Dear Ms Bailey,

Thank you for your recent letter.  “

 I was somewhat bemused to read that your client’s have no wish to see me leave their employment feeling ‘aggrieved’ or ‘unhappy’.   It is difficult to envisage how this could be achieved, given their completely unjustified decision to make me redundant, not to mention the years of systematic abuse I suffered at the hands of one of their, so called, “partners”.  In the circumstances I can only conclude that they must have been advised that they are going to lose the claim I am bringing against them and that you have, therefore, told them to pay me off and keep me quiet.

Whilst it is gratifying to know that my case has rattled them, I am sorry to disappoint you.   I am not prepared to compromise my principles for a cheap flirtation with monetary gratification.  

At least not for the paltry sum you are offering.

I shall continue my drive to expose Mr Carlton and highlight the cruel injustices suffered by assistant solicitors in City firms.   Thank you for boosting my confidence in my campaign.

With best wishes

Amelia Walker

I know I should not be impressed by a letter from an opponent, but this one is worthy of a Pulitzer Prize.   It is the sort of letter I dream of writing to The Boss, who, of course, thinks it is the most outrageous affront to the his professional sensibilities.

“Who the hell does she think she is?!” he thunders.  “I have never received such an arrogant, insouciant letter in all my life!”

He may not have received one but he has certainly written plenty.

“She is only fighting her corner,” I point out.

“Like a bare knuckle wrestler!”

Says the man who only plays by The Queensbury Rules.

“We have dealt with more offensive opponents than Amelia.”

“Name one!”

“There was Mr Turner who threatened to garrot you with counsels’ ribbon.”

“He was a nutcase, you can’t use him!”

“All right then, what about Mr and Mrs Bains?”

“The Law Society dismissed their claims against me.  I was exonerated.”

“I know that, but surely an opponent who accuses you of assault is worse than one who refuses your first offer of settlement?!”

He thinks about this.  

“Perhaps you are right,” he concedes. “But she writes the most obnoxious letters.”

She hasn’t worked in a City law firm for nothing.

“All the more reason to pay her off,” I reason. “We wouldn’t want something like that leaked to a certain broadsheet.”

“That bunch of left-wing losers!” he snorts.

“Left wing losers who have a penchant for exposing City sleaze and corruption…… ”

“What are you proposing?” He eyeballs me.

“Upping the offer.”

“To what?”

“Forty.”

“Forty thousand!”

“I told Carlton it could cost more than that, if he really wants to get rid of her.”

“What did Carlton say?”

“He said no, but his Management Board seemed to prefer it to having all  their dirty laundry aired in public….”

He thinks about this for a moment and then peers down at me. “I hope this case hasn’t given you, and your cronies, ideas. Because, for the record: if I decide to sack any of you, you won’t get a penny out of me.  I will fight you to the death rather than pay you off.”

That’s a bit extreme, I think.  Although gladiatorial combat would be a lot quicker than wading through the English court system…..

Luckily, Amelia doesn’t have to worry about that, because I thank her for her helpful and enlightening letter; warn her that we are taking steps to ready our case for trial; inform her that we want disclosure of the steps she is taking to find other employment and increase her offer to forty thousand pounds.  

I wish someone would write a letter like that to me.

Meanwhile, the excitement of the appraisal process is hotting up.  In an effort to convince the management of his potential, Tarquin has taken to treating the rest of us as his lackeys.  

“I need a copy of the Carter file,” he tells Jane, who has the misfortune of working with him on one of the big cases.

“What did your last slave die of?” she asks.

“That was an order,” he advises. “Not an invitation to respond.”

“An order!” she explodes. 

“That’s what I said.” 

“Who do you think you are?!  How dare you speak to me like that?!”

“I dare.  Because, soon, you and I will be on different footings.”   He folds his arms and gives that tight little smile he gives when he is trying to be tough.

“Different footings?” she scoffs.  “You mean that I will be an associate and you will be a ‘senior‘ associate?”

“Precisely that.”

“And being a senior associate will allow you to behave like a complete kn*b?!” she demands. “I don’t think so!  The only person entitled to do that is The Boss!”

Unfortunately, for Jane, The Boss happens to be outside as she says this.   With a flick of his eyebrow she is summoned, unceremoniously, into his office for a dressing down.

The secretaries practically fall over themselves to listen in.  Danielle presses her ear up to the lock and mouths snippets back to the others in relay.

“You think I behave like a ‘complete kn*b’?” The Boss asks Jane.

“Well, if you want a completely honest answer,” says Jane, “then yes, you do.”

“Oh my god!  She’s dead!” gasps Melinda.

“No wait,” says Danielle.  “Listen.”

“But that’s not what I was trying to say.” Jane adds.

“Oh?” he replies.

“I was trying to explain that you, as our leader and better, are, of course, perfectly entitled to behave like a complete kn*b , if you want to, but Tarquin, as our peer and equal, is not.”

“Good recovery,” hisses Lynnette.  

“I see.” The Boss continues. “So, tell me, what is Tarquin doing which is so offending you?”

“He is bossing me about.”

“As opposed to you bossing him about?”

“Well, yes!”

“It’s not very nice to get a taste of one’s own medicine is it?”

“No response.”

“Well?”

“No.”

“That’s settled then.  I suggest you apologise to Tarquin and get back to your work.”

“Apologise!”

“Yes.  I will not tolerate any abusive behaviour from members of my team.”

This last statement causes widespread mirth.

“He saves that pleasure all for himself!” cackles Danielle, making herself tumble sideways onto the carpet, just as Jane is ejected from his office.

