A Little Wobble

Aw crap. I thought I was doing ok. I really did.

I thought I had managed to detach fairly efficiently from the things which don't matter. I thought I was coping well with my work, that I'd found lots of new and interesting things to do, and that I had reconnected with my fellowship.

And indeed all these things are true.
But. But.

New Boss has convened a meeting of all staff. It's the second one of these he has overseen, and ironically I chaired the first one back in March. It didn't seem to present me with too many problems at the time, even though I had not long returned to work after my Mental Health Episode. I realise now that I coped because I had plenty to keep me occupied. However, I have to confess that I found yesterday weirdly and unexpectedly difficult.

The meeting is held off-site, in a venue unfamiliar to me. And it is while walking towards it that I start to experience the onset of the same kind of peculiar anxiety that began to descend upon me 18 months ago whenever I had to enter the main office. An irrational dread, and sense of impending disaster. I try to ignore it, but when I enter the room and see The Jackals sitting in a pack on one side, the feelings return. So even though a few people I like are strewn among the pack, I sit on the other side because that is the only place I feel safe.

These meetings are totally pointless. New Boss has at least brought in one change for the better - he has put an end to individuals talking about what they are currently working on! So no more ghastly "show and tell" monologues, with people bigging themselves up in the manner of Britain's Got Talent entrants. But of course there is still the other competition - New Boss Factor - to take into account, and there is no way that some of my colleagues will allow this golden opportunity to IMPRESS to pass them by.

I have absolutely no desire or need to impress New Boss. But as the meeting progresses, I realise that oddly I seem to have lost the power of speech. I am simply unable to open my mouth and contribute a single word to the discussion. Is it anxiety? Is it fear? Is it just extreme detachment?? I don't know - but it feels very VERY strange.

New Boss has met me both in Real Woman guise, and as Stepford Employee, and as neither of these two personalities are inarticulate, he keeps glancing over in my direction with an expression of vague annoyance, as if I am doing it on purpose. But I'm not. I just can't produce an utterance. I don't show how I feel inside, naturally. I sit there doing my famous impersonation of someone who is listening - but the truth is that my brain has turned into a washing machine. A noisy rattling one.

To try and stay calm, I think about people I know in trouble to try and give myself a sense of perspective; and when I have finished doing that, I run through all the lines I have in Acts 1 & 2 of the play I am currently rehearsing. (Thank God, I think to myself, I have a rehearsal tonight which is going to take me out of myself). When all these strategies are exhausted, I glance out of the window at buses going past and imagine myself upon them, being transported to anywhere other than my current location...

At 4pm we finally reach Any Other Business, and New Boss announces that we are all invited to stay behind for a general discussion, but that this is purely voluntary and that anyone who wants to, can leave.

No-one moves.
No-one except me that is.

I pick up my bag, head for the exit, and it takes all my willpower to stop myself breaking into a run before I reach the door.

Mediation

Email from Personnel this morning. The mediation session between myself and Line Manager is not, now, going ahead this week as I had been led to believe. I delete this email without responding.

It's not that I am unable to work with Line Manager - not at all. We are already liaising about work matters (albeit in New Boss's presence) and within the main office environment are both endeavouring to behave as normally as possible. Only yesterday he brought over some papers which I had sent to the printer! He has also twice emailed me a thank you for matters I have attended to!! (I would not normally think the latter worth mentioning; except for the fact that thanking his staff is not Line Manager's strong point, and indeed I can't think of many occasions in the last twelve years when I have received such acknowledgements from him).

Line Manager is clearly making an effort. It's all "too little, too late" - but I nonetheless appreciate his gestures and am happy to reciprocate in return.

So today I actually smile at Line Manager as he enters a meeting (late) which I have organised; ask him to present on a certain item, and thank him for contributing helpfully at one point. I consider all these things to be appropriate, polite and professional responses - and that is all the organisation requires from me.

But at the end of the meeting, Line Manager does his "hovering" thing. He did this yesterday in the main office, picking up an envelope addressed to a former colleague Jamelia which was lying next to me (aaaaargh, I hate it when he fiddles with things on my desk) and trying to talk to me about our shared memories of her. I replied monosyllabically, because what I actually wanted to start screaming is "you're not my friend! What part of this statement do you not understand?? YOU ARE NOT MY FRIEND".

