Money Where My Mouth Is

The prospect of facing my antagonists across a darkened courtroom seems more than a little intimidating. I haven’t decided I definitely will, but I am following the course of action that means I can if it feels the right thing to do when the time comes.

I lodged an appeal because I had nothing to lose, even though the outcome was predetermined. Likewise, I underwent pre-claim conciliation with ACAS not because I thought it would do me any good, but because I had to at least consider it before I could lodge a claim, and testing the waters wouldn’t put me in any worse a position. I assumed they wouldn’t take me seriously unless I formally presented a completed claim to an Employment Tribunal; true to form, they offered the smallest token gesture as a settlement, so I took the plunge, instructed solicitors and lodged a claim.

I thought I might feel overwhelmed; certainly I have had a return of migraine attacks every time there is some correspondence about this with “my solicitor” (it still feels really weird saying that). However, on the whole it is a positive experience to have someone to fight your corner with you. My solicitor managed to put what I needed to explain in a sufficiently robust way for me to think that someone else had actually understood what I had been through. What I am paying for, as well as expertise, is the impartial detachment of a professional whose skills are in making arguments well.

There is a down side to that, though. I am very raw and fragile underneath the gung-ho bluster, in a way that still takes me by surprise. When my solicitor sent me an assessment of merits which gave me good odds for one claim, and more than evens on the other two, I nonetheless felt unnerved by the fact that she had assessed the counterarguments as easily. That does not mean she accepts their explanation of events; it does mean she knows there will be another side to this, and realistically it will be aired, considered, and there is a possibility it will be preferred.

Although I need her to believe me and believe in me, I realise she has to be detached to be able to do her job properly. Professional pride at doing a job well is not the same as being emotionally invested. I am the latter, and I am employing someone else to fight this for/with me precisely because she is not.

There has already been a court date set for agreeing the procedural timetable. It arrived as soon as my claim was lodged, and before my ex-employer has filed a response (they still haven’t). They have already asked for a postponement, though, which is annoying, but possibly a sign that they are a tiny bit rattled.

Employment cases are effectively industrial divorce – sometimes they are rubber-stamping exercises, sometimes it’s a relief for both parties to go their separate ways, and sometimes it’s deeply, horribly personal on one or both sides. I know I am in the latter category. It is a matter of professional pride, or rather a dent in my professional pride, that I was misrepresented and therefore not respected. For me, this exercise will continue for as long as it feels like it is redressing that balance. I will do so with something akin to dignity with an unemotional hand to guide me, even if that hand does cost an arm and a leg!

My gut feeling is that they will not compromise at a level I would be happy with. At the back of my mind is the belief that this is extremely likely to have to go the whole way – barrister, days in court, cross-examination, all of that. I couldn’t do it tomorrow, but hopefully, by the time the full trial comes, we will have jumped enough hurdles and crossed enough bridges that it will feel like the inevitable next step.

The whole picture is too much to take in from where I am at the moment; I will have to try and concentrate on the part immediately in front of me and, as it were, try not to look down or fall off in the meantime. I mustn’t think about how much it will all cost, or how terrifying it will be to face an entire group of them against one little me. I must remember that I am standing up to bullies, that workplace bullying will go on indefinitely if no one is prepared to stand up to them. What good are laws if no one is prepared to put their money where their mouth is and use them? I have said it before, but if a former lawyer isn’t prepared to put their trust in the legal system, what does that say about either the law or the former lawyer?

I must focus on One. Small. Step. At. A. Time.

Round the mulberry bush

So, here we go… Before making a claim to Employment Tribunal, you have to consider conciliation. ACAS gets in touch, asks you about your potential claim and, if you want, then puts this to the potential Respondent. Any response is then put back to you, and, if it is possible, you meet in the middle; end of story – everyone lives happily ever after.

Or you can say you don’t even want to give it a go. Or you can say you’ll give it a go but you know you won’t be taken seriously unless you actually lodge a claim. Which is what happened with me.

Anyone who has read any other of my posts probably understands that I do mull things over before doing anything. Same goes with even contacting ACAS. What took me by surprise is how I felt after I’d done it. I felt great! Seriously – spring in my step, whistle on the lips and all that. I knew it would get no where, but also that it had to be done. And that by doing it, I had nothing to lose.So now, conciliation is formally over, I have a certificate confirming it was attempted, and I can lodge my case.

