Joan returns to her cubicle in a hurry. Was this really happening? Had people in the office lost their mind?

Surely, "Casual Friday" meant wearing any clothes you wanted, not having nothing on, and yet, both Anderson and Pamela were nude today in the workspace.

And no one was saying anything.

"Think, Joan, what is happening?" she thought to herself.

She didn't mind that they were naked. She knew there were, like, 5 naturist resorts in the neighborhood. While driving around, she could see advertisements or directions to various ones, with silhouettes of unclothed people on them. Nothing ever explicit, but always suggestive about the lack of clothing.

Two of her children's old playdates were naturists. In this area? It was inevitable. Not that they pushed; she just knew from conversation with the parents. What they did in their home didn't concern her at all.

But not in this business setting, surely?

She takes a deep breath. No one is saying anything. This shows her that perhaps she is the one overreacting.

She rolls back. She wasn't supposed to be here today. Furthermore, she comes only from Tuesday to Thursday. She is here now only because her son had a fever yesterday.

Susan knocks at her cubicle. "Joan?" she says, confused. Joan turns around and sees that Susan, too, is completely undressed.

"Hmm, don't you usually have Fridays as working from home?"

"I couldn't make it yesterday."

"Ah, do you want to talk about it?"

Joan thinks. Does she?

Her brain goes into its fast overdrive mode. Some call it a panic attack, but she doesn't lose control. She just thinks fast.

Thinking back, she recalls when she used to work as a simple administrative assistant for a local software company, ANCHOR. They made a commercial reporting plugin for major enterprise software suites such as QuickBooks, SAP, Microsoft NAV, and so on. It was called ANCHOR, but they also had a standalone reporting software called SPECTR.

She didn't work on either, but she did write a few Excel macros and even some Microsoft Access databases to track sales and activations. She needed to make reports for management.

Tim was the licensing manager. He wrote the licensing code, which she never understood, and the business front end, which she did. It's how she could connect to it.

He even modified it to connect to her access database to sync licenses and to let her provision them.

Tim was a nice guy who met a Mexican woman who was trying to immigrate to the USA by pretending she was Cuban. Apparently, it's a thing. Cubans can more easily immigrate here, to Florida, for some weird reason.

Anyway, he fell in love, they got married, and in the process, ICE discovered her real country of origin and deported her. Well, he followed her back to Mexico, resigning in the process.

Joan inherited the system but secretly stayed in contact with him. She had been to his wedding and enjoyed his company. Her husband even played golf with him in Florida and later in Mexico.

Right, she sometimes took her family to visit Tim. Why not? He lived on a sort of farm and offered a cheap price to house and feed them. That even gave him a golf buddy in Joan's husband, and his wife loved Joan's kids.

A German multinational company bought Joan's employer and fired everyone. Including her.

3 days later, she was called back. They had not realized that as part of the purchase of the company, the licensing system, set up as a different business, wasn't included. That legal entity was a holding owned by one of the former owners, and he decided to keep the licensing to himself, even if he sold the right to distribute it.

This meant that they couldn't generate a license for ANCHOR or SPECTR, even if they wanted to.

They apologized to Joan, offered her job back, and assured her that they wouldn't take control of her Access database.

That was over a decade ago, when she had toddlers.

The German firm was later bought by SAP, and she kept working from home. Issuing licenses, upgrading Microsoft Access, and writing reports for a new boss every few months.

SAP spun off her division, now containing many other products, and it became an independent corporation. It changed nothing for her. Not even her immediate boss or responsibilities.

But then, that enterprise was bought by a Canadian multinational. They believed in agile and scrum, and everyone needed to either be a stakeholder, which she wasn't; a developer, which she also wasn't; or a scrum master.

Well, her path was chosen for her, and she took a few scrum master courses, allowing her to help her colleagues work more efficiently.

What most people didn't understand was how little she actually worked.

All the licensing was automated, either by Tim or later by her. She also automated all of her analysis, and most of her tasks were tedious meetings in which she was muted 90% of the time, only speaking to open the meeting, close the meeting, and bring people to attention when talking over each other.

This allowed her to spend more time with her children and even with her husband. He was an agricultural pilot, and most of his work was early in the morning, often being there for their kids in the afternoon after school.

Things were smooth as they entered their teenage years with all the typical issues related to that peculiar development phase, but also some she didn't want to think about today.