So when he starts "hovering" today, I instantly gravitate to others in the room. This is not difficult, because - joy of joys! - the room today is full of fabulous women. My glamorous pal Lynn is there, not giving away by look or gesture the fact that she knows all about my problems with Line Manager. A female police officer has just joined our team - a straight talking kind of woman one knows one can do business with. There is a lively women who has come along to talk about an event, the CEO of a local charity - oh, even unceremoniously retired Senior Female Colleague is there (albeit in another voluntary capacity). I am spoilt for choice ! Everywhere I turn, I am falling over intelligent, capable, inspiring, lovely women.

Line Manager eventually has to admit defeat, particularly when I twig that he is intending to help me carry meeting items back to my office and cunningly rope in two other attendees to assist me with this task. Line Manager heads for the door. I am not entirely heartless so as he passes I politely thank him for coming. I then turn back to continue my conversation with people I am actually fond of.

Mediation? Yes, I have agreed to it but only because it is going to cost the organisation a LOT of money. And this particular debt isn't one I feel like waiving.

Stepford Employee takes Centre Stage

At the exact moment today's (recently established and bi-monthly) management meeting  is due to start, Stepford Employee glides into the main office wearing a summery dress accompanied by an equally summery smile. She taps discreetly on New Boss's door and disappears inside, shutting the door in the faces of Big Ears and Noddy and their other little chums (it drives them crazy with thwarted frustration, particularly when Stepford Employee lets out bursts of happy animated laughter which is the only thing they can hear through the door...)

New Boss summons Line Manager to let him know Stepford Employee has now arrived (she could have collected him herself en route, but she took care to enter by the side door, thus avoiding his office.) When Line Manager enters, Stepford Employee makes sure she thanks him prettily for kindly agreeing to a slight alteration in the start time of the meeting.

Yes, there is "history" between Stepford Employee and her Line Manager - a painful saga of mis-management, lies and discrediting (oh - that's just him, you understand. Stepford Employee merely asserted her right not to be bullied). But on this lovely afternoon, with the air-conditioning gently humming, the sun streaming through the window, and Stepford Employee softly sharing information about her area of work, one could almost be lulled into thinking that these two people have a positive and productive working relationship.

Things are going swimmingly when, as the meeting is drawing to a close, New Boss mentions the report he emailed round last Friday. Yes - New Boss has written a report! A report which seeks to strategically alter policy !!

Ah. Ho hum. Deary me.

There is nothing intrinsically wrong with New Boss's report, other than the fact it is takes absolutely no account of the reality of Stepford Employee's particular area of work. It seeks to impose a solution which her many years experience tells her will not succeed. And he wants to know what she thinks about it.

Therein lies the danger.

Real Woman would be happy to tell him what she thinks, but her views would be blunt, her concern palpable, her warnings unedited, and her alternative solutions detailed. Real Woman would do all these things because she cares about what happens and doesn't want anything to go wrong. Real Woman would invest her time, energy and passion into trying to get the best result for the organisation.

However, this is exactly the kind of thing which made Real Woman deeply unpopular amongst certain members of the Hierarchy as well as colleagues, and led her to the point of a nervous breakdown (old-fashioned term for her Mental Health Episode). So Real Woman peeps out of the closet, sniffs the air, scents danger and quickly slams the door shut again.

Stepford Employee seizes her moment to take centre stage!

"I haven't had a chance to look at your report in detail yet" she murmurs softly, "but I thought your matrix looked very interesting. And I'm really looking forward to reading it all properly this afternoon".

New Boss develops a slight swagger (quite a challenge for a man who is sitting down) and regales Stepford Employee with a five minute monologue, explaining how he managed to drive his report through resistance from both officers and politicians. It is an account which reeks of macho Northern sweat. Stepford Employee has to resist the temptation to murmur "my, you're so MANLY and BRAVE !!"

The best she can do is lower her head, peep up through her lashes (Benefit's "They're Real" - brilliant product....) and gaze admiringly in New Boss's direction.

Line Manager, who has known Stepford Employee in her previous guise of Real Woman for over a decade, says nothing but looks thoroughly unnerved.

