League Match

Oh deary me. Now I really don't want to be an unforgiving, resentful person. I really don't. I spent much of my weekend hearing messages which were directed to me from various sources and they are all pretty much the same - the ones I have been listening to for years:

- Don't hold onto resentment (only hurts yourself)

- Do unto others as you would have done unto you

- Let Go and Let God

- Keep your own side of the street clean.

I sit and feel the truth of the messages, and vow to be a better person, and even try very VERY hard to say prayers for The Witches of both sexes who have done their level best to make my working life a misery.

Alas, at 11.30 this morning my serene and equable view of the world starts to wear off a weeny bit.

I am due to have a management meeting with my Line Manager. This is not our usual pattern - even before things went severely awry last August, he never rang me, never asked how I was getting on, and never offered me any support. But now New Boss has descended and with his shiny New Broom has instituted a new system of monthly one-to-one meetings.

!!! The old guard within the department cannot know what has hit them.

Alas, Line Manager and I can't have straightforward one-to-ones because we are required (for reasons I will expand upon later in this blog) to have meetings in the presence of A. N. Other. The role of Mr Other is currently being played by - New Boss!

I arrive in the department in good time and kill time by responding to a few emails. Suddenly Line Manager appears at my side and says 'we think it might be nice if we all went out for a coffee for this meeting'.

Hang on. Overwhelming sense of deja vu. This all happened last Monday did it not? The "confidential" meeting held in a coffee shop, screaming babies, clattering crockery, the hissing rumblings of the Gaggia....

I do my "mmmmmmmmmm....?" thing, which on this occasion Line Manager takes as assent.

When he disappears into his office to (presumably) pick up his wallet - my God, he might even be considering buying the coffees! - I experience a sudden moment of clarity and tap meekly on the door of New Boss's office.

Me: "I understand we are holding this first management meeting away from your office?"

New Boss: "Well we thought it would be nice"

Me: (unhelpful silence)

New Boss; "but if you don't want to...."

Me: "I'm afraid I don't think Costa Coffee represents a suitable environment. In fact I think it is very inappropriate".

Inappropriate. This is the single most valuable word every Stepford Employee should master. Non-confrontational, non-aggressive, almost fluffy; it nevertheless seems to have the power to halt public sector workers of all grades abruptly in their tracks. "Inappropriate" is quietly suggestive of discussions with one's union, possible litigation, and names in the newspapers.

New Boss halts predictably, but in a grumpy manner. He mutters something about not having had enough coffee that morning. I see a Katharine Ross opportunity looming !

"If you like," I say sweetly, "I would be very happy to go and get you one".....

- New Boss gets his own coffee.

- The meeting starts ten minutes later than planned.

- It is held in his office

Managers 0

Stepford Employee 1

Bolting Horses...

After a year and a half of being socially ostracised, the invitations have started coming thick and fast! Suggestions for amusing office outings are now being sent out to the whole department, with encouraging exhortations added. Cheery little postscripts like "all welcome!" and "the more the merrier!".

It would appear that there has been some kind of intervention from on high; possibly pointing out to the "team" that organising office outings which deliberately exclude certain colleagues might not show them in the best light. I don't want to rain on everyone's parade, so I am fighting the urge to start sounding like Brewer's Dictonary of Phrase and Fable and coming out with sententious utterances like "The Damage Has Been Done" and "There Is No Point Closing the Stable Door After the Horse Has Bolted".

But why have they excluded you? I hear you ask. Are you a nasty, vile, person who is loathed by everyone who encounters you? Why, why. why?

Why indeed. It is all down to Remora of course - whose ability to manipulate and bamboozle others continues to leave me breathless. It has been a peculiar experience to be demonised within my own working environment, especially as it has represented such a staggering contrast to the way I am treated outside it. I am not exactly Mother Teresa but I do spend a significant proportion of my non-work time doing what for the sake of simplicity I will call Voluntary Work, with and for people who seem to like and respect me. This could not be further from my experience in the office..

When I asked one of these colleagues a year or so ago why I was being excluded, he said "we don't invite you because you don't drink".

?????

Sheesh.

