A new study in the journal Nature Climate Change finds that most offices set building temperatures based on a formula calculated in the 1960s that uses the metabolic rate of a typical 40-year-old man. The temperature determined by the formula, which did not take into account women because they were such a small portion of the workforce at the time, has been shown to make many women in office buildings feel cold. The study concludes that office buildings could “reduce gender-discriminating bias in thermal comfort” and help combat global warming by setting the thermostat at warmer temperatures.
So what does your office’s Siberian husky Kyle think of this? He’s not happy.
Yo, sup brah. It’s Kyle, the office Siberian Husky. I sit next to Linda down on 3 in accounting. I’m the guy with one brown eye and one blue eye, but you all think it’s sexy. You probably know me because I always get mad props from the boss in the all-hands meetings and I can throw down entire cans of Purina One Beef and Barley Entrees like whaaaaat when I’m capital D-runk at Thursday happy hour.
Anyhow, lately I’ve been hearing that you females are cold in our 70-degree office. And now there’s even some fancy study a couple of humans did to prove why. To this I want to say: You bitches are crazy and you need to regulate your body temperatures. And chill. I’m a dog, so I can use that word.
Everyone keeps saying that this whole office temperature thing is a gender issue. But really, it’s more like a species issue. Yes, I am a cold-weather dog with ancestors from Siberia. Yes, my optimal ambient temperature is negative 70 degrees. Yes, I sleep outside in the winter. What am I doing working for Coca-Cola in Atlanta? They offered me a sweet signing bonus is what, brah. But even though I’m burning up, you don’t hear me bitching and moaning. Until now.
Can I help that I’m hot? No. I. Can. Not. Here’s the problem. My coat is thicker than everyone else’s. What am I supposed to do — shave it off? Um, that’s speciest. Don’t make me call up HR on my dog telephone.
Plus, I come to work each day dressed in a baller suit. Let me do the math for you: pants, jacket, long-sleeved buttoned-up shirt, tie, wool socks, leather shoes. What am I supposed to do — come to work naked? While I personally enjoy going shirtless, I don’t think Linda would be OK with a naked dog hanging around her cube with his dog lipstick dangling out. That lies way outside the bounds of white-collar dressing norms.
What can you do to be warmer? Add layers. Now, I’m not going to tell you ladies what to do, but if you’re cold, then maybe stop dressing a little slutty, amirite? Look, I enjoy a good sniff up the old skirt like any other guy. And I like it when you ladies grab my head, rub it, and stick it in your boobs while telling me how I smell like I just got a bath. But I’d rather have you women cover up that cleavage instead of having to hear you bitch every day.
Need more tips? Get one of those treadmill desks. That way, you’ll keep your body slim and maybe take me for a walk from time to time, while keeping your body temperature high. I walk like 250 miles a day with a sled attached to my back so my body is tight. Or maybe just grow a plush, double coat of dog fur like me.
So come on, brah. Throw me a bone. Don’t be a jabroni. Let’s make the office a little colder. Just like, 140 degrees and—
Wait. Is that a treat in your hand? You want me to finish your PowerPoint presentation and the analysis on the third quarter numbers by tomorrow at 9 a.m.? No problem. Just give me that treat. Fuck yeah. Love those Milk-Bones!