As well he might.

Collateral Damage

There is a peculiar imposition upon me which "management" is now seeking - that things can go back to how they were.

Now really. This is just bonkers.

A marriage which has endured infidelity will never go back to how it was. A friendship which has suffered betrayal will never go back to how it was. Anything which has been damaged will never go back to exactly how it was.

It might endure, it might even become more positive and rewarding, but it will become something different.

The Hierarchy's merry assumption that consequences can be ignored is frustrating. But to some extent, I understand, as there was a time when I disregarded the consequences of my own actions. So I will be forever grateful to the people who forced me to confront them. When I didn't turn up yet again for a university jive class, and my dance partner promptly dumped me and started dancing with someone else. When I swore on the phone to a utility company and they subsequently refused to come and attend to my problem. And when I did something to vex the company director, and I was given a month's wages and asked to leave that very day (these things were a long time ago, you understand....)

All these things were painful and taught me to change.
I really really needed to change.

I don't know or care if the people at work who have behaved so badly towards me need to change. That's their business. But the Hierarchy has to accept that the behaviour of The Others has had consequences.

These people have caused me damage.
And so now things are - inevitably - going to be DIFFERENT.

Schadenfreude

There are lots of small children in my life, but none are actually my own. My default state is constantly one of mild anxiety, and if anyone I care about is in distress (hell, even anyone I don't care about), it ratchets up even higher. I really cannot comprehend how parents are able to cope with the day-in, day-out, endless worry about their children.

My overnight anxiety is only alleviated when my troubled friend Leslie rings me at 11am. I suggest that we meet that evening at a meeting of our support group. I identify with Leslie's fears and shame in not wanting to face other people, and I don't know if Leslie is going to be able to muster the nerve to come. I can only offer the reassurance that I know to be true - that those present will feel nothing but compassion and understanding. 

In stark contrast, some of those I work with prefer to glory in other people's misfortunes. Indeed I never really knew what the word Schadenfreude meant until I saw The Others operating up close. 

About six months ago, news emerged which impacted seriously upon one of the department's projects. I had arrived in the office early to find Ex-Army Man agog with excitement, because he had opened the relevant email and was hence the First To Know. The glee with which he imparted the unfortunate news to each member of the staff entering the office was depressing to behold. But these were as naught compared to his real prey - the project manager himself ! Ex-Army Man was on him like a rash, regaling him with the disastrous news before Project Manager had even taken his coat off. Project Manager has treated Ex-Army Man with distinct froideur ever since. Not that Ex-Army Man has noticed or cares....

Illnesses, redundancies, failing projects, Things Going Wrong, are veritable feasts to The Others; who gorge themselves on them; not until they are sick, but until the Decent People around them feel like throwing up.

(Call me weird, but it is a complete mystery to me how anyone else's distress can ever be a source of satisfaction).

Conversely, of course, news of co-workers' success, joy and happiness provoke in The Others bitch-fests of gargantuan proportions! Life Coach Colleague twigged this a long time ago, and takes great amusement in loudly proclaiming his achievements/accounts of his wonderful holidays simply so he can watch the subsequent flurries.

Two years ago, I went to the other extreme and began to conceal, minimise and underplay success in the manner of a small furry night creature trying to avoid the attention of rapacious owls.

A fat lot of good it did me.

I still became a target.

When I arrive at the meeting this evening, Leslie is already sitting there.

Such determination. Such courage. 

It is a wonderful moment. 

And it makes my day.

This is life, not a dress rehearsal

It's been a week since I met up with the cast of the play I'm appearing in, due to my disappearing off to Spain for four days. I arrive at tonight's rehearsal early, and am shortly joined by Pat. He's an open friendly guy, and I enjoy chatting to him. The others stroll in - mainly young sassy women wearing terrifyingly short dresses. They are, without exception, delightful company.

One of them - Charlie - has already asked me to be her Facebook friend; and I have had to tell her that despite being on Facebook, I have yet to accept a single friend request and indeed now have 20 waiting (mainly old school friends). I am scared of Facebook - it's that simple.

Charlie tells me I am a complete wuss.

