Caitlin is at the pub when she hears news of the break-in. By the time she drives back up to the Manor, most of the New Hope community is there, one by one paying respects to the silent immigrants, bringing them whiskey or chocolate like some sort of Irish wake. Hans is near the end of his rope. He sits his teddy bear body very close to Lena, almost brushing her cheek with his face. "Will you let me in?" he asks. She just stares at him.
Out in the living room, the same old arguments are running. There are more fights over luggage, over dignity, over a living wage. Kaye starts up about career paths -- in the old country, she says, she lived a much more developed life, and she'd feel a whole lot better if that degree of freedom were opened up. Doug interrupts. "I'm a middle and I have no career path and you don't see me storming the Manor," he says.
Caitlin glimpses New Hope slouching toward chaos and decides to grab control. "What I ask is that we start from where we are right now," she says. "If this is point zero, day one, where do we feel we need to go?"
Kaye works with her. Katherine works with her. Doug and Hans do too. But it's all for naught: just when Lou reenters the dialogue and Fred promises seed capital for entrepreneurial ventures, John quietly descends the back stairs, tells the Manor Three, "I can offer you a better bed and anything you want from the store," and leads them out the service door.
The next morning New Hope is in a free fall, as if some societal linchpin has been yanked out. John and the Manor Three discuss tactical acts over pancakes at nearby Mr. Richard's Kitchen. Kaye launches TheraPies -- slices of cranberry-apple pie, $1, with a side of therapy on a sliding scale -- only to have her baked good stolen. Fred says he's been thinking things over, and he's decided to found Brand New Hope. And Katherine demands an interview for Fred's old job, causing major frustration at the top.
By three o'clock the entire community is exhausted. To blow off steam, Caitlin bombs to Macy's in Hyannis, then drives back to the Manor and begins packing. "I could care less if I were a dogcatcher in society at this point," she says. "We lost our underwear." She descends the stairs, suitcase in hand, and disappears through the Manor door.
But as Caitlin walks down the road, the bell signaling TOOT time rings. In the Inn there's a sign: "The Societal Experience Is Over."
And just like that, New Hope ends.
The next 36 hours consist of analyzing the role play -- first in pairs, then in small groups, then the whole group. The debriefing process is long and thoughtful. Faces show signs of recognition and relief. By design, Oshry stirs clients' emotions. Over coffee they speak of the lab as "the World Series of training programs," and "the most moving experience of my adult life."
Post-camp divorce is not uncommon. Many graduates leave their jobs within one year. Come Friday morning, when people gather their belongings, there's a palpable closeness, an intimacy built on survival.
"How am I going to explain this one to my wife?" Fred asks. Then people fold themselves into their rented cars and head home.
Elizabeth Weil (lweil@interaccess.com) writes on business sociology and culture from Chicago.
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