I said that funnily enough "not drinking" did not make me a complete social leper and that I was just as capable of having a good time as he was. But I was wasting my breath, because the reason he had given me wasn't the real one. I spent months agonising over what on earth I had done to upset them all; until Former Boss told me not to worry, they were just jealous! (great, thanks for doing something about that, pal....)

But now - goodness me, I could be out and about with them all at least once a week if I didn't already have a diary full of things I really really want to do.

The most startling invitation actually came from Remora herself - would I like to come and have a meal at her house along with The Jackals?! (Answer on the Tip of my Tongue: "No I would rather insert sharpened bamboo shards under my eyelids"). On that particular occasion I didn't respond, but I did spend several entertaining minutes manipulating her invitation, and with judicious use of scissors transforming it into a cunning origami fold-out of a witch astride a broomstick.

But this week's invitation, extended as has now become the norm to the whole office, is from Stylish Female Colleague - someone I rather like and respect. An outing to a pub to see some stand-up comedy in a couple of months time - apparently we must Book Now as tickets are going fast. I might consider going to such a thing in the company of Stylish Female Colleague, but alas the deal is that we go as a group. A group which includes bullies.

I mentally run through my list of polite declinations. (a) I will be watching television that night (b) I plan to wash my hair (c) umm, you never know, I might be having wild sex with someone I have picked up at the bus stop....

In the end I plump for the truth and send Stylish Female Colleague a quick email. 'I already have a commitment on that date. But I hope you all have a wonderful evening'.

Astonishingly, I mean what I say.

Take A Letter, Miss Jones

Yesterday Line Manager asked me (quite hesitantly, as it was not my turn) if I would take the minutes of the team meeting we were both about to attend. Now I have an issue with the term "team meeting" as I believe this terminology breaches the Trades Descriptions Act. A team is (according to the Collins English Dictionary) "a group of people organised to work together". Whereas our particular group contains people who seem to spend their entire working day bitching, sniping, griping, and festering with resentful jealousy. But hey - let's not get picky.

While continuing to stare at my screen and tap at my keyboard, I uttered the useful noise which stands me in good stead when I am playing for time. 'Mmmmmmmmm...?' is an elongated expression of enquiry, lifted in its final seconds by an interrogative octave. Line Manager mumbled something about me having missed my turn on a previous occasion. Me: 'that's entirely possible'. 'So you'll do it then?' he responded hopefully, unable to believe it could possibly be that easy. I looked up and smiled sweetly. 'Yes, of course'.

About a year ago, I was on the point of giving a presentation to an august gathering of senior officers including the Chief Executive. I was the only woman in the room and by far the most junior. Suddenly the door opened and the Chief Exec's secretary came in with a tray of teas, put it down in front of me, and said 'would you mind handing those round?'

Aaaaarrrgggghhhhhh.

Whatever happened to sisterhood, hon?

On that particular occasion, my passive-aggressive response consisted of banging every single cup down on the table without putting  it on a coaster (I think the Chief Exec's table still bears a number of pale circular scars as a result). Yesterday, however, I think I subverted expectations rather successfully! I got up from my desk a good ten minutes before the meeting, and made sure I arrived at the meeting room in plenty of time, paper and pen in hand. I also sat down right next to Line Manager even though our relationship is currently akin to that of a messily separating couple (him shouting at me in front of junior colleagues was the final straw which sent me hotfoot to the divorce lawyers).

I then sat for ninety minutes industriously making notes. Which was quite handy when Remora started her screeching Witch of Endor act, as it allowed me to look down so my fiery eyes bored smouldering holes into the paper instead of into her head. (I had better not leave the notes lying around, as when I looked over them afterwards I saw that I had written 'lunatic shrieking' and 'tedious ramble' instead of the words people had actually uttered).

Line Manager actually thanked me for taking the minutes.

'No problem', I replied. 'No problem'.

Real Woman = Saboteur

Really, I am starting to feel mean. This is where I always go wrong. I am not, in fact, the poisonous bitch which Spiteful Colleague and Attention Seeker constantly portray me as to others. Shattering though this is to report, I am actually a perfectly decent person. So now I am starting to feel guilty that I am thinking about New Boss in any negative terms whatsoever....

Because he seems a decent person too. He is Northern (a plus, generally speaking); he is obviously "quite bright" (his description of me), and he is barely six weeks into a complicated and onerous job. If I met him at a friend's house, I think I would instinctively like him. He is earthy and blunt, and occasionally moderately funny.

