“[Red, or blue?]” The warmcuddle asked, holding the first uniform up to Sreshec before switching to the second.

Sreshec gnawed on her tongue as the warmcuddle – one of her many assistants – alternated uniforms, a look of serious concern on his face as he studied her expressions for any indication of which she favored. Morale was incredibly important in any organization, and Sreshec knew this; she also knew, from her time working hand-in-hand with these new sapients, that a furrowed brow and intense stare was them utilizing at least 80% of their concentration and will.

If they stuck their tongue out, then it was a definite 100%.

[Presses-buttons] was definitely using somewhere between 80 to 110% of his concentrative abilities, alternating his gaze between her face, the uniforms, and some middle-distance seen only to him. Sreshec didn’t understand why “her best #2” needed to have a special uniform, or why color-coordination among job types was so important, but she marked it up to a cultural quirk and laid on it. That, or this is direct competition for letting her “super #1 assistant” get the largest hat and jealousy was now running rampant throughout the ranks.

“[Ma’am?]” Warmcuddle [Presses-buttons] asked, holding up both uniforms.

“<Oh, uh. Red, definitely red.>” Sreshec said, and instantly the warmcuddle’s face brightened.

“[The color of blood! Of course! To strike fear in the hearts of our enemies!]” He beamed, gripping the selected uniform to his chest. “[Now to pick out capes!]”

Ice spiked in Sreshec’s veins at the thought of wasting another 3 hours of her day. “<No, no, no need, no capes. We’ve already selected your shoulderpads, knee guards, shoes, socks, bracelets, individual bracelet charms, onesie uniforms and facepaint. I think that’s enough progress on this part of the business for this week.>” Sreshec deflected, resting her hand on [Presses-buttons]’ shoulder. “<We do have other things on the schedule for today, if I recall correctly?>”

“[Right! So you had an all-hands meeting that number one is taking care of, but that was scheduled at 0900. Union hall meeting at 1040 that number 3 took care of – short list of takeaways there, but we’re getting a new vendor for our break room, the current one doesn’t meet our quality standards-]”

“<Don’t we… produce our cafeteria food in-house?>” Sreshec asked, and was met with a dismissive shrug.

“[That’s what the union wants, so they get what they want. Their main feedback was apparently things were too “mouthy” to snack on.]” [Presses-buttons] said, tilting his head from side to side. “[I can see that.]”

“<But what does that even mean?>” Sreshec asked, slithering behind her desk to wake her computer from it’s forced hibernation. “<You use your mouths to eat! Everyone does! What’s wrong with being mouthy?>”

“[It’s… it’s just. Like.]” [Presses-buttons] made some vague hand-gestures that looked like he was eating something, or trying to, before giving an inscrutable expression followed by another little shrug. “[Anyway. Those bids are going out and we’ll figure out a new vendor or set of vendors from there. You had a board meeting at 1230-]”

Sreshec looked up suddenly. “<You didn’t move that? It’s 1400!>”

[Pushes-buttons] smiled sheepishly. “[They said they’d wait when I asked if I could put them on hold.]”

Sreshec keyed in a few quick commands to pull up her ongoing programs and tasks, her workstation immediately responding with the helpful notification that a long-distance interstellar conference call was ongoing in the background, and had been for apparently the past 3 hours. She smoothed out her charcoal black casual-power suit before maximizing the program, immediately beginning a litany of apologies and assurances that such a waste of time wouldn’t happen again.

She looked up at the meeting program indicator, and noticed in mid-deference that the interstellar call was paid collect. Somehow.

“[You just noticed that too?]” Ori’kitily said, a grin wide on his feathers as they splayed out. “[The rest of the team and I have a bit of a betting pool to see who ends up actually getting the bill. Would you like to buy in? 20,000GRC to start.]”

“<I didn’t even know that was a function. Isn’t this a corporate account?>” Sreshec mused, slouching a bit as the concern and stress started to ebb from her body. “<Still, I’m incredibly sorry that everyone’s time has been wasted.>”

“[Not at all.]” Ngrera-of-Grzulf said, waving her hand dismissively. “[The warmcuddle in question just turned off the monitor after a few unsuccessful attempts of putting us on hold.]”