I am lucky in that I have worked with employment specialists, and so choosing a firm is actually quite straight forward. It’s not about money, so I’m not going for the cheapest. I’m not even going for a no win no fee firm, as I have no experience of them. I am choosing a firm I once worked for, whose lawyers I know and admire, and most importantly, trust. They knew me, and it is important to me that when they read a lot of the nonsense that has been said and emailed about me, they know what I was like before, and I hope this will mean that they are just a tiny bit more robust in defending me.

It’s not about the money; it’s about doing this thing, standing up for myself, to the best of my ability. I wasn’t able to stay and continue the fight from inside. They moved to the final, elimination phase of bullying. If, despite everything I’ve said and done about everything they’ve said and done, I don’t do this final phase of standing up to the bullies, they will have got away with every horrible, distorted, cruel act, and I won’t respect myself.

Like many, many others, I have been gripped by the Archers’ recent Titchner story-line. I found it extremely upsetting not just because I have friends who have been through similar relationships, not just because it was well-acted and compellingly told. I found it stomach-churningly distressing because the lies and the distortions, the control and coersion, the two-faces of a bully were portrayed in a way that is so hard to explain, but instantly recognisable if you have ever lived through it. But they did do it, slowly and carefully, comparing one reality with another, which is what I have to do.

This isn’t going to end with an over-dramatic kitchen knife incident; but it could well end with a court case, and every little detail being trawled over by lawyers. I am choosing to put my money where my mouth is, and I can tell the world (even a small, selective part of the world) what it was like for me. I will have some degree of control over how my alternative truth gets out there, is aired and heard. Regaining a little bit of control, and redressing the lies, are currently what is important for me, and what I need to do to regain the mangled, distorted thing that used to be my self-respect.

 

The Say/Do Gap

Most experts on the issue of Employee Engagement agree that there are a number of elements which have to come together for a committed and productive workforce. One of the elements is that the Employer displays Organisational Integrity. Another name for this is the Say/Do gap. If there is a difference between 1) what leaders say they/others will/should do and 2) what they actually do, their staff do notice. And judge their honesty and integrity, and worth as a leader, if the two do not match. Much like children who point out if you’re doing something you have ever told them not to do, even if it was months ago, and in an entirely different context; it usually begins with Child highlighting this with the words “But you said….”.

For over two weeks following the meeting, I heard nothing from SB (Shit Boss). Then, he suddenly produced his own notes of the meeting, two weeks after, and with no reference to the notes I sent him, other than a perfunctory thank you. I wrote my minutes of our meeting the next morning and based them on the notes Fixed Term Colleague took during the meeting (in comparison to SB who wrote nothing down). The two are different in many small details, for example at the beginning of the meeting SB referred to the Redundancy Policy and said that he wouldn’t insult me by going through it as I had written it, which is what I recorded. In SB’s notes, he says that I confirmed I was familiar with the policy. I hadn’t actually spoken at that stage. I didn’t for the first 10 minutes. Only a small detail, but technically not what happened.

This from the person who told me I should be Whiter than White. Should I consider this difference creative? Inventive? A lie? Whatever we call it, what he wrote doesn’t reflect the detail of what actually happened. And it is on record. With a third party present, and their notes to prove it. So all the other times our “recollections differed”, my credibility might be preferred. In a Tribunal, for example.

I pointed out to SB that we must have a different understanding of what minutes were for. I thought they were to record what was actually said, which is what my minutes do; his don’t. I also cut to the chase and said I thought the selection criteria were 1) me, and 2) Lovely Colleague for supporting me. I also asked if we could stop the pretence of a consultation process and try and resolve it with minimal additional fallout, other than the damage to mine and Lovely Colleague’s careers. I pointed out that when I had first raised the issue of bullying, I had mentioned that it would probably be “career limiting”; at the time, he asked why I would think that; and yet, here we are. He hasn’t responded to this yet.

