlesnake, rattlesnake!” she was yelling. I ran inside, grabbed a snake hook and a snake box, and ran back outside. By this time the reptile had crawled into a clump of saw palmetto. Now rattlers are natives, and they have every right to live with us, especially out in our countryside setting. But in the front quadrangle, where staff, volunteers and the public frequent, rattlers are not acceptable. So I dived into the bushes to find it. Eventually I located 5 feet of venomous beauty, captured it, then took it almost a mile “out back” and released it. Of course, my new shirt and slacks were now sliced into tatters by the sawtooth edges of the palmetto petioles. Another total loss.
Then there was the time I had to jump in the lake for the escaping alligator. And… Well, you get the idea. Now I am back to jeans and a T-shirt, with a change of clothes in the office closet.