The Subject

Part of the attraction of ESL as a profession is that it makes few demands on its practitioners. One corollary is that while the contracts stipulate a formal dress code, the reality is jeans and a collared shirt.
The Subject made several appearances in my peripheral field of vision in the summer of 2007, always wearing a slightly baggy grey suit, well-ironed shirt, monochrome tie, and large, slim-lensed eighties gold-rimmed glasses. His rear-facing, faintly wavy, Moses-silver shock's retreat, which took the form of two spikes reaching halfway to his pate, had been stopped, probably for good. His weight was at a robust, achieving minimum, and he was forever entering my field of vision in definitive strides, or sometimes lingering in it, measuredly leafing through papers which along with his books he carried in a cardboard accordion inside his ancient briefcase. He had a noble, burnished forehead, a wrenched Roman nose, and a recessive chin. I put his age at a distinguished 48. He seemed too serious.
"That's a nice suit."
He opened his mouth all the way, slowly, and unfurled his tongue, arching it over his lower teeth, his eyes become indignant behind his glasses, and said in a heavy Scottish accent, "Do you believe in your own word?"
I was just being jocular, and sensed an ambush. "Well, yes."
"You signed an employment contract. Did you read it?"
"Well, yes..."
"Wearing a suit is one of the promises you made, you twat", he said triumphantly, tilted his head to one side, and walked out of the room.
After my anger subsided, I vowed to apologize to this man, who had misunderstood me completely.