Sreshec looked up over her desk terminal with a flat gaze, [Pushes-buttons] responding with a happy little wave before shutting the door behind him. “<So this entire time the camera’s been on me?>”

“[I would have gone with Blue, honestly.]” Ngrera-of-Grzulf continued, cleaning her claws just offscreen. “[I have to ask, though – I’ve noticed a 200% jump in office ancillary expenses, is that due to wardrobe changes or the banners?]”

Sreshec scratched over her eye as a round of chuckles rolled through the attendees. “<It’s got to be a cultural thing, that’s the only explanation. Morale’s never been higher and our employee feedback scores are off the charts.>”

“[Certainly.]” Nress’press’o interrupted. “[Motivational banners, corporate art and uniforms are all legitimate expenses. My concern is with what seems to be a seven digit RFP for catwalks, pneumatic catapults and foam pads, along with red laser weapons. Very specific about the color, aren’t they?]”

“<I was told it was an eighty’s aesthetic. Speaking of, they’ve also included fog machines and movable backlighting as well.>” Sreshec said, resting her chin in her hand as she stared into the camera. “<It’s been an experience. To cut you off at the pass, no, we’re not going to give them photon ordinance; their PPE already includes small caliber weaponry and safety suits, and that’s enough.>”

“[I’ll say!]” Ori’kitily said, unfolding an ornate accessory fan and fanning himself for additional emphasis. “[Are they always like this? Do you think we can hire them on for multigenerational work?]”

Sreshec grinned widely. “<Oh, you think that costume conversation was something? They do daily chants at the start of every shift.>”

Immediately the conference call erupted into chaos, a dozen voices demanding videos, warmcuddle transfers to their offices, cries of disbelief and laughter. Sreshec smiled as she saw her otherwise composed comrades let the mask slip, and let the energy naturally die down.

“[Wait, wait. Shreshec.]” Bi’ik’reg’i said, fanning his forearm feathers as he waved his hand to gain attention. “[I notice that your background is different. Did you move your office?]”

“<Very observant, [Bi’ik’reg’i]. With all of the construction at our planetside headquarters and with our new employees being, ah, themselves.>” Shreshec said, doing her best to speak between the lines lest she fall afoul of HR. “<I thought it prudent to have an elevated, glass office. It allows me an orbiter’s view of manufacturing processes, our food truck bay, safety concerns->”

“[Clandestine warmuddle activity.]” Ori’kitily said, dryly.

Shreshec smiled, turning away from the camera. “<That doesn’t hurt either. If you increase my funding to allow for a secure broadcast network, I could let you remotely observe your investment in real-time.>”

Nress’press’o laughed, slapping his desk with a free hand. “[What a tactful way to ask for a raise! I love it, funding secured.]”

Shreshec suddenly looked up and arched her back to project a powerful, yet reserved demeanor as her office door opened, unannounced. [Pushes-buttons] poked his head in, hanging onto the doorframe in a in-yet-out kind of entrance to her room and gave her a little wave.

“[I forgot to mention, your 1300 has been on hold too.]” [Pushes-buttons] said with a smile, giving her what she now understood was a “thumbs-up” positive hand gesture before disappearing behind the suddenly-closed door.

“<He didn’t even cancel that? I thought he would’ve moved our second meeting if he put you on hold!>” Shreshec said in disbelief.

“[I’m certain the local government is used to it.]” Bi’ik’reg’i remarked, straightening himself up in his seat as the assembled board of directors began to make themselves more presentable. “[Time moves differently for them, afterall. The warmcuddles, not government workers.]” Bi’ik’reg’i paused for a moment, as if in mid-thought. “[Actually, time may move differently for government workers too. Do we have any data on that? Can we collect data like that?]”

“<Are we ready?>” Shreshec asked, pointedly ignoring the question. Various silver-light indicators clicked off within the picture-in-picture meeting, and with a firm thought Shreshec used her implant to merge the two calls together. Instantly the audience size doubled, corporate opulence mixing with local government standard, the latter group very obviously in the middle of other work.

