‘You know why you’re here, Elizabeth.’
Three people sat on the other side of the desk, their expressions unfriendly. Her immediate superviser and two women without name lanyards. The younger one had a blue streak in her straggly hair.
‘No, Andy. Or should I say Mr Holmes. I have no idea why you asked to see me.’ Elizabeth laid slight emphasis on the Mr, since this was clearly a formal meeting of some kind. She had never warmed to Andrew Holmes.
‘Allaire was extremely upset. They had to take the afternoon off. Your words exacerbated their underlying anxiety issues.’ That was Blue Streak. Elizabeth reflected that if you were going to call attention to your hair, you should at least invest in a good haircut.
‘And you are…?’
Blue Streak bristled at the challenge. ‘Sam Winters. She/her. EDI.’
Oh! Interesting that the Equality, Diversity and Inclusion department made no mention of Liberty, Elizabeth reflected. Liberty, Equality and Fraternity had been a grand idea – until it led the French to the guillotine.
‘I’m sorry,’ she began in a mild tone. ‘Who’s Allaire? What did I say to upset him?’
‘Them. Please respect their choice of pronoun.’ That was the other woman, fiftyish, wearing a smart grey suit. ‘You questioned their mental health.’
The three waited.
‘If I have upset someone, I will apologise, face to face. But what am I supposed to have said?’
‘I sense hostility in that reply, Elizabeth.’ That was Andrew Holmes. He was not one to defend his staff.
Grey Suit intervened. ‘You sent a memo to all departments asking them to update the inventory of their office furniture.’
Elizabeth agreed. ‘It’s part of my job. I do it every year.’
‘And you added a comment on Allaire’s inventory, a negative comment on his mental health.’
‘What? How? All I do is forward the inventories to the supplies department. They decide what needs replacing.’
Elizabeth stared at her adversaries, bewildered. She could not begin to imagine what had gone wrong with such a simple task. ‘What do you mean? I told you, I don’t even know the guy.’
‘Please use gender inclusive language. Guy is not an appropriate word.’
Elizabeth drew a deep breath. ‘I do not know this person. I also do not know if this person is male or female. I used guy to mean both.’ Even Elizabeth, a stickler for grammar, admitted that ‘he or she’ was a clumsy formulation.
She should have kept her mouth shut. Blue Streak glared at her. ‘Gender-critical views are incompatible with the company’s ethos.’
‘Quite,’ Grey Suit sniffed. ‘Transphobic comments are only to be expected of someone who disparages the mental health of other employees.’ Grey Suit pushed a paper across the desk. One word was highlighted in yellow. ‘We have the evidence.’
‘Oh!’ Elizabeth exhaled her relief. ‘That’s sic, S, I, C, not sick. This is a silly misunderstanding.’
The faces remained hostile, so she tried again. ‘Sic is Latin. You learn it in secretarial training. It stands for thus it was written.’
Andrew Holmes sniffed. ‘Do you really think your secretarial training 40 years ago is relevant in a modern digital office? Latin! That’s dead as a dodo.’
Elizabeth tensed at the reference to her age. The younger generation was so bad-mannered. They didn’t realise they too would grow old one day. Yes, she was 58, but her pension would not be paid until she was 66. She needed a job until then, any sort of paid job. Although she wondered if this particular job was worth it.
She forced herself to remain calm. ‘I’m not aware of any modern alternative. You insert sic in brackets, like I did there, if the original text contains errors. Well, look at the way he filled in the form. List of shares, tables and other ferniture.’
‘Allaire’s native language is not English. The company’s equality, diversity and inclusion policy mandates that we make allowances.’
‘Allaire belongs to a minority group. Are you prejudiced against minorities, Elizabeth?’
The dual onslaught made her grit her teeth. No, I’m prejudiced against people who don’t speak proper English being paid twice as much as me. Aloud, she attempted to defuse the ridiculous situation. ‘I know a lot about prejudice, as it happens. My younger daughter is lesbian. I don’t often talk about her—’
‘Because you’re ashamed of her? Admit it, Elizabeth, you are a bundle of prejudices.’
‘I’m proud of my daughter,’ she snapped. What did these arrogant idiots know about the hurdles her daughter had overcome?
#
The interview panel were not to know that Elizabeth’s daughter’s partner Melanie was a lawyer. Only last month, Mel had moved into a new job specialising in constructive dismissal. People were suing their former employers, and winning considerable compensation, if an unpleasant atmosphere at work drove them to resign. Harassment and hurt feelings could be worth thousands of pounds, Mel had explained.
Elizabeth had an excellent memory. She gave the appearance of listening to the strictures of the interview panel, outwardly agreeing to attend a diversity course, inwardly noting their comments.
She would give them enough rope to hang themselves, and Mel would guide her. Already she envisaged her letter of resignation. A proper letter, impeccably typed, with no grammar or spelling mistakes.
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