She's absolutely gorgeous and only 25. I can't imagine why she seems so keen to hook up with me as I am - ahem - "somewhat older". (Later she asks me if I will play a part in a short film she has written and directed, and I say yes because I have decided to start saying YES to life more often....)

I have a bigger part in this play than I intended to have, given that this will be my first treading of the boards following a rather long sabbatical (long = quarter of a century....) So nervous was I before the first read-through, that I turned up having learned all my lines. This is now standing me in good stead, as it is allowing me to focus all my attention on giving what is hopefully a half-way decent performance.

Immersing myself in this experience is proving intensely therapeutic. I am part of a group of people all working together to achieve a common aim. Oh - we are the very thing that my work configuration suggests I am a part of! We are a TEAM !!

It's been so long since I was part of a team - one where one's contribution is valued, no matter what it's size or profile - that I have forgotten what it feels like.

This team is benefiting from a generous intelligent director, relaxed attitudes, and an absence of egos. It's a fab team. I am loving being a part of it.

My Comfort Zone

Unexpectedly, I see my lovely GP today. We are both attending an event in our work capacities. I don't approach him, figuring that this might inappropriately transgress boundaries; but he demonstrates no such sensibilities, calling out my name when he sees me and making sure that I speak to him.

There is something slightly surreal about standing in the middle of a busy room chatting about the event we're attending; when only a short while ago I was sitting in his office crying so hard that I could barely breathe. Naturally, neither of us alludes to this incident (there are some boundaries which must never be breached...)

He thinks I look well. I tell him feel good because I am in my own environment, where I am completely safe. He jokes that he is outside his own comfort zone. God, he's gorgeous. If he was not my GP, he would be the easiest man in the world to flirt with. But he is my medical advisor - and an exceptionally good one. I am incredibly lucky to be on his patient list.

He is not the only person at the event who knows me. There are some local politicians there, community leaders, and Council colleagues from other departments. Some of them kindly compliment me in public about the work I do. The atmosphere overall is cheerful and upbeat. I have lots of interesting conversations and find myself laughing a lot.

There is an older lady sitting on a chair to the side and I suddenly recognise her as Jamelia - a former work colleague who retired about six years ago. She is with a friend so I hover until a suitable break arises and I can introduce myself. Jamelia greets me with touching warmth, holding my hand for ages and asking if we can have a photograph taken together. She asks me for news of our department, and I tell her what has been happening in the past few years, most recently Former Boss's retirement, and the arrival of New Boss.

I don't tell her about the orchestrated bullying, about the behaviour of Spiteful Manager (her former line manager), about the horrendous schism which has arisen between the Decent People and The Others, or that the senior management team abandoned any pretence of proper leadership the day Senior Female Colleague was unceremoniously shunted into retirement against her will.

Why upset her? I tell her everything is fine.

She gives me a hug. "You are a lovely person" she says. "You were always very kind to me. I think you are really lovely".

I endured the behaviour of The Others for months without being reduced to locking myself in the loos and crying, but when Jamelia says these words to me, I really don't know how I manage to stop myself from bursting into tears.

True colours

It is really very useful when someone shows their true colours.

Yes, it can come as a wee bit of a shock (this is particularly upsetting if one has misguidedly assigned people into the "Decent People" class) but just think of the time and effort which can now be put to more productive use!

- No more wasted hours chatting by the kettle, hoping that this person likes you (They don't, so feel grateful for this clarity) 

- No more confiding of your money/health/relationship concerns (this person has proved themselves untrustworthy so you need never tell them anything about yourself again)

- No more believing a single thing they say to you (because you now have proof they are a mendacious slimy little scumbag)

This week I go along to a work "do" - which is a very rare occurrence these days, as strangely I always seem to have something better to do than schmooze up to New Boss, senior officers, and politicians. But - dammit! - the subject of this work event is one which piques my interest. I make appropriate preparations and ask three non-work friends to accompany me, meeting up with them beforehand for a beverage.

Despite all this, when I walk into the venue and see the Jackals waiting in a pack in the centre of the room, I feel a sudden irrational upsurge of anxiety and realise why I have not been feeling quite right over the past few days. Thank God I am not on my own. Really, I feel like a little baby giraffe I once saw on a safari (it had a broken leg, and when I asked the guide what would happen to it, he just shook his head....)

