This is the reality for thousands of Salt Lake County employees, including many who provide services for children and the elderly. Suddenly, many are hiding name badges in public and some lie about where they work.

And they resent it.

"We used to be proud," one employee said last week, smoking a cigarette using his right hand while his left stroked a laminated county lapel card that had been turned upside down. "Do you see this?"

Politicians are used to scandal, even prepared for it. But this spring's county misbehavior cuts deeper because it implicates the core of government - its rank and file.

Over the past month, employee morale plummeted as scandals unfurled on their turf. Absconding with college-tuition advances, tweaking timecards and flubbing financial controls have forced the Mayor's Office to launch concurrent investigations. Some have become criminal probes.

Skittishness has clouded the county. And the climate appears chronic.

How bad is it?

During dozens of encounters at the County Government Center in Salt Lake City over the course of a week, not a single employee would utter his or her name for publication. Still, many had plenty to say.

"My neighbors ask me, 'What the hell's going on there?' " said a man we'll call Mike, while taking a break with co-workers. "There's tension throughout the county. You can feel it."

Nearby, a woman blurted out that she and her colleagues now say they work for KOA - referring to the private campground - not the county. "It's sort of a running joke," she said.

Kevin Schofield, an employee-union representative, worries that the work force bears the brunt of too many jokes.

A man we'll call Dan agreed, sounding as earnest as the Wranglers he was wearing.

"I work hard," he said. "I really don't want my name anywhere in or around what's going on." While problems need to be vetted, Dan said, "The public just doesn't recognize what a hard-working, dedicated group 99.9 percent of the employees are."

Mayor Peter Corroon does. Last month, he hosted an employee-appreciation party in the government complex atrium that, despite the free food, seemed subdued.

Still, Corroon says his biggest surprise since taking office is the size - and sincerity - of the county's 3,000-plus volunteers. That dedication, he insists, is shared by the majority of daily workers.

Even so, the scandals have taken a toll, concedes Deputy Mayor Karen Suzuki-Okabe.

"When it's in the press, it can't help but affect them," she said, insisting most employees are innocent bystanders who take pride in their work. "As administrators, we're concerned they all get painted over with black paint."

Even executives are not immune. Last week, Public Works Director John Patterson endured a public ribbing while at lunch at Sugarhouse Barbeque. His crime: wearing a polo shirt with the county logo.

"This guy was throwing it at me: 'So, do you take extra cash? Do you drive a fancy car?' " said Patterson, who has worked for the county fewer than four months. "I'm amazed at the stuff I get when I'm out in public."

Midlevel employees across departments say they are getting accustomed to the kidding and insist they take it in stride. But the atmosphere became too much for one county planner, who recently bolted for a city planning post elsewhere in the Salt Lake Valley.

On the legislative side, council aide Julie Peck says doubts continue to percolate among constituents. Many who call are skeptical, she says, questioning whether they can trust the county.

"One guy said, 'I just don't want this to become an issue 10 years from now,' " Peck said.

Not everyone is defensive, however. Finishing lunch in the employee cafeteria, a staffer for the District Attorney's Office says people should be held accountable.

"It makes me sick that because of them, the whole outside looks at us," the woman said. "I'm glad all this stuff's come out."

Others wonder how long the spotlight will stay on.

As Mike regaled his co-workers about his adventures in Wendover, his mood turned serious when Dan broached the question.

"Hopefully, it will run its course," said Dan, who was quickly seconded by Mike.

"And soon."

Regardless, things have forever changed for a Russian immigrant entering her sixth year of work at the government center.

"Five years ago, when I told people I worked for the county, nobody knew what that was," the woman said over lunch. "Now, everybody knows."

djensen@sltrib.com