NEWSFLASH:  check out AA’s take on City Survial tactics in Legal Week: http://www.legalweek.com/legal-week/blog-post/1565167/city-assistant-survival-guide 

So the “Associateship Assessments” are over and Tarquin is confident that he will be promoted.

“It’s a foregone conclusion that I shall be a Senior Associate,” he tells Liz, “I am, by far, the best candidate in the team. It’s just a matter of time before I’m invited to the partnership table.”

“It must be nice to have such a high level of self confidence,” I muse.

“Even if it is misplaced,” sniffs Jane.

Liz and Alex are less hopeful of their performances.  Neither received Miranda’s mysterious “business plan” memos and, like me, both were hijacked with hostile questioning.

“She asked me what I thought about The Human Rights Act,” Alex tells us.

“Really?  What has that got to do with working at CWS?”

“Nothing,” he laughs. “It doesn’t apply here.”

“So, what did you say?”

“That it was a pity the provisions about slavery and forced labour were so often abused in law firms.”

“You didn’t!” we are agog at his bravery.

“I did.  As a joke!  Well, not really a joke, more of a satirical comment, but you know what I mean?”

 We do.  But did they?

“How did they react?”

“Malcolm agreed with me.  The Boss looked at me as if I was mental and Miranda said that I should think about the poor Africans sent to the cotton plantations and consider whether I should retract my comment.”

“Miranda has a social conscience?” I scoff. “I don’t believe it.”

“Of course she hasn’t!” he shakes his head. “She was just using that ‘think of those worse off than you’ trick.  She had to resort to the transatlantic slave trade to find an example!”

Which says a lot.  

But is seems that we got off lightly, in comparison to poor Liz, who had to suffer the indignity of explaining why she was, “under target and under budget”. 

“Because, I told them, I had almost all of the last two months preparing presentations for Miranda!”

“I bet she loved that.”

“She gave one of those silly little laughs and said I should still be able to fit my fee earning activities around ‘a little bit of research’.”

“I said that might be the case if it was a ‘little bit of research’ but since she’s had me review the entire history of banking regulation followed by a round up of all insolvency law since The Romans, I would only be able to do both if I had the ability to time travel!”

We can just imagine the look on Miranda’s face as her lip-glossed mouth contorted into silent fury.

“How did she take that?” Alex asks.

“She said that it was a pity that I couldn’t.”

“I bet she can,” he laughs, “How else is she able to look like a 30 year old in a 45 year old’s body?”

“Surgery,” we all say at once. 

Jane also got a grilling, but is, as ever, completely unperturbed about impressing the management.  

“They asked me asked to list my greatest achievements at CWS,” she laughs.

“What would they be?” Liz flashes her a sceptical look.

“Uncovering Miranda’s affair with The Boss, thwarting Tarquin’s partnership pretensions and preventing Philip Carlton from molesting Helen.  But, when I tried to think of any I could actually offer them, I was stumped!”

“So what did you do?”

“I took a global view and said working here for eight years and not being sacked.”

In fact, this probably is her greatest achievement.

“What was the response to that?” Alex laughs.

“Hearty agreement from The Boss, sympathy from Malcolm and contempt from Miranda, who thought I was joking. ‘Why do you always have to make fun everything?’ she demanded.  I told her there was nothing funny about working here for eight years.”

Although, it is like performing in one long black comedy. 

Knowing, as I do, that the “appraisals” were all a great big sham, I assure them that nothing they have said will make the slightest difference to the eventual outcome; we are all still destined to be “promoted” to associates, regardless of our lack of achievements, abilities or accomplishments.

“Really?” Alex gapes.

I nod.   “I saw a memo on The Boss’s desk.  It’s just a big scam to enable them to charge more for our time.”

“What a bunch of bastards!” Jane declares.  “Fancy making us go through that whole charade when they were planning to promote us all along.”  Then, she peers at me. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“In all honesty?  I forgot.”

“Well, thanks a lot!” she erupts. “Remind me to ‘forget’ the next time I hear something important!”

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “I wouldn’t have bothered revising, it I had known.”

“You revised?” We stare at him in amazement.  

“Yes.  Didn’t you?”

“No.”

“What did you revise?”

“The Civil Procedure Rules,” he explains. “I thought they might be important.”

This statement is funny for so many reasons; it’s a race to make the first quip. 

“That would presuppose that your interviewers know anything about them!” Jane gets in first.

“Since when have they had any bearing on our job?” Liz follows her.

“And what bearing do they have on your ability to lord it over subordinates?” I add. “The whole point of promotion is to leave the law to those less qualified than you.”

I’m quite proud of that last sentence.   It could almost become the new partnership slogan…..

“It was a moment of madness,” he concedes. “A flashback to when interviews and examinations counted for something……”

The good old days.  Before he started working in The City.

So, while we all await the results of our imaginary assessments, matters are progressing apace in the Christmas Party stakes.  Melinda sashays back from one of her marathon (lunchtime) shopping expeditions with two designer dresses and a pair of Jimmy Choos.  

“How the hell did she afford those?” Jane hisses, as she displays her wares to the typing pool.