My little group peels off to the side and is generally left alone for the evening (which is an enjoyable one). But around halfway through the event I have to go to the loo and am temporarily unguarded.

At this point, I am approached by one of the pack, who adopts an expression of feigned concern and asks "how are you?" as if she hasn't seen me for months. She is clearly forgetting (or possibly not...) that she saw me on my return to work following my Mental Health Episode and asked me exactly the same question! In exactly the same tone of voice !!

"Absolutely fantastic" I say (naturally I have attended to my appearance meticulously prior to arriving). 

She looks disappointed which is of course the effect I was aiming to create. 

"How are you?" I add incuriously, then (thank God) espy one of my friends/bodyguards approaching. 

"So sorry, I have to go...." I add, before my interrogator can answer.

Because let's face it - I don't actually care how she is in the slightest.

My friend Cleo was once talking about a neighbour she disliked intensely. She said "when I see her, I really want to tell her to **** off, but I know that would be wrong. So I just say HiYA!..."

Cleo is tough, incisive and hilarious. I've learned a lot from her.

So rather like the vodka advertisement, which shows the viewer a different reality when seen through the bottle; as the evening progresses and people pass by, I see a different reality to the one they portray. I see their true colours. And like Cleo, I make frequent use of her mantra.

"Hiya!" I say to Spiteful Manager. "Hi!" to Remora. "How are you?" (New Boss). "Nice to see you!" (Poor Performer). "Hi! Hiya! HiiiiYYYYAAAA!!"

And that's all I say.

But why didn't you go and talk to the Decent People? I hear you ask. Those Decent People you work with, because you think they are hard-working, kind and compassionate. Why didn't you talk to them?

There is a simple answer.

They weren't there.

They were all smart enough to stay away.

Reconnecting

Some years ago, when friends used to ask me how I was feeling, the best response I was able to make was: "I don't know but I don't feel right".

These words have been floating through my brain for the last couple of days. I don't feel quite right at the moment. I am suffering what I would describe as low-grade anxiety - sense of unease, slight constriction in chest, poor quality sleep, a degree of fearfulness. It is the kind of anxiety that up until recently I just accepted and tried not to give too much attention, but I am more careful now that I have experienced this sensation escalating into a full-blown panic attack. (I have discovered it is really quite hard to subsequently hold a poised conversation with someone who has seen you carted off by paramedics....)

So I run through the standard checklist:

Am I hungry? No.
Am I angry? No.
Am I lonely? No.
Am I tired........?

Ah.

I do seem to be more than usually tired at the moment, possibly because I am trying to do too much. Not on the work front, I hasten to add. Just burning the candle at both ends (learning the lines for the play I am in, singing with the choir, going to meetings of my "support group", and writing on a regular basis). Also, there are now a few things Going On which are dragging me back into an environment I have decided is not good for me (I have - after long contemplation - emailed Personnel agreeing to enter into formal mediation with Line Manager).

I am wondering, though, if this anxiety is not simply the aftermath of spending four solid days in the company of committed drinkers during my recent break to Espana. After all, when I asked my youngest sister the time at one point, she replied: "it's Sangrrrrrrrriiiiiiia time !!!"

I think that sums up the situation nicely.

Both my sisters are adorable, but my youngest sister is a particular hoot. She also said things like "not a good look" every time I donned my sunhat; and "ooooh, that must be one of your DEMONS!" when I said anything about work, having been particularly entertained by my account of New Boss's attempt to engage in psychoanalysis (or should that be exorcism...?). Middle sister has a more equable and relaxed temperament, so it is strange to recall that we used to fight a lot. One particular reminiscence consisted of the following exchange:

Middle sister: "that was the time you were trying to hit me with a hockey stick"
Me: "no, that was the time I was trying to kill you..."

Despite having a wonderful mini-break with them, I still get some mild after-effects when removed from my comfort zone. It is this which ensures that I head off to a "support group" meeting with my husband one evening this week. On arrival, we are told that the speaker hasn't turned up - will one of us stand in? My husband looks at me meaningfully.

It's a great meeting, and it's greatness has very little to do with me. It is ninety minutes of connection, humour, poignancy, and love. I spend the twenty minute walk home listening to someone who needs to talk while my husband walks on ahead. And when I get in, I can feel that the anxiety has already begun to lessen.

