to a Treacherous Secretary
And so I
leave this message on your screen,
The very last of many there have been
Of jocularity and mere fun,
To help the tedium of our work to run,
With comments innocent and not too deep,
To help us all our
sanity to keep
When pressures all
around, and from above,
Created daily grind of work we love.
I did not have
you down as a traitress
Until I heard, on tape, your voice profess
That you thought Frank, with ill intent,
Was guilty of the 'sin' of harassment.
Old Frank, who wouldn't hurt a fly,
Has had to leave without a last goodbye.
You listened to
the feminazi rant.
You paid your dues to feministic cant.
For thirty silver coins you sold a man
Whose twenty-seven years of service ran
Till all the managerial skills he'd mastered.
You aided and abetted that young bastard,
Moira, who was called the office flirt -
With off-the-shoulder blouse and micro-skirt -
To vent her spleen on one who wouldn't fall,
Thus making utter strangers of us all.
So now, no more
to ease our several ways,
The near-knuckle card from holidays,
The 'See you soon!' instead of plain 'Goodbye!'
The arm around your shoulder when you cry.
No longer will we join in office fun;
Frigidity and fear now will run
Amongst all those of us who'd often say
A word or two of humour in the day.
The innocence of banter, idly offered,
No offence taken - never any proffered.
Tomorrow must be
just another day.
No 'Hi-ya Jane!' But, 'Good morning, Miss Grey.'
(Male view magazine
Jan-Mar 1994 - with permission)
The following note by the magazine editor is interesting:
'This is one of the saddest and most poignant contributions we have
so far received for "Male View".
It was sent in by a reader who for many years has worked in an office
environment. The work
was sometimes hard but the camaraderie second
to none; that is until so-called "sexual
reared its ugly head in the shape of a false accusation by an office
worker well known for her flirtatious ways. She put pressure on the writer's
secretary, Jane Grey, to back up her accusation, and the man concerned
The writer often worked late and frequently left messages on his computer
- sometimes of a humorous nature - for Jane who would read them the following
When he heard what had happened, he stayed behind after work and wrote
this poem. When he came in late the following morning, he found Jane sitting
in front of the computer in tears.
Realising the enormity of what she had done, and what she had destroyed,
her last act in the office was to type out her resignation which her boss,
very sadly, accepted."