I was in a packed subway car when two large white gentlemen in nice suits started yelling at each other.

"I said, excuse me!" angrily yelled the first man.

"Don't fucking try to knock me over!" answered the second.

I surmised that one of them said "excuse me" to the other, tried to get by him, and then "knocked him over."

Eventually, one of them walked away from the other with this parting shot, "You Wall Street fuck!"

Just as my mind was wrapping around that idea, the other man answered with, "Go design a dick!"

Yes, two strangers on a subway were able to deduce each other's jobs from the suits they wear, specifically stock broker and architect.

I was crestfallen. I wear a suit every day to Wall Street, too, but now I know that other people in suits know that I am not a broker/architect/FBI sharpshooter/mayor's aide. It made me so upset that one of the men ended up standing next to me, and I pulled out my phone's Notepad and typed:

"Difference between Republican realignment from 08-10 and 10-12? Independent backlash?"

I hoped that by writing that, the "designer of dicks" would think I was a political writer for Slate.

In spite of my suit.