It was 4 months ago that everything changed for her.

Her division was once again sold, this time to a US business with an office 7 miles from her home by car but a mile by foot thanks to a pedestrian bridge going over the highway.

Her new employer informed her that she needed to be in the office 3 days per week, Tuesday to Thursday, every week, or her employment would be terminated.

On the plus side, they kept her as licensing manager with her access database as well as scrum master. No raises, but she hadn't gotten any in a long time.

She couldn't resign anyway. To be honest, not having a salary was one thing, but she needed health insurance, and her husband was self-employed and thus without any.

After over 10 years of working from home, the integration could have been difficult or challenging, but she was ready for it.

Her entire career with multinational companies had been to bullshit them into thinking she was actually working 40 hours per day.

When she was asked to choose a cubicle, she picked one against the back wall, where anyone coming to her desk wouldn't see her monitor unless they were well within her field of vision.

This allowed her to "work on reports" for hours, typing at her keyboard whatever she wanted to write that day, despite them being automated. 5 minutes were enough, as the rest was filler.

Instead, she would listen, pay attention, and build her corporate politics abilities. Always staying neutral, always giving the impression that she had power for people to listen to her but not enough that she could actually do anything on her own.

More importantly, she never used her perceived influence other than to help others in a purely positive way. Someone needed a new chair? She could whisper in the right places. It didn't cost anything. Sophie, the young office manager, liked her well enough to get that done.

It was a slow process to get closer to them. After all, they had been working together for years before she was grafted onto them.

She made allies at each company, but these new co-workers? She was still working on them. Trying to see the alliances and who hated whom.

And now, they were nude in the office.

"So, I bet you have a ton of questions," says Susan.

"I am guessing you are naturists and take advantage of casual Friday?" Joan replies, trying to smile and not pose any judgments.

"Pretty much. Yeah. We need to get dressed for video conference calls or pretend the camera isn't working. If you'd like, you can go home, and we'll mark you as present", says Susan.

But something in Susan's tone of voice lit a warning light in Joan's mind. This was an appeasement. It was an attempt to get her to not state them to upper management at the main headquarters on the West Coast.

This was just a small satellite workplace with some servers, an IT division, and some admin folks.

Susan was at the top of the candidates as a potential ally in corporate politics. She couldn't just take the offer and mark herself as an outsider.

She wanted to get closer to Susan, just not like that.

"You know what, I came here to work, Susan. I know we have a meeting planned in an hour. If you'd like, we can do it here, at your workstation, or in a conference room. I have no problem. No need to get dressed. Some of my kid's friends lived at a naturist resort."

"Oh, good. I didn't know that. But you aren't a naturist like us?"

Joan chooses her words carefully.

"I can't say I am. But I had no problem with them being naturists."

"Ah, did you visit them, or did they visit you?"

Joan could see where that line of questioning was going. She wanted to be honest, as it's challenging to lie convincingly, but she didn't want to push Susan and whatever allies she had away.

"They visited us. It was easier for the youngsters, but we never forced them to stay dressed", which is technically true. They didn't undress, being in what they call a "textile home," out of respect.

"That's nice. Ok, I'll leave you to your reports. Let's meet at 9:30 as planned."

Susan left, and Joan took a deep breath.

She got busy for a few minutes and decided to walk to go see Pamela.

This wasn't her actual objective. She knew already that Pamela was a naturist from previous casual conversation. But today, she could see herself clothes-free, with her perky breasts of a 24-year-old and that tiny waist yelling, "I was never pregnant". But mostly, her full-body tan showed what she did on her weekends.

No, Joan shook her head. That was pure envy. This isn't Pamela's fault. She too once had a thin waist and perky breasts. Never a full-body tan, but hey, she never wanted one.

The real objective was to go all the way to the other side of the floor and spot the ratio of textiles versus naturists.

She wouldn't see everyone, but she would notice most of the people she assumed would be working today.

Everyone knew the office days of everyone else. There is an online calendar.

"Well, shit", thought Joan. Everyone she spotted was unclothed. She already knew most of the individuals took Friday off. Is that the reason the naturists keep Friday to themselves?

Or did other textiles just avoid Friday? Did a memo circulate before she was transferred here?

