Hanger, and other forms of modern rage
The most intimate job I’ve ever undertaken (and bear in mind that I’ve edited erotic writing) is when I worked as a PA. A good personal assistant is a confidante, a helpmate, a walking Filofax, an emotional prop, a bolsterer of ego, a guard-dog and, at times, a mind reader. You become a conduit between the top dog and the office and wider working world.
The relationship is uncannily like that of a well-matched spouse, as the whole arrangement won’t work unless you’ve got your work husband’s back.
At GQ magazine in the autumn of 1993, I became PA to the magazine’s Us-born editor, Michael Vermeulen, and was also answerable to his deputy, Angus Mackinnon. Michael was as loud, charismatic and insecure as Angus was measured, wry and at ease with himself. They were both appealing men in different ways and, like any halfway decent assistant, I aimed to please.
I kept Michael’s diary and his secrets, sending out three identical bouquets on Valentine’s Day to his various partners, and employing dexterous wangling when it came to his expenses. This level of complicity could not help but feel conspiratorial, and during the course of some boozy lunches I turned down a few half-hearted attempts to gain access to my bed.
‘I used to make tea for everyone in the team, just so I could brush his hand’
Michael wasn’t bothered – he simply turned his attentions to my flatmate.
Angus was a very different fish, and didn’t want much actual assistance. A very different sort of intimacy was struck, and since our office contact was daily and sanctioned it grew and grew. I used to make tea for everyone in the team, just so I could pass Angus a cup and brush his hand as I handed it over.
Magazine colleagues started noting how we were having intense conversations by the photocopier. By the time of the office Christmas party, we were an item. It was an office scandal, as he was 40 and tweedy and I was a mini-skirted 25-year-old.
A couple of months later, I was “let go” and told by Michael that things weren’t “working out”. But the job had worked out beautifully for me. I’ll have been married to Angus for 23 years this September. Rowan Pelling