None of the above will change anything, but the longer the pretence of a consultation period continues, the more it is shown up for what it really is. Last week, a colleague mentioned that Sandra and one of the Ops team are meeting with the staff of the contract that SB claimed we hadn’t yet been awarded. There are group meetings and days and days booked of 1-2-1s. The icing on the cake was this morning when I received the Job Description for the remaining post that SB has been saying he was looking at, ie Yvonne’s, which thus far he hadn’t had the balls to put in the new structure chart. Other than tweaking the job title, it looks as if Yvonne could almost have written it herself. Funny that. I’ve been told I can apply for it. Part of me thinks I should, just for the hell of it. However, the sensible side of me thinks it would be that – another little piece of hell; the outcome is predetermined, there is no way he would put me in the post instead of Yvonne, who pretty much runs him, so what is the point of playing along with their little game?

My follow up 1-2-1 is tomorrow. I think I might stick with my plan of identifying and naming spades as spades. It’s more satisfying, and the outcome will be the same. Luckily, I’ve got loads of holiday left, and so this week should be my last week. And I can’t wait a) for the charade to be over, b) to never have to set foot in the same room as Yvonne, Sandra or SB again (unless we go the whole hog on a Tribunal, but that would be a while away), and c) to concentrate on finding somewhere new, somewhere where I can be supported and stretched and, maybe, just maybe, recognised for what I can contribute to an organisation. I think somewhere with organisational integrity would be a pretty good starting point, too.

From Freeze Frame to Re-Frame

I had felt completely frozen at the prospect of a meeting where I was to be told, effectively, thanks but no thanks. Overtones of hibernation were creeping up on me, pulling me under again. I was snappy with the Offspring, absent when it was just Spouse and me. Then I made myself sit in front of a notebook and found stuff poured out of me. Stuff like, how can you have a smaller HR team when staff numbers have doubled? If the motivation for this is genuinely financially led, where does the recent contract of a value of more than 10x what you say you need to save fit into the picture? Just exactly how much does removing me and Lovely Colleague actually save? Why is no other senior manager or their team affected? At best, this is pre-determined. More likely, it is victimisation in response to my grievance. Chronologically, it follows my reference to migraine levels as a disability. None of these are legitimate motivations for a redundancy selection, and all of them are what I am employed to challenge, prevent and coach managers away from.

I listed all of these questions and possible outcomes, and felt much better. In the way that you feel better after emptying the contents of your stomach when you feel sick; I didn’t feel completely fixed, but the “stuff” wasn’t churning around my head like a mental washing machine stuck on superwash.

Fixed Term Colleague came with me to the meeting. Perhaps because she was there, perhaps because her wise words had led to me planning out what I wanted, what I needed, to say, possibly because I am confident that they are doing something that needs to be stood up to; whatever the reason(s), I felt calm. Shit Boss waffled about the background to his decision, sorry, proposal. Fixed Term Colleague wrote everything down. I asked the questions I’d planned. And then focused on the elephant in the room; I was being removed because I’d stood up to bullying.

Fixed Term Colleague pointed out afterwards that every time he didn’t like my question, he began his reply with an irritated “Now, listen,” and used my name which he otherwise never does. I hadn’t noticed at the time, but in the notes of the meeting, it is quite distinct. He didn’t like me asking about the new contract – there’s a difference between being awarded the contract and actually contracting, apparently. He didn’t like my question about the message it gives to staff to keep a newly hired painter and decorator rather than the longest serving HR Director the organisation has had. This record is set at only 4 years, which perhaps says everything I need to say on the subject. He didn’t like the elephant being discussed, at all.

Following the meeting, and although he took no notes at all, he said he would produce the minutes of the meeting. As I had my colleague’s contemporaneous notes, and a lot I wanted to ensure was recorded in case future reference to them is required, I “kindly” typed them up, and forwarded my version to him, to save him the trouble. Then, as an afterthought, I did what I would recommend a client to do in the olden days when I was someone else’s lawyer; I submitted a data subject access request.

Essentially, this is a request under the Data Protection Act to have copies of everything that refers to me, or my role, whether it is meeting minutes, emails or even texts. There is a 40 day time limit for complying, and again, to be helpful, I explained when this will be up. Of course, I wouldn’t do this normally. But right now, from where I’m sitting, I don’t see that I’ve got anything to lose. And if they’ve got anything to hide, I’d quite like to see it.