“Having trouble finding your desk?” she hisses, as Danielle (still on the floor) pretends to be fastening her shoe lace.

“I’m having trouble with my boots,” she mumbles.

“If you don’t get back to your desk, you will have trouble with mine!”  With a menacing flick of her ankle, she sweeps past her and heads for Tarquin’s room. 

Danielle pulls a face as she storms towards the door.   Tarquin is sitting, quietly, behind his desk.

“I’m sorry for calling you a complete kn*b,” she bursts in.

“Apology accepted, ” he says, without looking up.

“Next time, “Jane says quietly, “I’ll get it right, and remember that you can’t be a complete kn*b because you haven’t fully matured!”

No one can quite believe she said that.  There is a brief pause and then peels of laughter from the assembled audience.   Tarquin’s face is a picture of astonishment, horror and fear.

He picks up his fountain pen and waves it at her. “I shall thank Alistair for your apology.  I am sure he will be pleased to hear that you have shown such remarkable humility.”

“Pah!” Her eyes with blaze anger and contempt.  “Do your worst!   I shall never take orders from you!”

She turns round and blazes back to her room.

Liz, Alex and I give her a wide berth for the rest of the morning, but when we catch her later, she is remarkably good spirits.

Too good.

“What’s up with you?” Alex asks. “You look like the cat who got the cream.”

She reaches into her drawer and extracts an official-looking document: Tarquin’s Appraisal Form.  

“How on earth did you get that?” he snatches it from her grip.

“He should be more careful with his copying requests,” she smirks. 

“Oh my goodness!  This is hilarious.”

“Let me see,” Liz leans over to get a better look.

‘Demonstrated Initiative:’  Alex reads. 

‘I am known for my ability to ”think outside the box” .  I apply this to my cases and my extra curricular activities.   For example: In response to a lack of quality and consistency with our ball point pen supplies, I have been influential in implementing a change of stationery products. “

“That’s partnership potential, isnt’ it?  Getting Jeannette to change the biros!”  Alex’s eyes sparkle mirth.

“That’s not the end of it,” Jane laughs, “He has set up a recyling committee to do away with unwanted Law Society Gazettes’ and he’s been influential in establishing the Pro Bono programme…”

“What?  That was Helen’s job.”

“Plagiarism is an essential part of the partnership programme, remember.”

“And, what’s this?  He’s added a whole new section of his own: LEADERSHIP SKILLS.  That wasn’t in the brief.”

“Ah, but it demonstrates he can use his initiative…”

“LEADERSHIP SKILLS,” he reads.

“Certain personal qualities  are required to elevate an individual from an ”indian” to a “chief”. 

“Greed, ruthlessness and the ability to terrify one’s colleagues?” Liz cuts in.

“‘Drive, ambition and the ability to win respect from one’s colleagues,’ according the Tarkers.” Jane laughs. “He says he has these ‘qualities in abundance’.  He works the longest hours, bills the highest fees and commands fear amongst all his opponents.” 

This last statement is so ludicrous, we can’t help but laugh.  

“His leadership credentials are based on the fact that he was head boy at school, he contributes to his local philately magazine and he set up The Solicitors’ Chess Club”. 

“Head boy?” Liz guffaws.  “That was when he was 13 – at prep school”

“No!?”

“YES!  I have a friend who was there at the same time.”

This gives us all  another opportunity to laugh at Tarquin’s expense.   The pinnacle of his leadership ambition being twenty-plus years ago.

“You haven’t head the conclusion yet,” Jane recovers. “In short,’ he says, ‘I  am the most successful and experienced assistant in the litigation team and, as such, acknowledging me as a “senior associate” (and partner designate) should be a mere formality.”

“You have to love him,” says Alex. “He has such unfailing confidendence in himself.”

“He’s like one of those X-Factor auditonees who thinks he’s Frank Sinatra but sounds like Frank Spencer,” Liz adds.

“Yes!  Bless him.”

“Bless him?  I wouldn’t spit on him, after the way he spoke to me this morning,” Jane snorts.

“What are you going to do with this?” Alex asks her.

“Aside from adding it to my Tribunal Diary?  I’m not sure yet.   It depends what he decides to do about our little run in this morning…..”

He decides to report her to The Boss.

So she decides to photocopy his form and distribute it to every assistant in the team.  She does so secretly.   Then uses the resulting furore to complain that Tarquin has mental problems.

“He was head boy at the age of 13,” she tells The Boss. “Using that to justify promotion twenty years later, must be a sign of mental instabliity.”

“It was merely an example Jane,” The Boss tells her.

“Ah, but read the rest of it, he is clearly suffering from at least one identifyable syndrome: narcissistic tendencies, grandiose ideas, psychopathic overtones…..This letter has the hall marks of a serial killer, if you ask me.”

“Thankfully, Jane, I am not asking you.   What I am asking you, is why you and Tarquin are incapable of getting along?”

“He hates me.  I hate him,” she shrugs.

“Why do you hate him?”

“Because he hates me.”

“And why does he hate you?”

“You will have to ask him that.”

“I shall, but just supposing he didn’t hate you, you would get along?”

“Yes.  No!  Because he would still wear his trousers too high, suffer from obsessive compulsive disorder and think he is better than everyone else in the team.”

“And why does that annoy you?”

“Because he isn’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because I am!”

“Doesn’t that make you a narcissist with grandiose ideas and psychopathic overtones?”

“No,” she says, simply. “It makes me a Senior Partner in waiting.”