Hot and bothered

Out tonight with my friend Sue. We go and see the new Johnny Depp film "Dark Shadows", managing to eat an entire bagful of jelly snakes before the film has even started. Sue is also a public sector employee, from the same type of environment as my friend Lynn. Sue and I have several other things in common, most notably that neither of us has drunk alcohol for some years.

Sue possesses the rare ability to remain calm and good-humoured under duress. In fact she has many admirable qualities which I feel would greatly enhance my Stepford Employee role, if only I could mimic them convincingly. Even when we are forced to queue for ages to pay for our jelly snakes, she is able to joke in a friendly manner with the chap serving. I, on the other hand, can feel myself getting increasingly irritable at the long wait we are enduring (when there are all those commercials and trailers to watch!)

Come to think of it, I have felt lurking irritation for much of the day. I blame the heat, but in fact it is my twin character defects of impatience and intolerance rearing their ugly heads. Only this lunchtime, an exceptionally voluble Lithuanian tried to jump ahead of me when I was waiting to order my coffee; and I felt my inner Lady Bracknell coming out ("do you mind....?????" with voice rising incrementally in pitch and volume, and at least three non-existent vowels incorporated into the last word).

At one point during the very helpful counselling prescribed by Occupational Health back in February, I came to the conclusion that work was the only place I felt I could never truly be myself. I felt so constrained by the impossibility - on pain of being handed my P45 - of saying what I really wanted to say, that I believed it was this very bondage which had actually made me ill. Outside work, I think I am far more relaxed, frank and consistent.

But now, armed with my new Coping Strategy, I am learning to do what the rest of my co-workers do. (I admit I have some way to go before I become proficient at playing a two-faced, back-stabbing, hypocrite but hey - give me time!! I am still comparatively new to this Stepford game...)

When the film ends, Sue and I go for a coffee and catch up with each other's news. I tell her that Personnel have finally sent me through some dates for the mediation session with Line Manager but that I have not yet responded. It's a tricky one. Do I, don't I..? Should I, could I...? He loves me, he loves me not...?

I have many reservations about mediation now, doubting Line Manager's ability to maintain confidentiality (crucial, if this is to work) but mainly because I am starting to get more and more used to "not truly being myself". Mediation will challenge my Stepford Employee persona, because the temptation to say what I really think might prove to be overwhelming.

I'm keeping a lid on things at the moment. But if the temperature rises unexpectedly, things might suddenly explode. And Stepford Employee might vanish in a puff of smoke...

British Gas Theorem

Before disappearing to Valencia, I made arrangements to have lunch on return with Lynn - someone I have met through work, and who works for a similarly structured organisation. Lynn is one of those women who looks fantastic, despite appearing to wear no make-up bar a slash of eyeliner and some lip gloss. She is funny, insightful and sensitive. I wish she was one of my colleagues.

On checking my Blackberry before I leave to start work, I see an email asking for information about a currently sensitive situation within my particular patch of responsibility, and manage to obtain this - plus photographs! - while walking towards my rendezvous with Lynn. I send through a detailed report to the Hierarchy from their Reporter on the Spot. Within five minutes I receive a thank you from the Chief Executive for my "helpful update".

Now there would have been a time that this kind of communique would have given me a nice warm inner glow lasting the entire day (not for nothing does my husband call me Lisa Simpson, making comparisons between that cartoon character's pitiably eager thirst for praise and affirmation and my own...) But today, all that the CEO's email represents is Freedom! The Hierarchy now know I am out and about, busily working. I suspect that this means I will not hear from anyone for the rest of the day, and this prediction proves correct.

So Lynn and I enjoy a leisurely lunch during which we swap a number of Line Manager stories. Oh - the relief of finding one is not alone! And why do these insecure, neglectful, and easily threatened Line Managers always seem to be men?? I know there are some wonderful men out there, so how come we've ended up getting total dorks over-seeing our lives between the hours of 9am - 5pm? Another of life's Great Unanswered Mysteries.