I am angry, yes, but I am being forced to go, not on my terms. This is a rejection, and like any rejection, it hurts. Even if “out” is the best place for me. I am booking all the training I can lay my hands on at the moment, and last week, I went to a fantastic seminar/workshop run by an Inspirational Trainer. One of the exercises we did was to compare what the organisation we work for looks like now in terms of rigidity of rules, staff engagement, fixation with money and room for creativity. We then had to compare it with how we would like it to be in 2 years’ time. My comparative diagrams were diametric opposites; Inspirational Trainer suggested, firmly, that it was probably time for me to leave (the organisation, not the seminar, luckily). Fortunately, I am leaving. Unfortunately, it is on their terms and whether or not I have something to go to.

After the workshop, Inspirational Trainer generously gave up some of his free time to listen to me outline the current situation. One of the things that has stopped me wanting to leave is the feeling that I have failed. It is not a great place to work; part of HR’s remit is to improve the employees’ experience of where they work; therefore, I have failed. He turned this around and reframed who is at fault. I have tried. They failed to support me, they failed to allow me to succeed. They have failed me.

This certainly helps on a personal level. And once I have left, I know it will give me a narrative of this part of my life that I can live with. All that is left is to find the new project. As I used to tell my clients, redundancy is a new opportunity. The opportunity to take stock, think about what you want to do, and move towards that goal, a goal of your choice.

I know it won’t necessarily be easy, and Joe Simpson’s “small steps” methodology is very much in my mind. He succeeded in an impossible journey against ridiculously high odds by looking not at the entire trek back to base camp, but by focusing on the next rock, and getting there. I wonder how he knew which direction to set off in though; that’s my first hurdle. The security and frustration of being a Wage Slave, the challenge and risks of being slightly more master of my own destiny in Freelancing, or the bright and shiny and seemingly insurmountable dream of Being Published, which like all distant shiny things, probably looks completely different close up.

Those people who know what they want to be when they grow up, they are so very lucky.

ESOCs and fables

So I know the theory – redundancy is unsettling. It stands to reason. Most of us identify ourselves to a greater or lesser extent by what we do. If the prospect of having part of your identity removed looms large, it has to affect you. And it is bound to feel personal, though of course in theory it isn’t. I now know both the theory and the practice; it does feel personal: 100%.

I also know the theory that if you stand up to bullies, you get picked on. If they don’t make you walk away yourself, through ill-health or simply not taking crap any more, they will orchestrate a situation to get you out. Yeah, thought I, but not these guys. I’ve stood up to them, I’m tougher than that. I’ve survived. And in reality, surely no one is as blatant as that. I mean, they must know what it would look like. I just need to carry on doing my job professionally, and they’ll come round to valuing me.

Before I returned to work, in the strange half-said verbal dance Shit Boss specialises in, he threatened that if I came back, things would get tough. The financial climate for our organisation is challenging, this is true. But Shit Boss is taking the opportunity to make it Pay Back Time. We have been looking at restructuring (again). The organisation is slipping into loss-making for the first time in its history, so cuts need to be made. I’ve provided costings, restructuring ideas, and even a plan that would have avoided any redundancies at all and still made the necessary savings; but no, none of these were acceptable (I assume none of them were, as none were implemented as far as I know, although I never had any feedback one way or the other).

Then out of the blue, I am called to Shit Boss’s office for a quick word. My lovely colleague, who walked into the Lion’s Den with me, and walked into the office with me the day I returned to work, is top of the Shit Hit-list. She is called into a confidential meeting, at which she is told she is at risk. She asks who else is, and is told that the whole of the senior team is. She and I are discussing this, when Shit Boss asks me into his office, and asks me to prepare redundancy calculations for the whole of SMT. I clarify whether this includes me, it does. I clarify if it includes him, and he nods uncomfortably – I took this as a sign of being genuine; I now assume it was because he’s a Shit Liar also.

