My little office was on one side with a view of the main road, but at least it was mine. There must have been nearly 50 men on the floor alone: all male and all Japanese. The noise of the trading was different too: not so loud but very firm and if anything even more arrogant than in New York. Around the outside were the offices of the dozen managers, most of whom had a PA outside. All the PAs were women and all were immaculately dressed. While the men were all ages, the women were between 20 and 40, though it was difficult to estimate as Japanese all looked young to me.I was introduced to everyone but remembered only a few of the names. Soon I had settled down to work, which besides being in Japanese was not that different from back in NYC. In what seemed like a short while Reika came and took me home.During the rest of the week I was groped twice more on the subway. The first time I just managed to hold back the tears. The second time I wasn’t even shocked. And when the man. I then asked Becky what was going on. She stared angrily at Margaret, then asked me sharply, "What is the dress code here?" "There isn't one," I replied. "That should have been explained that to you on your first day here." "Exactly and it was," came Becky's confirmation that her question had been rhetorical. "There is no dress code. The purpose of this place is to design and sell computer software. All of our sales are on-line or through our sales reps. We don't have the public coming to our office for anything. I'm just more comfortable like this. I hate wearing clothes, and figure I can be more productive if I'm not bound by the restrictions of textile." Just then Margaret interjected, just as I was starting to speak, "We can't have you going around looking like some kind of trollop and interfering with everyone else's work." I again, just put my hand up, then started to speak. "I have to partially agree with both of you on this one. You are right, Becky, there is no dress code.
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