“Overtime?” I shrug.

“What overtime? She never does any.”

“Since when has that been a bar to a claim?”

“Never in our department,” I admit.

“But, really,” she persists. “She would have had to claim about three hundred hours to afford all that.”

She’s right.  Even for Melinda (Mistress of Overtime Fraud) that’s a lot of deception.

“Do you think she’s sleeping with one of the partners?” she suggests.

“Possibly.” I reason. “Though, unlikely; if she’s as lazy in that department as she is in every other.”

This makes Jane hoot with laughter.  “Bound to be!”

She is just about to make some sort of indecent remark when Tarquin appears.

“Something funny?” he sniffs.

“Yes!” she agrees, still amused.

“I would be grateful if you could keep it to yourself.  I am trying to work.”

“How is my amusement stopping your work?”

“By manifesting itself as a loud, unattractive snorting sound.”

“You mean the sound of laughter?” she exclaims. “Have you never heard it before?!” 

This makes her laugh even more.  He lets out a long, irritable sigh and retreats to his room.

“Does he know that promotion is a great big con?”  She watches him go. 

“I haven’t told him about the memo, if that’s what you mean.”

A malevolent light goes on in her eyes….. 

“Come on,” She darts into her office and gestures for me to follow suit.   I find her at her desk typing furiously on her keyboard.

“Strictly Private and Confidential. 

Following the recent appraisal process and consultation with the Management Board, it has been decided  that the litigation assistants will be ”graded” into the following bands:

Helen Bailey: Associate

Jane Black: Senior Associate

Jack Cunningham: Associate

Dominic Chan:  Assistant

Clare Dawson: Assistant

Robert Kahn: Assistnat

Liz Kennedy: Associate

Olivia Harwood:  Assistant

Simon Short: Senior Associate

Maria Simons:  Assistant

Alex Spicer: Associate

Pavel Stavrou: Assistant

Daniel Turner: Senior Associate

Tom Trewin: Associate

Siobhan Wallis: Assistant

Tarquin Winkworth: Associate

She has promoted herself, Simon and Dan to ”Senior Associate” status, whilst Tarquin languishes in the lowly ”Associate” grade with Alex, Liz and me.  

“Why can’t I be Senior Associate?” I ask.

“Because he would never believe that,” she says simply.

Ignoring my disgruntled expression, she prints it out and then (checking to ensure that no one is around) mooches, casually, over to the other printer stationed outside Tarquins’ door, and deposits it in the tray.  

“Ask him to let you have a copy of the Litigation Bulletin,” she orders. 

“Why?”

She rolls her eyes. “So he has an excuse to print something out.”

“I’m not sure I want to, if I’m not impressive enough to be a Senior Associate.”

“Stop being ridiculous and get on with it.” she commands.

I dutifully return to my room and e-mail my request.  After an inquisition as to why I want it, (I lie and say Philip Carlton has requested a copy) he agrees.  Seconds later, he is standing by the printer with Jane’s memo, looking like he may burst into tears.

“Are you all right?” she asks him.

“Er, no, yes, er, I, er, can you give this to Helen?” he thrusts the brochure into her hand and stalks down the corridor -clutching her note - white as a sheet.

Poor love.

Jane is beside herself with glee. 

Knowing that she has upset Tarquin amuses her for the rest of the day, until an e-mail comes round from The Boss.  ”It has come to my attention that someone in this team may have taken it upon him/herself to predict the outcome of the recent appraisal process.   I can assure you that no decisions have been made and that any memos/notices/e-mails which are presently circulating are false.   I shall be investigating this matter in due course.”

“Tarkers went to see Simpering Veronica in Personnel, who told him it was a load of old cobblers,” Jane informs me. “But he wouldn’t believe her, so she rang The Boss…..”

An investigations begins, with The Boss interrogating everyone who might be implicated.

I am suspected because of my Litigation Bulletin request.  When quizzed, I explain that I wanted to send a copy of the Bulletin to PC. 

“Why on earth would you do that?” he exclaims. “He works for a competitor!”

“Yes, I know,” I nod, “but he is also a client and I thought he might be interested in the employment section.”

“School girl error Helen,” he shakes his head, “School girl error.   Never give the enemy our intelligence.”

“Sorry,” I make a mental note to murder Jane when I get back to my room. 

“Now tell me how this happened to coincide with Tarquin finding that note on the printer?”

“Unfortunate timing,” I shrug.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

He peers at me, “Only, you were seen, with Ms Black, just before she was spotted loitering around this area.”

“I was looking for a copy of the Bulletin; I thought she might have one.”

“But she didn’t?”

“No.  All the printed ones had been dispatched.  So I asked Tarquin for a copy.  He is the editor. He keeps the pdf.”

He seems relatively convinced by this story.   I am dismissed.

Jane is summoned next.  “I’ve decided to tell him the truth,” she informs me.  “This witch hunt is ridiculous.”

“Are you sure?  He seemed convinced by my Philip Carlton lie.”