“[Oh, are we on now?]” an elderly Dorarizin male asked, adjusting the heavy-duty glasses on his muzzle as he looked up from the tablet he was reading. “[You know you have to give new warmcuddles proper training for such technology – their implants aren’t as advanced.]”

“<Duly noted, ah, Secretary.>” Shreshec said, dipping her head politely in deference and partially to stall as she worked on pulling up his name. “<We will endeavor to improve our training moving forward, Secretary [Hunter]. Huh.>”

“[Blunt, isn’t it? But, how often do you get a second naming ceremony?]” Secretary [Hunter] remarked, smiling. “[You may also want to mark that such training should be frequent, and repeated. If anything, it gives you an excuse to do a head count.]”

“[I hope your time on hold was as productive for your team as it was for ours.]” Nress’press’o said with a beaming grin.

“[Well, it was interesting, to say the least.]” Swipressnssren, nee [Persimmon] said, scratching his jaw. “[I understand asking about uniform choices, but is it standard procedure for your company to provide such cumbersome headgear?]”

“[Headgear?]” Ori’kitily asked. “[Are you talking about Sreshec’s assistant, [Pushes-buttons]?”

“[He didn’t come to you with the, uh.]” [Persimmon] mimicked a very tall, very cylindrical hat going offscreen from his crown. “[Headgear is really the only word I have for it. I would call it a hat, but it has to be at least half his height, and he needed to strap it in.]”

“[I hear height is very important to them, from an organizational standpoint.]” Bi’ik’reg’i remarked, flipping through his notes.

“[Speaking of.]” Ii’pii’pi, nee [Bigbird] interrupted, a claw pointing at her screen. “[I noticed from both drone flyovers and your office background that there’s been significant progress in building out your facility. What’s the key to that organizational success?]”

“<I think it’s the uniforms, honestly.>” Shreshec admitted, turning her head to the side to look down from her glass box onto the food manufacturing floor below. “<I let them design their uniforms – of course, not compromising on safety, security or tracking->”

“[Of course.]” [Bigbird] agreed.

“<-But otherwise, I let them have free creative control. They’ve added in morale banners, motivational pledges, they self-organize and self-train, for the most part. I understand government at any position is under a lot more scrutiny, but it may make sense to run a controlled test of greater autonomy among the warmcuddle ranks.>” Shreshec continued. “<I’d be happy to compile our findings in a report and send it over to you in a week or so, HR Manager [Helpful-heart].>”

“[We’d be delighted to read it!]” [Bigbird] said, feathering her headcrest in excitement. “[I can’t tell you how many other governments, both regional and galactic, ask us for best practices. Anything we can share would be a great help.]”

“<I’ll make sure to put it on the to-do list.>” Shreshec said, continuing to look off-screen as one of the bay doors opened. “<Sorry, it seems that one of our food trucks is returning->”

“[No problem at all.]” Secretary [Hunter] said, waving his hand dismissively. “[It’s always good to make sure everyone follows proper procedure.]”

“<Yes…>” Shreshec trailed off as the food truck in question returned. It was her company’s truck, that much she could tell – the brand name was visible from her office, the distinctive and copyrighted color scheme bright, brilliant and welcoming. Save for the smoking engine, the blown out serving window and the raked bullet holes along the passenger’s side, the vehicle returned in exactly the same condition it left in.

“[Ma’am?]” [Persimmon] said, trying to bring Shreshec back to the conference call. “[Is something going on?]”

“<It’s nothing.>” Sreshec paused, the conference call forgotten as she watched the driver pull out three warmcuddles, who as soon as their feet touched the pavement scattered to independent groups of other warmcuddles. The Driver, a Dorarizin, looked up at her office and gave an exaggerated shrug as the floor started to erupt in alternating chants of “HENCH” and “ARCH”. Each group claimed a chant word, and began to whip up the other into a frenzy.

Sreshec frowned. “<Can we postpone this meeting for a few moments? I need to see what’s going on at the floor.>”

“[Oh! Famous last words.]” Secretary [Hunter] said, unwittingly prophetically.