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Friday 29th June, 2007 posted by City Girl
City GirlThanks to a generous client, I had a windfall this week – a gloriously thick envelope of vouchers from the yellow-bag haven that is Selfridges.

My attention to his portfolio hadn’t gone unnoticed or perhaps it was the “wily women ways” that I’d shamelessly employed to develop it. There was a ­moment, though, when I feared I might have blown it as I pushed him off after he attempted a garlicky after-lunch e­mbrace in the lift.

My euphoria at the thought of the pending shopping spree was short-lived, however, as I made the mistake of notifying my boss – as per company policy – about the “gift”. Sucking her teeth like Hannibal for chianti, she hissed, “fabulous, let’s shop”, and whipped the vouchers out of my hand.

In a flash we were cosied up in the back of a cab rac

Friday 22nd June, 2007 posted by City Girl
City GirlAll week the human resources manager has been whingeing about the BBC2 drama Sex, The City and Me. The HR manager in the TV film was portrayed as dripping in smug vitriol. Pretty accurate I’d say, but our HR manager has taken offence.

My boss was full of praise at how they managed to “get away with paying only £3 million in compensation” to the female fund manager who was stitched up after returning from maternity leave.

The HR manager has since told anybody who will listen that her preferred method of communication now is “face to face”. Her reasoning is something about “not getting caught out by illegal phone bugging”. She obviously doesn’t know about the Dictaphone that some bluffer super-glued to the underside of her chair months ago.

It was telephone recordings which proved to be the fatal evidence agains

Friday 1st June, 2007 posted by City Girl
City GirlThis morning, as I clutched a coffee in one hand and my handbag and laptop in the other, I was almost mown down on my way into the office by a power-walking woman burning down the street in an olive-green Neoprene power vest.

But this was no ordinary power vest – this one was a long-sleeved hoody version, no doubt bought to accommodate the rainy weather of late. Seems the power walker was in such a rush to get to work, she’d thrown the vest on over her shirt, which was billowing around her like a puff of smoke. Or maybe that was a result of the additional carbon dioxide she was adding to the already-polluted atmosphere. There was also a strong smell of burning rubber as she elbowed me out of the way, although I couldn’t be sure if it was the suit or her trainers scalding the Tarmac.

Anyway, it got me to thinking that I really shoul

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