She did see Sophie, the "office manager", which was an empty title. It simply means that she approved the time sheets, held the key to the supply cabinet, and ensured there was enough coffee in the kitchenette. But Sophie was busy helping one of the developers from the main team with his chair.

The conversation with Pamela was short, efficient, and professional, like every other one.

She truly needed her capacity planning summary, but it could have been an email or a chat. Joan didn't need to see her, but she normally still goes to see her on Thursdays for it.

"Is your son okay today?" Pamela asked.

Joan was taken aback. "How did you know it was my son who had a fever and not my daughter?"

She laughed. "I didn't. I had a 50% chance."

"Fair enough. He is much better. It might have been just a small virus going around."

"Must be. Hey, did you hear about Jenna?"

But Joan has no idea what's going on with Jenna. She didn't spot her today and doesn't remember her in the work schedule. She knows that Jenna isn't there on Thursdays, so she thinks that perhaps she is there on Tuesday, Wednesday, and Friday.

"Was she supposed to operate in the office today?"

"No, she's Monday to Wednesday, but I emailed her, and she had an auto-responder that said she was away for the weekend."

"That's odd. Did you check the out-of-office calendar?" Says Joan.

"I did. Nothing. It might just be a sick day", says Pamela.

Joan thanks her, and back at her desk, she texts Jenna and soon gets the capacity study for the new sprint.

She imports the large file based on a template that lists the availability of each developer under Pamela's coordination.

1 for working from home days, 0.80 for in-office days, and 0.5 for sprint start and retrospective days. Multiply by the efficiency of the developer: 1.5 for Steven, 1.2 for Jenna, 0.4 for Pamela, and 0.97 for Edgar.

This gives the impression that Steven is more efficient than Pamela, but life is truly unfair, in Joan's eyes.

Not only is Pamela hot, but she is also one of the best developers in the building. So why is her ratio so low?

First, she is the team coordinator and thus wastes time helping her co-worker, notably with server issues. But second, the number of story points per task isn't fixed. Pamela gives a more accurate estimate for her points, while Jenna tends to exaggerate the number of story points a task needs.

Edgar, however, is the most precise in the company.

What puzzles Joan the most is that the company tolerates 4 metrics for story points, and Pamela's team uses 2 of them.

The first is simple. 1 story point is equal to an estimate of 1 hour of work. The second is equally easy. 1 story point is roughly 1 day of work. The third sits in between: it's half a day.

So, there is a column for conversion. Pamela and Edgar both use hours, and it is kept as is. Jenna uses days, so Joan multiplies her estimate by 8.

The final one is by feeling. Only one developer under Joan uses that metric, and it makes all capacity planning utterly useless.

To his credit, he always completes all of his tasks, but it makes it impossible to track his work.

It's almost 9:30, so she goes to take a second coffee from the vending machine and finds that developer, in front of it, completely naked.

"Arthur", says Joan. He turns around. Arthur is bald and completely shaves his beard and full body too. Not even pubic hair.

"Oh, hey, Joan. Oh, shit. Sorry, I'll get back to my station", he says, rather shy.

"Don't rush for me; I am just grabbing a coffee"

"Oh, well, it's just that I am not comfortable in mixed company. "

"Oh, then I will get out of your hair. Oh, sorry, bad expression"

"Don't worry about it. I am not bald, you know? I shave"

"Why?"

"Oh, my hair went white prematurely, even my chest hair, and I didn't like that."

"Seriously?"

"I think my eyebrows are turning too now."

I looked, and yeah, there are some white hairs in there.

"Sorry, it must not be easy at your age"

"Well, my son is worried; he is starting to have white hair"

"Wait, you have a son?"

"Well, yeah. I never mentioned him?"

"I thought you were, like, 28"

He laughs. "Wow, you flatter me. I am 45"

She looks at him. "Wow, you are in great shape".

He smiles. "Thanks. I think that the shaving and all make me look younger. I'll get back to work. I have a stupid bug I am struggling with."

She jumps into Scrum Master mode. "Need me to find any help?"

He says. "Do you think I could bother Pamela? She is so good with that, and I am interfacing with her system."

Joan thinks.

"I have a reunion with Susan. Maybe after we can do a working session between the three of us after, if you aren't done by then?".

He got the message. Try again on your own, and if you can't, the cavalry will be called.

The appointment with Susan was like any other. The only difference is that she was nude for it. It didn't take longer; it didn't distract her, and she was well-prepared, as Joan expected.

