I was boarding an Alaska Airlines flight from Los Angeles to Portland a few weeks ago, not paying much attention, having just struck up a conversation with the passenger behind me in line. As I handed my boarding pass to the ticket agent, she fixed me with an alarmed look and said sharply: "But this says you're going to Mexico."

My heart did a double-beat. "No, I'm sure it doesn't," I stammered, looking around for the homeland security SWAT team I was sure was about to swoop in. Then I caught the twinkle in her eye. "Only joking," she laughed, as she casually scanned my boarding pass and steered me — my heart still racing — onto the plane.

Of all the workers who are not supposed to make jokes on the job, airport workers definitely top the list. For one thing, any customer who's sharp enough to shoot back a quick one-liner ("No, I only sent my bags to Mexico. I'm going to Portland.") is liable to spend the next 24 hours in a friendly chat with the FBI.

But another thing about the incident startled me: This woman was having some fun on the job. And that seems ever less common. In fact, I would be almost as surprised to see someone at an auto dealership, law firm or government office be the butt of an amusing jest as I was to find myself poked fun at by that Alaska Airlines agent.

Are we losing our sense of humor in the American workplace? My impression over more than two decades as a business journalist is that there's been a steady rise in caution, politeness and seriousness on the job.

Some of that's the result of increased sensitivity to slurs — sexual, racial, anti-gay, whatever. Thirty years ago, my father, a top executive at a Fortune 500 company, had to listen to — and laugh at — a lot of off-color jokes just to fit in. Some of them were about Jews, and by laughing with the crowd he probably sealed quite a few deals. But it hurt.

I saw the decline of lightheartedness at a radio news organization where I worked for several years. There had been a tradition of making up fake news stories: to play at the annual Christmas party, and to air on April Fools' Day. The stories satirized top management, on-air personalities, political figures, even listeners, allowing us to poke fun and blow off steam at the same time. But I wrote one spoof that left a dear colleague in tears; another, satisfyingly stinging, probably cost me a promotion. And the April Fools' stories — well, they were viewed as too risky by the political-correctness brigade in top management and went by the wayside as well.

I certainly don't think we should bring back offensive jokes at work. Still, I worry that as we've learned not to make jokes at the expense of customers and co-workers — with an army of HR professionals to keep us on the straight and narrow — we've also lost our sense of humor about our jobs.

Work is stressful, and it's hard not to poke fun at a boneheaded co-worker, bullheaded boss or muddleheaded marketing campaign from time to time. It's probably even healthy to do so. We all just have to be careful now not to do it at the airport — or the water cooler, the weekly staff meeting, the reception desk, the company holiday party...

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