The Finance Director and I had met with him before, and he had said that removal of Yvonne’s post was a “done deal”, a PA being a luxury in a time of austerity (his words). At last, I thought, he is cutting out the infected wood, and leaving room for the good stuff to grow and flourish. How foolish and naive I am. The need to respect the person I work for, to feel that I am part of something worthwhile, has meant that I have given Shit Boss the benefit of too many (turns out, well-founded) doubts.

At all of our meetings, there has never been any discussion that my team are at risk. Suddenly, yesterday, I am asked for up-to-date addresses so that he can formally write to everyone; my address is there, the colleague who supported me, and my team are all there. No one else’s teams. There will apparently be an explanation of the roles it is envisaged will remain at head office (though he couldn’t outline what would be in it then and there, at the meeting telling me mine would not be), and all affected individuals will be free to apply for any they consider suitable. In a fit of whatever the opposite of naivety is, I predict whatever any of my team, my colleague and I go for, we will not be selected. In fact, I assume we are the selection criteria, around which the roles will be moulded.

I realise this is an Angry Post – the Erratic Scattering Of Capitals (ESOC) is a very obvious symptom; however, it is one thing to play games with me, and cause me to fight for what I believe in – that was, to my mind, part of the role as an HR Director. But to involve others, whose only “wrongdoing” was supporting someone they believed was doing the right thing, there’s a word for that; VICTIMISATION. I wouldn’t tolerate victimisation from any of our managers, and yet Shit Boss, who dared to preach to me about being whiter than white, seems comfortable enough picking on people a lot littler than he is.

What we look for in our leaders are certain values that we can align with and respect. Are they being fair in how they treat people? Are they honest? Are they acting with integrity? We are a charity; our raison d’etre is to look after the well-being of others. I have predicted its demise before – I am now certain it will not last. The crime is that the people who will lose out the most are the people who most need to be helped.

The wait of indecision

After weeks of waiting, and a gentle prod of a reminder, the response to my lawyer’s setting out of my claims was “no thanks, we’d rather not”. Ok, I paraphrase. They have decided not to negotiate. Their lawyers have sent the message that they see no claim they could not successfully defend. The Boss had indicated that an amicable arrangement was possible, they have bought people off at the drop of a hat up until now, so I was rather dismayed.

Not only that, but their response included the very strange denial that the independent neutral assessor had been as a result of my raising concerns about bullying. Given that chronologically the one followed the other, that it followed my suggestion of three options to deal with the issues I had raised, one of which was an independent investigation, and finally given that I had the power of veto over who was assigned the investigation (which I exercised over their first choice), it seems an extraordinary thing to deny.

The trouble is standing up to them again is going to cost; financially and emotionally, and they know it. Under the new fees regime, it costs to bring a claim even without legal fees. Whilst it is reaffirming to have someone you’ve never met set out all the ways in which you have been wronged, at £1,500 a letter, I can’t afford such a luxury when I’m at the end of my half pay sick pay, which is less than the lawyer’s letter, with the prospect of no further income coming in until, well who knows.

So I have the dilemma of finances over feelings. The sensible thing to do financially is to go back, staggered return and all that, put up with the crap again until another position becomes available. If another position becomes available.

If heart rules head there is no question. Going back will be horrific. First world horrific, of course, not like anything truly horrific of a kind we are lucky enough to only read about. But still soul shreddingly hard to bear.

Financially, I’ve never been a gambler. I am cautious, frugal often. The idea of walking away from a salary without another one even on the horizon, with kids to clothe and feed, and lawyers to pay is terrifying. I could walk away without having lawyers to pay, but tackling them myself seems even more daunting. Lawyer has suggested a meeting, but even this involves a decision and a financial outlay.

Joe Simpson was a climber who got into the direst of scrapes; broken leg at the bottom of a crevasse, left for dead by his climbing partner. Touching the Void describes his tortuous and inspiring journey back to base camp, and has an underlying message for tackling the overwhelming challenges life throws our way. Instead of contemplating the vast impossibility of climbing out of the ravine and crawling the several miles back to camp, he set himself individual challenges; setting on a rock on the edge of achievable distance, and working towards that. Then finding the next landmark and working toward that.