Our lovely lunch over, I pop in to see another couple of work contacts before finally heading towards my own office (a little haven of tranquillity, where The Others have never trod). En route I buy a big coffee to see me through the ordeal of switching on my computer and actually doing some desk work. I chat to some of the other inhabitants who are hovering about in reception. I get into my office at about 3pm, and start booting up my systems. Sigh. It is taking ages today. 

I shuffle a few papers around, stifling a yawn. Am feeling a wee bit tired. The advantage of having my own little space with a lockable door becomes apparent when I work out that by pushing two armchairs together I can make a very neat little bed! (I am quite small, you understand). And it just so happens there is a comfy cushion and a blanket to hand...

Half an hour later I wake up feeling much MUCH better.

My computer is humming encouragingly, and all systems seem to be go.

I work very hard and fast for two hours, managing to complete all the tasks on my list.

I once received a vast bill after an engineer had spent no more than ten minutes twiddling with a couple of knobs on my problematic gas boiler. I wrote to Head Office politely querying the extortionate charge, and in response received an equally polite letter advising me that I was not paying for the time the engineer spent on the job; I was paying for "his ability to solve the problem". Hmmm. Hard to argue with that kind of logic. In fact - I rather like it!

So today, my employers paid not for the time I actually spent working, but for what I achieved.

It's just that I am not intending to draw this to their attention... 

Operating Systems

New Boss thinks I am "over-reacting" to Line Manager's past treatment of me, and helpfully advises me "you'd have done the same".

It is illuminating when people make this type of sweeping generalisation, as all they do is reveal something about themselves. So when New Boss makes that comment to me, of course what he actually means is "I would have done the same".

My laptop is fading at the moment, and I am having problems connecting to the internet. I keep asking IT-literate friends what type of laptop I should buy as a replacement, and the usual discussions are kicking off about the respective merits of Macs and PCs. I am unable to follow the intricacies of this particular debate, so all I really manage to glean is that although they appear to perform similar functions, they have different operating systems.

Oh - exactly like some of my colleagues!! I think to myself. They look like all the other members of my department, they appear to walk and talk in a similar manner - but there are distinct but crucial differences. Without making any kind of value judgement, it does appear that they too have alternative operating systems....

So when New Boss pronounces that I would have done the same as Line Manager, I reply "you're wrong. I wouldn't have". I don't go into the detailed explanation, which is that my operating system was hard-wired into my brain about two decades ago. This requires me whether I want to or not to do the following:

- tell the truth
- admit when I am in the wrong
- put the needs of others before my own
- make amends where necessary, and
- try to live a decent and honourable life.

Not being a saint, I operate very imperfectly (bit like my laptop...) I have particular struggles with: "Forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive others who trespass against us".

But my only hope is to keep trying.

Thin Slicing

There's another email awaiting me on my return from Spain. This one is from Personnel - she is trying to set up a mediation session between myself and Line Manager - am I available on certain dates...?

Wow - depressing! Because mediation is something I asked for as far back as September 2010, when my relationship with Line Manager was already plummeting into the abyss. At that time (in desperation, because I was so concerned by what was happening) I researched options myself and presented them to Former Boss, Personnel and Director. But they said no.

I am fairly convinced that if they had agreed to mediation when I first requested it, the relationship might have got back on track. But the public sector view was that mediation was too expensive - and also it might involve feelings (eeeek!!!). So nothing was done, and inevitably things got worse and worse. Worse as in (from him) sarcasm, undermining, siding with others and shouting at me; and worse as in (from me) standing up for myself, asserting my right not to be bullied, and taking out a formal grievance which took six months to be heard. As you might imagine, the economic impact of all this far exceeded the paltry £1500 cost of formal mediation.

When New Boss came to see me back in March, and helpfully informed me that he felt the relationship could be mended, I picked up a sheet of paper, tore it in half, and said "that can be mended". I then tore these pieces across over and over again until hundreds of scraps of paper fluttered down on the table and added "but that can't".

I tend towards explicit Blue Peter-type demonstrations at moments of extreme stress.

There's a brilliant book by Malcolm Gladwell called "Blink". The concept of thin-slicing - the incredibly rapid and unconscious processing of information - helped me to understand why we so often experience strong reactions, both negatively and positively, towards certain situations and people; and why we should always trust our own instincts.

