Chapter Six - Dress Code Cultivation: But Let’s Get More Tacky

CHAPTER SIX

Dress Code Cultivation: But Let’s Get More Tacky

IF I WERE evil, I wouldn’t need uniforms.
I’d let the uniform wear them.

Every cult needs a costume. Not a robe. Not a mask.
Just something that makes you part of the tribe.

If I were evil, I’d pick something simple:
Polos. Khakis. Clipboards.

No logos necessary. Just the suggestion of professionalism.
Just enough polish to blend in at a doorstep, not enough to raise suspicion.

But here’s the trick: it wouldn’t be about looking good.
It’d be about looking the same.

Because sameness breeds submission.
When everyone’s wearing tan pants, no one’s asking who’s in charge.

If I were evil, I’d get real tacky with it—
Not just in color, but in tone.

I’d issue “Alta Red.” Or “Grindstone Gray.”
I’d tell you you’re part of something big—something elite.
Something with a look.

And you’d wear it proudly.
Not because you like it. But because it’s your team.
Your brothers. Your family.

“It’s not just sales. It’s a culture.”

Culture. That word again.

If I were evil, I’d use fashion as behavioral control.
You’d be told to tuck it in.
To wear a belt.
To clean your shoes.
To look sharp.
Because “appearance is the first impression.”

But really, I’m just training obedience.
You follow my rules now, or you don’t knock at all.

And when it’s 92 degrees, humid as hell, and your shirt is sticking to your back—
You’ll still knock.

Because this is what we wear.

If I were evil, I’d make you sweat in a matching shirt,
just to remind you you’re not here for comfort.

And if you speak up?

I’d laugh and say,

“If you don’t like the uniform, you’re not gonna like the work.”

No job title. No contract.
Just a polo that says, “Yes, sir.”

Because if I can control your clothes,
I’m already halfway to controlling your mind.