A truly inspiring resilience and an incredible philosophy for dealing with life’s trials and tribulations; when the going gets tough, put the bigger picture, the one that overwhelms you, to one side and break it down into manageable chunks. However, before deciding which rock to go for, there is the decision of which direction. I’m currently struggling to work out in which direction that first rock lies.

Mediation

And it goes like this:-

I meet with the mediators (there are two of them), they meet with Yvonne whilst I go away and think about what I want to say in the joint meeting, then we both meet with the mediators; I speak, she speaks, we all speak. Simples.

And it went like this:-

I met with them. They were both very professional, and gentle, and one of them was a fellow former solicitor. Fellow former employment solicitor to be exact. I rambled. Even saying it all out loud, it still sounds so trivial each and every incident. But that’s the point, I suppose. There are so many little things, that’s how it has gone on for so long. Big things will show up on the radar, little things stay under.

I rambled so much that I couldn’t help wondering if the mediator who sat with her fingers on her mouth was doing so to keep in laughter. Eventually, I ran low on ramble (don’t think it would ever run out; ‘and another thing’ is forever popping up before I’ve finished the one I’m currently voicing). Having spouted, the mediators asked me what I thought I might like to say to Yvonne. That shut me up. Not because I had nothing to say. Because I had so many things, I wasn’t sure were to start, or how to say them.

I then went away, put all the things I wanted to say on paper, ordered them, vaguely. Then I added the finishing touches; I quoted sections from www.bullyonline.org. Not my words, or my paranoia, but neutral, third party conclusions drawn from years of experience.

Armed with what I wanted to say, I returned. Palms sweating, bladder in overdrive, adrenalin shakes all over, I entered the room, with a casual “hello Yvonne”. Body language speaks volumes. Just as it was loud and clear that I was anxious, it was as loud and as clear that Yvonne did not want to be there.

So, the process of taking turns at uninterrupted speaking clarified, we were asked who wanted to go first. I did have not the upper hand, exactly, but certainly the prepared hand. So I volunteered and off I went.

I started with an ad lib about appreciating what it must have taken for Yvonne to be there, acknowledging that it was a courageous thing to do, I then told her that I felt she had bullied me, what form I felt this had taken and asked her to stop.

Forewarned is forearmed. The books and websites give a list of predicted responses. Firstly denial. Then it will be turned back on you, the target, “actually everything you said, I have felt about you”. There will be a persistent insistence on not wanting to dwell on the past, wanting only to move forward. Finally, the “poor me, have you any idea what it’s been like for ME?” We got them all. Totally textbook. So I said this to her. I pointed out that with everything I said, I could and did give examples. I asked her to explain to me what I had done to make her feel this way. She couldn’t.

The bottom line is that it is unlikely Yvonne will ever acknowledge that her behaviour amounted to bullying. She will probably continue to twist and distort what I say. But I know what she is doing. I have a label and I have used it to her face. I know what to expect. And that alone has shifted the power away from her.

I have not made it up. It is not me that is at fault. I am not causing it. I hear the distortions fed back to me and know where they came from, and that they are not true. And…

And the best part is that I will have a new office. And Yvonne and Sandra are moving to the other end of the building. They will no longer physically dominate the open office. Whatever else happens or doesn’t happen, it cannot be the same again.

In short, I have been heard.

Always The Way

It is every bit as bad as I feared. The uphill fight has got steeper, just when I had momentarily allowed myself to think that the worst might be over. The books warned me, but unless you go through it, you can’t imagine it’s really going to happen to you. It seems so ludicrous. So cliched.

On the other hand, I suppose it’s obvious. One of the predictable dangers in standing up to people who are adept at twisting the truth, ganging up against you and casting you in a negative light is that they will continue to do what they are good at, just with a wider audience. It will get set down on paper which will make it true, though of course you can select the parts you want to consider as true.

Because the report has 16 different references to bullying and behaviours that amount to bullying, I felt relieved for a while; someone had heard me. However, despite those 16 references, the Trustees somehow have managed to read it without concluding that there has been bullying in the workplace! In a note of a meeting with 2 Trustees, it says the report refers to unacceptable behaviour “which in her [my] view constituted bullying” as if it were unreasonable and they couldn’t understand how I could possibly have concluded such a thing, or at the very least, that there is room for doubt!

