Bullying Accusations

It is with a certain degree of sadness I am waking up this morning to accusations I bullied members of my team. Let me assure you, I have never and more importantly, don’t intend to bully any staff member. I know these accusations have been made anonymously, but I would like to know who, exactly, made these complaints. I have never shown the slightest inclination to harass any of my support staff. Not even Gerald, who God knows is asking for it. That inane smirk the man has, it’s ripe for a punching. Many’s the time I have been tempted to get him in a headlock and pummel away; but I am a professional and I have resisted. Oh, the days I have romanced the notion of flattening that little mushroom nose to a pulp, and then slapping him about until he struggles no more. But I has to show restraint. With my position comes responsibility and I have no wish for a replay of what happened at Beaulieu Motor Museum. Bullying is very serious. I take it very seriously. I am one person you will not see make light of it. I was bullied at school for not eating mashed potato once, so I know exactly the pain harsh treatment can cause. When my assistant, Hannah, told me about this I was obviously mortified. How could people I trusted betray me this way? But then I realised they weren’t betraying me, because I hadn’t done anything and they would know the consequence would be too terrible to contemplate if I had and they did. But they didn’t because absolutely nothing had happened. When I summoned Hannah, Frank, Rochelle, Mike and Gerald to my office, they all seemed happy enough with my attitude. They mentioned what a privilege it was to work with a man of my stature and vision. Even individually they stuck to their position of ignorance as to who would have transgressed the sacred bond of trust. As I investigated long into the night they continued to maintain their stories. Gerald was the weak link, I reasoned. Break him and the whole house of cards crumbles. But Gerald would not be broken. Over and over I questioned him; I used every interrogation technique I knew of. But Gerald would not be swayed. His story held up, even with the waterboarding. After this night of intense action, we were to head home. But what of the water on the floor and the car batteries. Naturally I had to be up bright and early for Parliament, so my staff offered to clean up all the debris while I went home to my wife, Nancy. Nancy is a wonderful woman who has stood by me through various scandals, all of which have not been proved and even if they have it’s not been that bad. There was a time in the 1980s when we didn’t speak at all and slept in different counties, but that’s all over now. Nancy is learning all about croquet with her instructor, Grahame.