- guardian.co.uk, Tuesday February 27 2001 00.00 GMT
- The Guardian, Tuesday February 27 2001
There was a time when I thought that, if workplaces could somehow be filled with invisible, lighter-than-air recording equipment, most of the cases that go to tribunals would crack open neatly like nuts (or like some kind of idealised nuts, not the ones you get at Christmas that spurt shards at you). Hours would no longer be spent arguing about exactly what someone said, or what tone of voice they said it in.
I don't think that any more. Take my case this week. The applicant's post-adolescent squeaky-voiced solicitor hurried up to me importantly in the tribunal hallway at the beginning of the week to announce that the applicant had taped the crucial interview with his manager at which (allegedly) a lot of intolerable bullying had gone on. This "bullying", the solicitor argued, justified the applicant's resignation. Did my employer client want to write him a big cheque?
Me: "Well, I guess I'd better listen to this tape."
Squeaky: "Oh, umm, well, actually my client can't lay his hands on it at the moment."
Me: "Why not?"
Squeaky: "He's mislaid it."
Me (mentally closing employer's cheque book): "Well, I guess we'd better fight it out then."
The thing was, I was finding it hard to visualise Mr Manager as a big bully. He was quite a small and wizened man, with a paunch which seemed to swill about beneath his shirt like a basketball and a somewhat depressing habit of discussing the Weightwatchers points attached to any item of food anyone might be thinking of consuming at lunchtime. But he didn't come across as a Mr Mean, and I've seen a fair few workplace bullies in my time, oh yes.
The tribunal, however, seemed to feel otherwise. A typical exchange as Mr Manager gave his evidence ran thus:
Mr Manager: "I was trying to raise the performance issues in a tactful and sensitive way with the applicant."
Tribunal chair: "But were you glaring at the applicant?"
Mr Manager: "Uh, I really don't think so."
Tribunal chair [writing note busily, no doubt along the lines of "witness unable to say was not glaring at applicant"]: "But you're not sure?"
My sinking feeling intensified on day three, when Squeaky strode up to me again to say that the applicant had at last found the tape of the interview. So off we went to a consultation room and listened to it.
It was full of Mr Manager saying things like, "I'm really sorry to have to raise this with you, Steve." And "Obviously we'll give you as much support as we can to improve your figures." All delivered in the same mild tones in which he'd been lecturing me daily about the evils of cheese. Squeaky and his client were looking at me triumphantly.
Me: "Well, I'm happy for you to play that to the tribunal."
And they did. The tribunal chair looked increasingly deflated. The applicant lost.
Moral: all the surveillance equipment in the world ain't going to put lawyers out of business.
• The author is an employment tribunal lawyer. This is an occasional column.
