The packaging lay strewn on the floor, cardboard, string, tissue paper thrown to one side. Carol did a little spin in her office and chuckled to herself. A good fit, made to her measurements of course, super light weight too, so not heavy at all, some new fangled material but the colour was a faint purple, her favourite. Looking over her shoulder to check the door was shut, she turned around doing another little twirl before dipping back into the box and pulling out the matching boots and gloves. A warm glow seeped through her as she pulled on each one.
A tap at the door pulled her back. Joanne, her PA, head round the door, was reminding her of her next meeting, one of the last before the Christmas break. Carol took one last item from the box and, sliding it under her arm, grabbed her notes and headed out into the corridor. The whole thing made her giggle, but all she showed as she walked along was a relaxed smile. Then a wave of concern swept over her, she shouldn’t feel like this, today was the executive meeting and normally, no matter how much preparation she did, she felt uneasy. Not that she was alone in this, but no one talked about it, no one dared. George her boss was tough, very tough and as the sales slipped, almost a bully. He wouldn’t describe it as that, ‘demanding’ he called it, but Carol had felt his wrath on more than one occasion and it wasn’t pleasant or necessary. Worse, it had now begun to eat at her self-confidence so that she exposed her normal, sharp, incisive approach less and less nowadays.
Five minutes early for the meeting, Carol took a moment to slip into the toilets next to the board room. So, here is the big test, she thought as she made final adjustments to her outfit and pulled on the headgear. The helmet fitted snugly to her head and immediately she felt the warm lining, purple coloured of course, softly against her skin. She raised her hands and pulled the visor down and it clicked softly shut. The world disappeared, she straight away felt protected and yet she could hear well, much sharper than normal, even the sounds of people chatting next door as they arrived for the meeting. Carol picked up her folder from the top of the wash basin and glanced at herself in the mirror. A fully uniformed knight looked back, complete with magnificent armour, glowing in the low bathroom light. She nodded, he nodded back mirroring her movements. The light glinted on his suit filling the whole room with a powerful light. Could it be her? Surely not, this was a six foot plus, broad chested person, resplendent in his strength and confidence, a battle strong confident warrior. They appraised each other over the washbasin, then with a final nod they set off.
Carol walked into the board room and took her usual place beside the company secretary, one of the good guys. Nothing was different. Certainly grumpy George was grumpy, worse really as he’d just had sight of this week’s sales figures and was taking this out on John the operations director. Not a good start. Others were shuffling their papers, looking away, avoiding the obvious conflict at the head of the table. Carol inside her suit felt calm and relaxed, sliding into an observer role, certainly none of the pain spewing out from the gap between George and John affected her. What a relief the armour works she thought, settling comfortably in her chair, enjoying her filter coffee.
John turned his head down the table, a look of desperation on his red strained face, beads of sweat were running down his checks. All eyes were on papers, coffee cups, blackberries, lap tops and not one met his eye in return. Carol didn’t want to either. It was 8.30, the armour was untested, and she didn’t have the strength to take George on, thought she never would now. She felt her hands on her visor, yes it was shut, yes she was safe, she could ride out the storm her feelings protected.
John’s head dropped as no support came from the team. Inside Carol and inside her purple suit of armour a different feeling began to rise, a feeling of anger, indignant anger and a sense of love and care for others in the team and for the business. She tried to push these down, knowing the result would be conflict. Growing up, her mother had always said she had strong views and strong values even as a young kid and said these would both bring her endless joy and plenty of heart ache. Oh dear, her heart was certainly aching here. It wasn’t her battle she tried to say, stay out, John’s a tough cookie he’ll handle it. Even as she thought it she stood up and her armour began to glow and sparkle. Eyes turned to her, a look of surprise from many. She pushed back her chair and with one nimble leap, jumped onto the old boardroom table. Her helmet smashed against the hanging chandelier wafting years of dust out from the light across the room.
The knight towered above the men and women in the room. Cyril, her mate the company secretary, looked across the table and smiled. What he saw was a beautiful pair of crafted steel boots, planted there amongst the coffee cups, glasses and water bottles. He glanced up further to the intricate panels and details of the armour, right up to the helmet gently tapping against the still swinging chandelier. His eyes ran back down and stopped at the sword, not drawn yet but a gloved hand on the hilt, ready for action. With a touch of a affection, he reached out and placed his hand on the metal foot. The boot responded with a slight up turn of the pointed toe and then a tap back down.
George in full flight now saw none of this, his tongue lashing on full volume at John, but he did notice the tremor of the table as Carol walked down it towards him. Team members pulled their papers and coffees hastily out of the way. Geoff from logistics, was a little slow and accidently Carol stood on his phone sending bits flying across the surface. George did though notice the dust and later he would vaguely wonder about where it came from, but what he really noticed and felt there and then, was the large steel, pointy purple boot which placed itself against his chest from belly button to throat, pressing him back and downwards into his fine black leather chair.
The knight stood in front of George looking down, one foot placed squarely on the Minutes of the last meeting, the other planted firmly on the CEO’s chest. George’s eyes grew wider and then even wider, as he watched the jewel encrusted sword being removed from its scabbard. His throat was now dry and not from the two cups of early morning coffee, but from the fear welling up inside of him. He tried to summon up the spittle to speak. He couldn’t, his lips moved, they formed the words yet nothing appeared. Instead it was his turn to sweat and he did. Rivers of it ran down his face, pouring through his hair and soaking down into his collar and creating a tide line across his shirt.
Carol inside her armour looked at him through her visor. The sword slid back into its scabbard. She felt powerful, strong and yet strangely humble, the knight had delivered his message. No more was needed. She turned and walked back down the table, dropped gently to the floor, strode from the room, leaving the door open. Everyone observed her down the length of the executive corridor as she strode toward the lift. She waved to the office staff, who watched wide eyed and grabbed on to each other, or their desks, in both fear and delight.
The festive holiday for Cyril was a time for smiling and remembering old adventures, both defeats and victories. John mostly slept but came back in January refreshed. George had some nightmares, reflected a great deal, got confused about the dust, but was gentle and loving with his children and grandchildren on Christmas day. For Carol, the world was simply a brighter place, full of new opportunity and promise, waiting to be lived to her own values. And in her wardrobe hung a beautiful purple suit of armour, shimmering in the half light, ready and waiting.