The two women shook hands and exchanged greetings. “You wouldn’t be the consultant that brought in those new uniforms would you?” the woman asked. My aunt said she was, adding that none of it would have been possible without George’s hard work. It transpired that George was the HR manager for a large cleaning agency, and with Aunt Katinka’s help, he introduced compulsory domestic frocks for all employees. This controversial change wasn’t popular, but it did improve productivity… that being the power or petticoating, Surprisingly, only a handful of their male workforce resigned, the conversation revealed.
“When it comes to the crunch, men tend to do what they’re told… they’re obedient by nature.” my aunt said. “Especially when their options are limited.” she added, glancing at me.
“Well at his age, George hasn’t many options left.” the woman said, glaring at her husband. She adopted an altogether friendlier expression and looked at my aunt and I. She explained that since George lost his job, she’s decided that it’s too late for him to rekindle his career elsewhere (they’re both in their early 50s I guess), and will be better put to use around the house. “George isn’t happy about it.” the woman said, sneering at the balding man beside her. “But what’s good for the goose is good for the gander.” she added.
“Quite.” my aunt agreed. “You’ll soon get used to it.” she said to George, before telling him (and his wife) all about my petticoating regime. After five or ten minutes, my aunt apologised to Mrs Mason for holding her up, told Mrs Baxter that it was very nice to meet her, wished George luck in his new role and bid them goodbye. We headed for the door, but then my aunt stopped and turned, opening her purse. “Actually Mrs Baxter… this is my card… give me a call if you need any advice.”
The buxom woman took the card and read it. “Thank you… I might just do that.” she said, sneering at her husband again. “He’s not being as co-operative as I’d like.” she added.
“Well it’s early days I suppose.” my aunt told her. Turning to the man she said, “Now you make sure you do as you’re told George… obedience is a virtue.”
I felt sorry for George as we finally left the shop. At least I’m accustomed to being petticoated, even if I have had a ten year break from the routine. He’s middle aged and he’s just starting out. Still, if he was responsible for making all his male cleaners wear women’s clothing, I suppose he’s getting his just desserts. “Are you really running out of money?” my aunt asked as we strolled along the high street. “Or was you just trying to get out of buying that knicker & bra set?”
“I’ve got less than £20 left.” I replied. “Which means I’ll be walking to work next week.”
“Oh dear.” My aunt said. “Still, I suppose the exercise will do you good.” she added. “I was going to suggest you buy yourself a nice skirt or a frock.”
“I’m not sure if I want a skirt Auntie… or a frock.” I replied.
“I’m sure you’re just saying that William… you did buy yourself a slip after all, and you can hardly wear your new French knickers with trousers can you?”
I wasn’t planning on buying any of the stuff I’d circled in the catalogue… but there’s no point in arguing that fact. If I’d known then what I know now, I’d have made my choices with a little more care. “I suppose.” I gulped.
“Why don’t we have a look in the charity shops?” she suggested.