This was for a design for a new setup that Pamela's team would work on. As product owner, Susan needed Joan's input as to when to schedule it.

At some point. She even got inside Joan's personal space so they could both look at her laptop screen. This was often done, but she usually wore clothes.

It was a constructive discussion, and Joan was especially proud that her colleague would get the impression of a productive exchange of ideas when Joan had only questions to contribute. The product owner could have done all of that on her own, but she needed Joan's assurance that things would go well.

What surprised Joan the most was Susan's small towel to sit on, and she realized that Pamela, too, had been sitting on one at her chair.

Sadly, Arthur was waiting for Joan near her office.

"Sorry, I think I am not understanding the API documentation."

"Ok, go to conference room B with your laptop. I'll see if I can get Pamela."

This was the best way. Maybe she would just send an email. Perhaps he would prefer that Joan be absent. But that didn't serve Joan's goals of appearing indispensable.

When Joan found Pamela in a deep coding session with her headphones on, she stayed out of her angle of vision.

Joan wasn't a developer, but she knew enough about code to understand which user story Pamela was working on. Unlike her desk, her monitors were easily visible from the corridor.

Joan looked at Pamela's space and even at her body. The coder didn't feel ashamed of it. Pamela chose to be naked in the workplace. She saw a sundress on a hook usually used for raincoats or light jackets. No bra or underwear, but she notices a small purse and a pair of sandals just pushed under the desk.

When she saw Pamela smile and push to Git, Joan moved into her field of vision.

"I think I just nailed the fix for the 56254!" she says, smiling as she removes her headset.

"Awesome, Susan will be thrilled."

"What can I do for you?" she says, still smiling.

Joan still feels envious of the young woman not yet touched by age. And yet, if she were sitting stripped, Joan knows she would lock her knees and not open them, not revealing an unshaved vulva like Pamela was.

"Arthur has trouble with connecting to your API. Would you have time to help him?"

"Sure. Did you want to help?" says Pamela.

"Of course."

"Can I ask a favor of you, Joan? I know it's a big demand. But like, I feel like no one will say anything. But I am sure a few are whispering"

"I am not undressing."

Pamela is taken aback. "No, that's not... We know you aren't a naturist, and this is just an accident. It's just"

"What?" says Joan, a little stronger than she wanted. "I mean, what favor?" she says, trying to smile.

"Well, we are barefoot, and you are not. I don't know if these are inside shoes, but you might carry little stones or something, and we might step on them."

Joan laughs. "That's it?"

"If you don't mind. It's just", but Joan stops her.

Joan slips her shoes off.

"These are inside shoes, but I get your concern. I usually walk to work, and well, I don't want to dirty the carpet", says Joan.

"How nice of you. We have the carpets cleaned on Thursday night; that way, you know, they're fresh on Friday morning", she says.

"Do you guys undress at the door or in the restroom?"

She laughs. "No, most do at our cubbyholes. But we remove our footwear at the door and carry them. Anderson has an indoor parking space, but there are other businesses, but he does it in the elevator when alone, lucky bastard."

"You don't?"

"Developers don't get underground parking spots", says Pamela.

Joan does. Her own private one.

"Next Friday, park in S1-24, as it's normally free. You aren't just a developer in my eyes."

"Wow, thanks. Whose spot is that?"

"Mine. But I only use it on bad weather days, and I normally don't work on Friday."

"You actually walk from home?" says Pamela.

"I do. I am not far from here. Just over the pedestrian overpass."

"Holy shit, I live at SunVeil. I think we are close to that overpass"

Joan thinks. It's near her home.

"Yeah, it's not far from my place. My son had a friend from there, Carter Smith, I think"

She laughs. "He was my neighbor! I babysat him as a kid. Wow. Small world"

"He relocated?"

"No, I did. I moved out of my parents' home, and I got my own place. Hey, maybe next Wednesday, we could walk to the office together? I certainly need more exercise."

But Joan looks at her. "You don't look like you do."

Pamela laughs. "Thanks. But to maintain this, I do. Conference room C?"

"B"

"Lead the way", says Pamela, standing up, putting her towel on her shoulder, and grabbing both her water bottle by a strap and her laptop without bothering to unhook the USB-C cable. She just lets it unplug, and Joan realizes that it's a magnetic plug.