The book delves deeply into many areas of life, and unsurprisingly there is much focus upon relationships. Gladwell particularly cites a scientist called John Gottman who has made a life study of married couples, and can predict with 95% accuracy whether a couple will still be together in 15 years time. He analyses every conceivable emotion which a couple express during the course of a conversation, and creates complex equations which act as predictors.

But this analysis reduces down further to a single classic "thin-slice" interpretation. Gottman figures that there is one single emotion which is indicative of the deteriorating state of a marriage, and that is contempt.

It is not a nice emotion to experience or to feel. I hate feeling this emotion in relation to any human being because it is so negative. It is judgemental, rejecting, but above all things it is irrevocable.

When I muse on everything Line Manager has done over the past year - lie about me, discredit me, range others against me, spread gossip, take sides, exclude me, and deliberately drag other members of my team into our dispute - I feel many things. I feel sad; I feel angry: I feel disappointed; and I feel frustrated. But underlying all these feelings, I am conscious of a deep-rooted contempt for Line Manager which nothing is ever going to be able to alter.

Against this painful reality, mediation is starting to seem like a terrible waste of everyone's time.

The Stepford Employee returns...

My husband very kindly meets my sisters and I at the airport and ensures that everyone gets home safely. We ourselves arrive back home around 5pm, but it is not until 9.30pm that I finally bother to scroll through my work emails to see what has been happening during my two days absence.

Oh deary me! There has been a wee bit of a flurry. Apparently I am in possession of a crucial set of keys which are now Urgently Needed, and this has actually prompted Line Manager to send me a text on a Saturday (unheard of) requesting my immediate response. Lest he be accused of inappropriate "weekend harassment", I notice he is very quick to make clear that New Boss has sanctioned this intervention.

Only thing is - I don't think I happened to mention that I was going to be out of the country...

Provision of this information was not mandatory, given that I had official permission to be away on annual leave, but I suppose that once upon a time I might have artlessly chatted to Line Manager and New Boss about my plans for a delightful city break to southern Spain. As it was, I merely set my out-of-office and vanished; and I think only Life Coach Colleague from my own department knew where I was heading.

Several emails are now falling over each other, requesting politely that I make contact first thing Tuesday morning so the grand key-handing-over ceremony can be arranged. I could delay my response until first thing in the morning, but of course I recognise that a splendid Stepford opportunity has presented itself! So at 10.30pm at night I nobly respond by both email and text, advising the hierarchy that I will personally be on site at 10am the following morning to enable access to the building in question.

I am so willing! So helpful !! So apologetic for being out of the country !!!

There are several other directives from New Boss on other matters, but I shelve them because they are neither urgent nor important.

Stepford Employee has returned. But only strategically.

What the doctor ordered...

It's not that I want everyone around me to placate, mollify, and flatter. In fact, that is the last thing I want or expect them to do - which is probably why I was so susceptible to someone setting out to be strategically manipulative. Hopefully I am now a lot wiser.

Spending time in the company of both my sisters means we are all constantly challenging each other's perceptions of what is fair, and true, and important. It has been instructive to discuss some of my "workplace issues" with them, and get alternative perspectives. These tend to be refreshingly blunt and incisive.

I am reminded of the time recently when I told my friend Jo about something Remora had done (it was another instance of her weirdly random "stalking" behaviour) and I said to Jo "why do you think she would have done that?"

Whereupon Jo responded without missing a beat "because she's f***ing nuts??"

There have been many moments over the past two days when my sisters and I have all cried with laughter; just as I did when Jo made her definitive pronoucement.

We visited Valencia's Botanical Gardens this morning, and meandered into the Medicinal Garden, sniffing leaves of rosemary, verbena and lavender; and reading about the nasty overdose effects of belladonna, laurel and holly. Medicine constantly advances and recedes in complexity and effectiveness, but nothing has ever done more to help me detach from the miseries of my working environment than finding something to laugh about.

So I am grateful to all my friends and family (and let us not forget my doctor) who help me recognise the sheer bloody absurdity of what goes on around me every Monday to Friday between the hours of 9am and 5pm; and who have assisted my spectacular transformation into a Stepford Employee.

Back into the role tomorrow! Mmmm. Can hardly wait.