by City Girl. Friday, 14 December 2007
Tis the season to be jolly – nice, that is – and with the bonus announcement day looming, everybody in my office is positively oozing with niceness. To the point where I've contemplated telling a couple of poor performers in my team that their fawning, which is starting to irritate, is actually a waste of time.
On instructions from my boss, I've already allocated them an extra meagre slice of the bonus pie – in the hope that they get the message and leave. This would save me the monotony of having to "manage them out" next year through the "poor performance monitoring process". So no amount of offering to get my lunch or take my gear to the dry cleaners is going to make a blind bit of difference.
They may as well concentrate their efforts on what they do best, which is back-stabbing, shirking and limbering up for the biggest fib of the year.
Despite the bank having a strict "non-disclosure" rule regarding individual bonus amounts, the boys tell all and sundry about the "huge" bonuses they receive, usually exaggerating it to impress the young girlies in the bar.
Last week, I decided to show my own niceness. I had to step in for my boss, who was ill, at a Christmas treat meeting with an Eastern European client she had been schmoozing for months.
Now, he gave me a ruby and diamond necklace with strict instructions not to tell anybody for tax purposes. But, of course, my paranoia got the better of me. I couldn’t take the chance that he might let it slip to my boss, so I decided on the long approach and handed over the necklace to her with instructions on his tax position.
I figured that as it was only worth £28,000, the risk against my bonus may not be worth it. I suspect I have made the right decision. I'm sure I saw my boss's Botoxed mouth twitch – in an attempt at a smile – when I gave the necklace to her.
So roll on bonus announcement day, as I'm ready and waiting with a clear conscience – for once.