However, I haven't met him at a friend's house. He is the person who has taken over the helm of a ship which for some time has been veering alarmingly off course, and heading for the rocks. He has already told me he isn't going to do anything about my particular concern, and as a result I've lost faith in him rather significantly since the start of the week. So I must curb my wavering spirit; the one which urges me to soften, be receptive to his friendly overtures, and then recklessly start chatting to him about how we are both feeling.

Hmm. I am starting to realise that Real Woman can sabotage the Stepford strategy in two ways - by being too aggressive, but also by being too NICE.

Stand firm, Employees of Stepford! Stand firm!!

New Boss is one of the myriad middle aged men working in the public sector environment. He is under pressure to make financial savings, and at the same time he has an ego which wants to make its mark. So I must remember to bite my tongue and bide my time...

It's Staff Survey Time Again !

The results of our latest ("this time we are Really Really Serious About It") Staff Survey have been published on the intranet. The results are bad ! The workforce is demotivated and demoralised !! Satisfaction ratings have dropped from 70% to 40% in two years !!!

Heck, I could have told them all that for free.

Maybe I should volunteer to be a Case Study? Because two years ago I was acknowledged to be the highest performer in my department; a status reflected in my annual Performance Pay and even a Special Recognition Payment. These days, sadly, I am jaundiced to a deep shade of ochre. But I am actually grateful for the experiences I have had over the past year (a depressing saga I can't be arsed to rehearse even on my own blog - even though at this point in time NO-ONE  IS READING IT BUT ME...!!)

Yes, I am grateful. Because if these things hadn't happened, I might still be working a 60 hour week, chasing the occasional pat on the back from senior managers (doled out in the manner of a City Boy throwing a couple of quid to a Big Issue seller), seeking affirmation and identity through my work, and neglecting every other aspect of my life despite these all being so infinitely more deserving of my time and attention.

But it's OK now.

I've finally woken up and smelled the coffee.

This week I attend a Feedback Session about the Staff Survey results along with about 80 other members of staff from across our Directorate. Gosh. Not a bad turn out - and it turns out that everyone has plenty to say. The Chief Executive, who appears to have initiated this exercise, wears an affable but determined expression; our Director has obviously been practising his solemn expression in the mirror. My New Boss happens to be sitting right in my line of vision - and golly! He looks positively grim.

Hmm. He may now be regretting his words to me - during our third meeting - that he had no intention of having one-to-one discussions with staff (something I suggested we all might find helpful) because he would only be communicating with the two managers below him. "That is what a hierarchy means" he helpfully informed me at the time. Saved me looking the word up, so that was jolly useful.

Yes, he may well now be regretting his insistence that he would be establishing a rigid hierarchical structure -  and possibly also the fact that ever since he arrived he has kept his office door firmly closed in the face of all his staff - because our Director is now using words like 'transparency' 'communication' 'acknowledgement for work well done' and 'transformation'.

Bloody hell. We've forgotten what those words mean. Maybe a dictionary will come in handy after all !

I am wearing a dress. Colourful, short, feminine. Almost "floaty" if I swirl round fast enough (not to be attempted unless in the safety of one's own home, obviously). I sit at a table near the front, and manage to get through all the presentations without heckling. From time to time I even remember to smile.

Should Have Worn a Pinafore...

Oh dear. This Stepford thing is going to be trickier than I thought.

A meeting with my new boss today - he is feeding back to me about a 'situation' I have experienced in the office (I prefer that word to 'problem'. Even though 'problem' is probably far more apposite...)

I'm dressed entirely in black and wearing a black leather jacket. His first words to me are 'you're dressed all in black'. Me: 'That's very observant of you'. We have barely exchanged ten words and already I feel I have slipped off the Fluffy-O-Meter. Our IT chap is busy in New Boss's office so he suggests we 'go somewhere for a cup of coffee'.

It is raining so my carefully straightened and Not At All Mad hair style is instantly destroyed. We go to a major coffee chain and have our 'confidential' meeting right beside three women who are admiring each other's babies. New Boss appreciates that I may have been the 'victim' of some spiteful colleague behaviour. I am a bit obsessed with precise use of vocabulary today and tell him that I am not a victim, I am a "target". We don't dwell much upon semantics because it doesn't take long for him to inform me that he isn't going to take any action against Spiteful Manager. It is exactly as I predicted. He hands me a letter saying he has written it all out for me officially. 'Thank you' I say, and put it in my bag unread.