And most galling of all, although the report refers to this as being the behaviour of long serving employees, those who served under the previous scape goat, I mean CEO, which I did not, I am the only one with personal recommendations. I am the one whose behaviour needs looking at. I need to learn how to listen, need to think about how others might react to what I need to say, how I might need to explain the context. No specifics, mind, so my request for examples was repeatedly met with the refrain about not going over the past. All these things that I have being trying to get Sandra and Yvonne to do are thrown back at me so that they get to walk away unscathed.

And just as I thought it couldn’t get worse, in discussion today, the Trustees let slip that they have had fed back to them BY THE ASSESSOR not only that I shout at people, but also that I throw things!!!!

This neutral assessment is all very well, but it has concluded things that have been said about me without me having any right to give my version of events. I’m not sure that that is an entirely fair way to go about things.

I must keep reminding myself of the words of Mahatma Gandhi quoted in Fighting Back; overcoming bullying in the workplace by David Graves, which has been one of my bibles over the last few months;
“When I despair, I remember that all through history the way of truth and love has always won. There have been tyrants and murders and for a time they seem invincible but in the end they always fall – think of it, ALWAYS.”

Tell that to the Palestinians, the Syrians, the Ukranians, the Iraqis. I hope with all my being that he is proved right.

World class bullies

If a large man were strangling a smaller man, only an entrenched bully would have the gall to complain, “hey, but the small man won’t stop hitting me. I’m only strangling him because he’s hitting me. Make him stop hitting me, then I’ll be safe to stop strangling him”.
The Israeli government are classic bullies. They twist everything to justify their power trip. If challenged for bombing a school – a school??? – they turn the blame onto those who were hit – they were sheltering weapons there, or terrorists, or even suggesting it was Palestinians themselves.
This isn’t intended to be a political blog but when bullying is ongoing on the world stage, it is impossible not to get frustrated with the warping and distortions that may have once had a grain of truth, which gives them a foothold to be credibly twisted, repeated and then ultimately believed. It is easier for all of us at a distance if it’s not black and white, if they’re as bad as each other. But 800 civilians versus 2? 33 of the 35 Israeli casualties were soldiers.
If the Israelis really were sorry for killing so many innocent men, women and children, they could stop doing it. They could say that their current tactics aren’t working, acknowledge that they have a responsibility for the consequences of their actions, and change those actions. Merely saying the words, but justifying them with “the small man started it” and then doing the same thing over and over again isn’t really being sorry. Anyone who has small children can recognise this type of defensive friction. The difference is that small children aren’t credited with having the emotional and intellectual capacity required for an adult conscience. Culpability doesn’t begin legally in this country until a child is 10. On the other hand, it begins at 10. I don’t think any of the Israeli government are under that age.
Standing up to bullies starts when enough people call a spade a spade, or a bully a bully. Before I get accused of antisemitism, I am not blaming all Jewish people, not all Israelis, for what the Israeli state is doing; that would be ludicrous. However, I am happy to stand up and say that I am anti the Israeli government because I am deeply, committedly, personally anti bullying.

Hitting the fan

Ok, so that might be an exaggeration. Or not. It’s hard to tell when you’re not actually there, though it can also be just as hard to tell when you are.
Radio silence since I ‘launched’ my email of truth (it does feel more significant than the gentle click on the send button that it actually was). The only reaction, if you can call it that, is that I have received notification that my password (which gives me access to the ‘exchange’ for my work emails) is no longer valid.
There are three possible explanation, as far as I can see.
1. The timing is pure coincidence and my password, which regularly needs changing, expired the day after I wrote to the Boss.
2. The Boss and/or Yvonne have decided they need to have access to my emails during my absence to check that nothing is missed. Funny how it wasn’t important during the previous 7 days’ absence, though. Not even when I informed the Boss, 2 days ago, that I had been signed off for 2 weeks.
3. The gloves are off. The meaning between the lines has been understood, and they are going to fight this.
I have waves of panic that I have started something that is bigger than me. This is not only no longer within my control, but it could easily escalate out of control in a way I hadn’t imagined. Naive? Paranoid? The only thing that is certain is that I have to wait. And waiting can be torture, even with a semi-active imagination.