The Penitent

In the spirit of compromise, I have persuaded Husband to allow me to spend several hours in Budapest's Museum of Fine Art and all I have to do in return is accompany him on pilgrimages to Ferencvaros and Ujpest ! (these are apparently "interesting" football stadiums, for the uninitiated....)

The collection of artwork in the Museum is stupendous, and there are so few people in there that I can stand in front of each painting for long minutes completely undisturbed. Then suddenly I find myself standing in front of El Greco's "Penitent Magdalen" and feel a peculiar sense of unsettling familiarity.

So familiar is this painting, that I am convinced it must have featured prominently in an exhibition called "Treasures from Budapest" which the Royal Academy hosted a couple of years ago. And it is unsettling, because last time I stood in front of it, Line Manager was standing next to me.

"Line Manager?!" I hear you cry. "He against whom you successfully filed a formal complaint for bullying??"

Indeed. The very same...

Back in September 2010, when I first tried to bring the conduct of Line Manager to the attention of Personnel and the Hierarchy, the overall response was discouraging enough to make me give up. So I invited Line Manager to sit down and have a frank and fearless chat, asking him if he could please explain why he found it so hard to treat me civilly.

It was an enlightening discussion, during which Line Manager actually admitted that he found me "a bit of a threat" and apologised. And so impressed was I at the time with his unusual honesty, that I resolved to do my best to be understanding and tolerant of his innate tendency towards sarcasm, rudeness and undermining behaviour.

Knowing of his interest in art, and knowing even more how much he liked to save money, some time later I asked him if he wanted to come along to the "Treasures from Budapest" exhibition as my guest. And unsurprisingly, Line Manager accepted with alacrity !

On the day of our planned outing, ten minutes before we were due to depart, Line Manager unexpectedly suggested that I set off ahead of him and he would meet me at the station. Dutifully, I did as I was told; and it was only as I stood at the station entrance waiting for him, and watched him in the far distance, shiftily checking behind him as he approached, that I realised he did not want anyone to know....

I was suffused with an uneasy sense of embarrassment, as we had both booked the afternoon off and I could see no reason for secrecy. It felt as though we were embarking upon something unpleasantly clandestine and shameful, instead of being two adult colleagues going to see an exhibition of mutual interest. And when I politely and rather hesitantly asked him why we had to be so secretive, Line Manager was unable to give me an answer.

It was months later that I finally understood. Months when Line Manager reverted to his former behaviour, and stood by doing nothing as other colleagues on my team, seemingly resentful of my performance record, began their orchestrated campaign of humiliating social ostracism.

Of course he did not want them to know.
He had already chosen whose side he was on !

As I stand in front of "Penitent Magdalen", reflecting upon this saga, I am very glad of one thing.

After "Treasures from Budapest", I never invited Line Manager to go anywhere with me again.