There is a rule in litigation which says that clients must entrust the retrieval of their documents to their most feckless office junior; provide him with no guidance as to which ones are relevant, but instruct him to throw everything into a dog-eared cardboard box and deliver them to us with absolutely no discernible way of identifying them.   It is common to all forms of litigation, except, it seems, employment claims……

Two weeks after her request Amelia’s documents are sent by recorded delivery in neat pink files with indices and helpful little dividers in between.  They even smell nice.   Which is certainly not right.

“I should be the one complaining!” huffs The Boss when I point this out.  “Their efficiency has cost us three days’ worth of work which I could have them charged for.”

Meaning: three days of me sitting on the floor of my office, covered in dust, sorting them into chronological order.  

“I’m not complaining about their efficiency,” I explain, “Quite the opposite, it is very helpful but it is not normal.”

“What’s normal?” he snorts.  “This is the first proper employment case we’ve done!”

“But it’s not the first case we’ve litigated.   I’ve been involved in hundreds and not once have I ever found the documents to be in date order, never mind colour-coded and tied with pink ribbon!”

“This is a law firm we are dealing with,” he points out, “Not some fly-by-night financial services team.” 

“But lawyers are usually the worst record keepers in the world,” I reason. “Look at Malcolm’s office.”

He turns round to see a scene which can only be described as a post-apocalyptic.  How Malcolm manages to work amidst the piles of papers, old clothes and rotting sandwiches I don’t know.  Jane reckons that of his old trainees is buried somewhere under the debris.

“I take your point,” he admits, turning back. “But these files were compiled by HR professionals not lawyers.”

HR Professionals.  I ponder.  Perhaps he’s right.  Maybe they teach them document management skills at Human Resources School. 

Putting my suspicion down to a lack of employment law experience I begin to read in but this only makes me more uneasy: not only have the documents been filed in neat little rows but they have also been redacted -  every single name (except Amelia’s) crossed out with a thick, black marker pen. 

“Very thorough,” I grumble to myself. 

Jane pokes her head round my door. 

“What are you moaning about today?” She asks cheerily.

“These documents,” I explain. “They are the cleanest, neatest files I have ever been sent by a client.”

“Let’s have a look.”

I thrust them towards her.   She flicks through, casting an astonished glance at the pink ribbon.

“Very odd,” she agrees, “Is this that employment dispute?”

“Yes.”

“I thought so!” she nods. “In that case, there is your reason.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone knows that Personnel files are routinely doctored.”

“Doctored?”

“Tampered with.  All firms do it,” she explains. “Especially law firms.”

“How do you know that?”

“Read John Grisham,” she advises. “Is there anything in there about her redundancy?” 

“No.” I admit.

“Then there’s your proof.   They’ve knobbled it.”

“But there are rules about these things,” I protest.

She lets out an enormous guffaw. “Bending rules is what law firms specialise in.  What you specialise in.  Numpty.”

“That’s as maybe,” I say prissily. “But we are expected to abide by The Professional Code of Conduct.  And, as far as I am aware, it does not permit us to knobble files.”

This just makes her laugh even more.    ”I love working with you.  You’re like an Enid Blyton heroine; upholding the rules and fighting the baddies with ginger beer and Eccles cakes!”

Irritated by Jane’s patronising attitude, I throw her out and march to the kitchen to find solace in caffeine.  Alex is making tea and Malcolm has escaped from his office to stir his syrupy tea and nibble on a Bourbon biscuit.

“Ah, Helen!” he smiles. “Just the person. We have another employment seminar lined up.  We’re doing a road show!”

“I’m not very excited by employment law at the moment, Malcolm.” 

“Oh,” his face falls, “Why not?”

“Because it’s all about championing the powerful at the expense of the weak,” I mumble. “The scales aren’t balanced.  It’s not a fair fight.”

“Ah,” he nods, “I see.”

“It’s hard to defend evil corporate giants against claims from down-trodden employees,” I continue, “if one is a down-trodden employee oneself.”

“Sadly, Helen, that’s the nature of the universe,” he sighs.  And then, placing a concerned hand on my arm adds.  “But, remember, it only takes one Rebel Fighter to disarm The Empire……”

“Star Wars,” Alex explains, when he’s gone. “It’s one of his big obsessions.”

“No?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “He goes to conventions as a Jedi.”

“A Jedi?”   Just when I think my workplace can’t get any weirder.  Malcolm thinks he’s Obi-wan Kenobi. 

“He has all the gear, apparently,”he nods  “And I hear that Tarquin has a penchant for Princess Leia outfits.”

“Every man under the age of fifty has a penchant for Princess Leia outfits,” I point out.

“But few of them look so good in side-plaits!”  

He makes herself laugh so hard at the thought of this, he almost chokes.     I have to slap him to regain consciousness.

Back in the real world, where demons are vanquished with Subject Access Requests, my browse through Amelia’s personnel file continues like a trip to Boots – calm, clean and just a little bit clinical.   There are no disgruntled e-mails, no whinging memos and definitely no mention of her being anything other than a perfectly ordinary, unremarkable, assistant.   

It is utterly unlike how my own file would be and a million miles away from what Jane’s would look like – replete with endless complaints about light bulbs, air conditioning, desk positioning and Tarquin. 

I make a call to the HR Assistant to check I have everything.  She confirms that, yes, that’s all, there is nothing else.  It’s not firm policy to retain redundant information.  Is that a pun, I wonder.

I am not convinced by her response and I don’t think Amelia will be either.  I send the files off to her fully expecting a stroppy letter in return.  

I am not disappointed. 