“Yeah,” she nods. “If he wants to discipline me, he can.  I don’t care.  It was reward enough to see Tarquin’s scandalised face.”

The Boss is not prepared for her shock confession.  “I am not sure how I should react to this Jane.”

“May I make a suggestion?”

“Go ahead.”

 ”You should reprimand me for abusing company time, but applaud me for taking Tarquin down a peg or two.  I would not have felt the need to produce that memo had he not been so insufferably pompous to everyone.”

“It is not your job to discipline people,” he warns.  “You are not the office vigilante.”

Little does he know.

“But,” she argues.  “He is so arrogant and rude, and look at what a mealy-mouthed, tell-tale he is too?  That memo was headed “private and confidential” yet he took it straight to Personnel.  What if you had written it?  He clearly can’t be trusted.”

The Boss considers this.   “I should not have to police the actions of two of my most senior assistants.  You and Tarquin have got to learn to get on.”

“I can’t get on with everyone,” she shrugs.  “No one can.   It’s not natural.  Look at you and Rodney Smail in the Employment Team.”

“That is healthy competition!” he roars. 

“Same thing.” 

The Boss thinks Smail is irritating little twit and he thinks The Boss is a scheming, devious toad.  The comparisons are remarkably similar.

“I’m not here to discuss my relationship with other partners,” he snaps. “I’m here to decide what to do about the discord within my team.”

“Do what you always do,” she advises.

“And that is?”

“Encourage it.”

“I do not encourage you to go around upsetting other people.”

“Yes you do.   You actively play us off against each other so we all work as hard as possible to impress you.”

He is silent for a moment.  “Thank you for the insight into my management methods.  I suggest you return your office and make up for lost time.  I shall consider how I will deal with you later.”

She flumps back to her room and then e-mails us all to say she may not be here for very much longer.   We call an emergency lunch, to give her moral support.  Alex plies her with carrot cake, whilst Liz and I listen to what happened.

“He’s going to sack me, I’m sure,” she mopes. “Tarquin will have a tantrum and he’ll be forced to take action……”

“But, compared with some of the stunts you have pulled here, this is nothing,” Liz reasons.

“He doesn’t know about the others.”

“Perhaps not all of them, but he knows about your hijacking of the appraisal presentations and your campaign to avoid sharing an office with Dan.  And he turned a blind eye to all those awkward questions you ask in team meetings, and your behaviour at that client event.”

“Which one?”

“The one with the CS gas.”

“Oh yes,” her eyes sparkle for a moment and then cloud over again.  ”But this is different.  This will change things.”

And so it proves, when we return to the office to find our “promotion” envelopes on our desks.   A strangled wail is emitted from Jane’s room.  We rush to her aid.

“Are you ok?”  I rush in.

“No!” she points to the offending envelope.

With trepidation, I pick it up and extract the letter.

“Dear Jane, 

I should like to thank you for all your efforts over the years you have worked at CWS.   You have shown yourself to be a loyal, hardworking (although sometimes challenging) assistant solicitor; however, I must inform you that,  as a result of your appraisal, and our recent discussions, from Monday, you will no longer be employed in this role.”

“Oh no!” I gasp.

She shakes her head, piteously.  “Read on…”

“I have decided to promote you to the rank of “Senior Associate”, a position which will involve additional responsibilities and expectations, which will I shall discuss with you shortly.  I am hopeful that you will direct your prodigious talents for enterprise and initiative to your new position.

Yours sincerely,

Alistair King.”

“Blimey!”  I exclaim. “That’s great.”

“It’s terrible!” she wails. 

“What’s wrong?” Liz and Alex appear.

“Jane has been promoted to Senior Associate,” I inform them.

“Wow,  that’s fab!  We thought you were going to be sacked!”

“It’s dreadful!” she puts her head in her hands.  

Tarquin strides in to see what the commotion is all about.  ”Oh dear,” he sighs. “Are you destined to remain in Assistant Purgatory, Jane?”

“No!  It’s worse than that!”

“You’ve been sacked?”

“Worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than that?”

Nothing could be, in Tarquin’s world.

“I’ve been promoted to the same rank as you!”

“Senior Associate?” he pales.  “You are a Senior Associate?”

“Yes!”

“But how?  You are far less qualified than I am.”

“But she is much more mature,” Liz points out.

“We’ll see about that.” He turns on his heels and heads straight to The Boss’s office.

“Your confession seems to have had an unexpected effect.”

“I know! It’s all my fault.  I told him he should encourage healthy competition.   So that’s what he’s done: pitted me and Tarkers against one another.  Like gladiators!”

“To be fair, it isn’t really going to be much of a change…..”

“That’s no the point!” she gasps. “He’s done this to punish me.  He knows I hate Tarquin and he knows I hate figures of authority and now I am one!”

“He’s turned his worst poacher into his best game keeper,” Alex laughs.  “You have to admire his thinking.”

“But god help the rest of us,”Liz adds, “If Jane develops a taste for power……….”

“I will not develop a tast for power!” she fizzes. “I am at one with the workers.   I will never be like the Bourgeoisie!”

But, isn’t that what the Bolsheviks said?