Boss’s hugs un­com­fort­able


ALL this talk of sex­ual preda­tors and sex­ual ha­rass­ment – es­pe­cially with what’s hap­pen­ing in Hol­ly­wood – brings back mem­o­ries for me.

My first job at the age of 16 (circa 1962), as a ju­nior sec­re­tary for a pub­lic­ity agent in the UK, was fraught with con­cerns.

The boss would give us girls a pay rise of five shillings per quar­ter – in­stead of a pound per year – just so that he could give us an overly-af­fec­tion­ate bear hug four times in­stead of once.

Oh, how we girls dreaded go­ing into his of­fice to say “Thank you for the pay rise, sir”.

This cer­tainly wouldn’t be tol­er­ated to­day. A lit­tle later, I worked for an en­gi­neer­ing com­pany and my of­fice was on the shop floor.

As a re­sult, I had to see all the gir­lie nude cal­en­dars on the wall ev­ery time I walked through.

One pos­i­tive thing I re­mem­ber was that the minute I walked on to the shop floor – usu­ally to take their or­ders for a ba­con and egg butty for morn­ing tea – not one man used any swear words. How times have changed. JEAN HAR­NEY High­bury

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