Dear Sirs,

Thank for your letter of the 15th May enclosing the results of my Subject Access Request.   Unfortunately, there appear to be a few discrepencies with its contents.  Firstly, it is missing all mention of my redundancy procedure; secondly,  my sickness record is absent and, thirdly,  the file contains copies of appraisals which bear no resemblance to those I had. 

Should your client wish to avoid a referral to The Information Commissioner, I expect these issues to have been addressed and rectified within seven days of the date of this letter.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely

Amelia Walker

It’s hard to avoid feeling pleased with her ballsy approach but, inevitably, The Boss doesn’t see it that way.

“Bloody cheek!” he snorts. “She’s implying that the file has been tampered with!”

“It  probably has.” I say it without thinking.

“That is libellous Helen!” he thunders.  “This is an international law firm; her supervising partner is a respected man,I can assure you that he is not in the business of tampering with evidence.”

“Sorry,” I mutter.

“So you should be.”    

Still, her letter gets me thinking and I decide to pay a visit to our own HR Department to make enquiries.

I arrive to find Veronica hunched over her desk, arranging pots of multi-coloured ink and talking to herself.  She looks up, flustered.

“Can I help you?” 

“As a matter of fact, you can,” I sit down.  “I would like to see my personnel file, please. ”

“Your personnel file?!” she practically jumps out of her skin.

 ”Yes,”I nod.

“Er……” 

“Don’t worry,” I reassure her. “I’m not making an official request.  I have a case where the content of a personnel file has become an issue.  So I thought I would see if I could have a look at mine, for perspective.”

“I see…..”

She doesn’t move.

“Is that a problem?”

“No, of course not, you have every right to see your file………” She agrees.  Pause. Fingers her scarf. “It’s just that there are certain processes which are required first…….”

“What processes?”

“You would need to make what’s known as a Subject Access Request and you would also have to pay a fee.”

“I don’t want a copy of it,”I smile again. “I simply want to see what it looks like.  There is no need for a formal request.”

She looks slightly pained. “I don’t think I can let you have it without speaking to Caroline.”

“Is that really necessary?” I press.  “Can’t you simply walk round to the cabinet in Caroline’s office and extract it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Another pause, whilst she thinks up a new lie. 

“The cabinets are locked and only Caroline has the key!” 

“The HR Director is the only one able to do the filing?” I push.

“Yes!” she nods.  I frown. “No!” she agrees.  “Of course she doesn’t actually do the filing. She has people to do that for her.  But she has to be there.  When it’s done, I mean.”

“She has to supervise the filing?” 

“Yes!”

Rubbish.  Caroline is far too self important to sully her hands with administrative tasks.

“It’s something like that,” she says, seeing my disbelieving look. “I don’t know exactly.  You will need to speak to her.” 

She stands up as if to make me leave.  But my interest has been piqued.  I am not going anywhere.

“Let me get this right,” I lean forward. “You are not allowed to access the files without Caroline’s involvement?”

“No,” she nods.

“So what do you do when she’s on holiday?”

She hasn’t thought of that. “We, er, I, er….it depends.”

“On what?”

“On how long she is away for.”

“Supposing she is away for a month?”

“She’s never been away for a month.”

“A fortnight then?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?!”

“Procedures change.  Anyway,  as I’ve said, I shall have to speak to Caroline and get to you.  So, if you would like to leave it with you I will let you know.”

She opens the door but I remain where I am.

“If I was to make a Subject Access Request,” I ask. ”What would you do?”

“I would process it, of course.”

“And what does “processing” entail?”

“Retrieving the file, removing any confidential information, copying it etc.”

She smiles and opens the door a little wider.  I remain in my seat.

“When you say ‘confidential information’, what, exactly, do you mean? ”

“Anything prohibited from being disclosed.”

“Such as?”

“It depends on the circumstances.”

“How?”

“Various ways.”

“Such as?”

I think she may strike me with one of her ink wells in a minute.  

“We have a duty to protect the identity of third parties.”

“Only where their identity is not known to the applicant.” I point out.

“Yes, well,” she grinds her teeth. “I would love to sit here and discuss this but, I am terribly busy this morning.   So, if you don’t mind, I must get on.   Next time, please make an appointment if you wish to speak to one of us.”

“An appointment?  To speak to Personnel?”

“It’s not a counselling service Helen.”

Clearly not.   Woe betide anyone who thinks Human Resources deals with actual Humans.

I return to my office, chewing this over in my mind.   Jane is waiting to see how I got on.

“So?” she asks.  “Did you get it?”

“No.”

“Not even a look at it?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Only Caroline, The Keeper of the Office Secrets, may allow me access.  She wasn’t there and, in any event, there is a very strict procedure.”

“Pah!” she snorts. “If Veronica had wanted to show it to you she could done.  Keeping it away from you is plain old concealment.  Pure and simple.”

“Concealment of what?”

“Anything they don’t wish you to see.”

“Such as?”

“Anything which could unhinge the balance of power.”

“This is Caroline and Veronica I’m dealing  with, Jane, not The Illuminati!”

She fixes me with her most knowing stare.   “The forces at work here are much more malevolent than them,” she warns.  “mark my words…..”

I don’t usually believe Jane’s conspiracy theories; not since she claimed that Barry had links to Al Qaeda; but the gnawing feeling in my stomach makes me feel she could be right:  Amelia’s files have been tampered with because that’s what law firms do, or, at least, law firms with The Boss and his mates as partners.

In a flash of inspiration, I type up two new letters: one to my client, seeking details of the documentary search carried out; and the other to Veronica, making a Subject Access Request for my personnel file.  

If it comes back smelling like Amelia’s I will have my answer.