The meeting is now over as far as I am concerned, but of course I now have to sit and finish my cup of tea and chat about the situation. He reassures me that under his watch, there will be changes to the organisational culture. Really? The organisational culture hasn't altered since approximately 1960. The place is still run by dreary men with enormous egos, which is why we are the second worst organisation in our field in terms of senior female managers. Still, I try and adopt my best Katharine Ross expression (the one at the end of the film, when she's wheeling her trolley through the supermarket....).

I'm not going to pretend I give a good performance. In fact it is extremely sub-standard. Possibly because he keeps saying slightly deranged things like 'I want us all to be a family' and 'I'm sure you can be friends with Spiteful Manager once this has all died down' and as a result I keep reverting back to A Real Woman (one whose smile becomes very strained and who says things like 'actually, I am only friends with people who are pleasant to me').

Bugger. I KNEW I should have worn a pinafore.

Still - later I arrive back in the main office, and interestingly some Stepford effects have lingered. As I approach the door, I see the office sociopath (Remora) on the point of leaving. 'Hello' she says. 'Hi!' I respond breezily, warmly - and totally insincerely. God, that sounded quite good! I even convinced myself !!

I continue on past without breaking my stride, sit down at my desk and put on my iPod. I then spend the rest of the afternoon happily listening to a concert of Baroque pieces performed by the Academy of Ancient Music, and giving a merry little wave when anyone walks past my desk.

Stepford Employee Unveiled

The first time my new boss met me, I had just returned to work after some time off. (I have now officially joined the ranks of those who have experienced a Mental Health Episode). This is all meant to be highly confidential, but of course I know it isn't because of the eagerness with which certain people address me, their voices taut with suppressed interest, and quite unable to sustain the faux-concern they are striving to maintain. They catch me in corridors and assume a tone they have obviously picked up from 'Holby City'. 'How are you?' they whisper, patting my arm conspiratorially. 'How are you now?'

Naturally I have spent some time that morning ensuring I am faultlessly groomed, coiffed and polished so their darting eyes will be unable to spot the Signs of Madness. And so it is with much enjoyment that I respond brightly 'I'm great, thanks! Fabulous!! How are you?'

The second time I met my new boss, about an hour into our meeting, he suddenly said 'You're quite posh, aren't you?' (this was shortly after he had told me he thought I seemed 'quite bright'). I said 'you don't know anything about me'.

I thought that was 'quite restrained' of me.

I could have said 'actually I’ve spent a night sleeping on the floor of a disabled toilet'. Or 'I lived for a year in a house which had been condemned as "uninhabitable" by my local council'. Or 'I used to take the blade out of a Bic razor and cut my arms with it'. Or ‘there was one REALLY bad night when I crawled around in my own shit and vomit'. But I thought those wee snippets of truth might perhaps upset him.

When I first started to experience severe distress symptoms in September 2011, everyone (Personnel, Occupational Health, my then Head of Department) directed me towards the organisation's Employee Counselling Service. It was free! I should take advantage of this special once-in-a-lifetime offer !!! I did keep faintly saying 'I'm not the thing which is broken. Any chance you might take a little look at a few organisational issues like bullying, the imposition of excessive workloads, the terrifyingly hopeless management....?'. But oh deary me. It was easier to just give in.

I'm very grateful that I did. I am grateful that I was allocated an intelligent, compassionate and wise counsellor. I am grateful that I was given space and time to gain some vital and possibly life-saving perspective on my situation. It has really helped me a lot (along with having lots of time off work to spend with my family doing lovely interesting happy things).

Everyone has a burning desire to be understood. Being misunderstood is very painful and frustrating. I am no exception. But the biggest mistake I have made is wanting people at work to understand me. Crazy! - because a) most of them never will b) it is not necessary that they should.

And so - slowly, slowly - I eventually came to the realisation that one copes with work by being A Stepford Employee. One who looks nice, smiles and nods at appropriate moments, acts compliantly, and  keeps one's thoughts entirely to oneself.

Or one's blog.