Company Culture

 

The crimson and forest houndstooth patterned dress fit neatly around her bosom, cinched in at the waste, it hit 3 inches below her knees, her calves shapely, practical flat black and white shoes tied tightly around her feet. Her hair is short. She gathers her white gloves from her pocket in her dress and stands tall and straight at the front door as she knocks gently. Behind the door she can hear the scuffle of feet and a baby crying in the back ground. 

The door opens with trepidation from the young mother. The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress relaxes her shoulders, raises an eyebrow and with a secret smile puts out her arms to the mother. The young mother takes the embrace which is tight and long, a hug of life shared, a hug that says 'everything is going to be ok, it's gonna be work and you are not alone'. The two women stand there for a solid minute and then move inside. 

The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress looks around the room as the young mother apologizes for the mess. The woman in the dress, "Stop." In an understanding 'been there done that' way, "How are you?" The babies in the back room could be heard, no longer crying but cooing right before they would fall asleep for their mid morning nap. The mother falls into the sofa with a basket of toys by her feet that had been strewed across the floor not moments ago, as the woman in the dress sits in a chair near by. "Sometimes I'm at my wits end, other times I feel like I have it together, normal I guess." The mother smiles a beautiful toothy smile, sits up straight in excitement and says, "I'm gonna peek in on them, I use a mirror under the door so they can't see me and get all restless, they haven't figured it out yet." The mother gets up and walks towards a hallway and heads down it. The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress expertly pulls her white gloves on, stand straight and eyes an area in view of the young mothers favorite seat; there is a picture of the attractive couple, he in military garb and she in an off the shoulder gown of dark blue, her hair piled on her head and gloves donning her own arms. The woman in the dress reaches her white gloved hand, ring finger down ever so slightly and gives the top of the frame a swift sweep. The woman removes her gloves, pockets them and ganders into the kitchen as she sits back down on the chair. 

The young mother returns, "They are sleeping like two little cherubs, and you and I both know they aren't angels." The ladies have a laugh and the woman in the dress says to the mother, "Do you and the kids want to come over tonight? I'm making spaghetti with a tomato sauce, we'll let the babies throw it everywhere and you won't have to worry about a thing." The young mother looking exhausted and delighted at the idea of a night off, and sort of out. "Can we do it early? I find keeping the babies on a tight schedule helps them and me." The woman in the dress, "I'd have it no other way. You know I believe in a good schedule for babies and children, gives them a nice order to move around in."  As she raised her self from the chair and straightened her dress down with her palms, "I'll get out of your hair so you can get a nap yourself maybe. We can visit later. Show up when it works for you." 

...

The husbands were away, it seemed they were always away. For some of the women, marrying into the military was an old hat way of life, for others they had no idea how much of the system actually worked and that they were an important part of it. Good company culture could look like system controls or mandatory parties, systems where explosions were bound to happen so you had controlled valve releases when walking the tight rope of life and death. The old hats, even if they were young, were sometimes looked at by the new breed with contempt. The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress did give thoughts to the new breed; they made problems by sticking themselves like sticks in well run cogs. It was becoming more of a problem as the days and years melted together. 

The life of a military wife was not for the feint of heart and the thought that times would improve on the global scale, well, old hats knew the truth, and some of the new ones learned fast that it was also company culture and not a job that kept the system running. The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress walked down the path with one less worry, the young mother actually did have it together, if she realized it or not. 

...

The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress looked forward to a good report she would be able to send. Being able to send a good report was getting more rare. The ones with older children it was worse, the infection from the outside was getting in, add on to that teenagers being teenagers and constant intrusiveness of strange worlds compounded the weight. 

...

The woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress was an old hat to the military way and living in what others called foreign lands, those she called homey. There was not a time in her life that she had not been around war. He father, brothers, and sisters all had served their part; for the woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress though it was a way of life she wore like a second nature. She knew that the system was no longer working. The years of mis use and misunderstanding that the whisper of the wife in the ear of her husband as they lay thoughtfully embraced, 'hey, check in on so and so, somethings up', or the other way around was a key component. The need to believe in or let go and how to manage those in yourself and others, on the tight rope between life and death was being dismantled from the inside. She shook off the feeling of dread and gathered her thoughts to prepare dinner for a young mother and her 2 little babies while the husband of the young mother was tightening his shoe laces, his gear gathered by his single mattress. He wouldn't be coming back. Neither woman knew but the woman in the crimson and forest houndstooth dress was always ready, she wore an old hat. 

...