I summed up my remarks by saying that, in practice, it is rarely possible to find a fully-rounded married woman with a happy home and three children who is prepared to devote virtually her whole life, day and night, to a Government Department. It’s Catch-22 — or, rather, Catch-22, sub-paragraph (a). This remark produced more gratifying merriment from my colleagues.
Arnold had allowed considerable time for this discussion, which indicates the importance that he attached to the problem. He concluded the matter by asking everyone present to ensure that all of their respective Ministers oppose the quota idea in Cabinet by seeing that each Minister’s attention is drawn to each Department’s own special circumstances. But he also asked all present to be sure to recommend the
Through the chair, I made one final point. My Minister sees the promotion of women as one means of achieving greater diversity at the top of the Service. I asked all my colleagues to stress, when briefing their Ministers, that quite frankly one could not find a more diverse collection of people than us.
It was unanimously agreed that we constitute a real cross-section of the nation. [
[
Cabinet today. And with a very odd outcome. I put forward my proposal for a quota for women for top Civil Service jobs.
All my Cabinet colleagues agreed
Curiously enough, I’m no longer getting the support from Annie that I was. Not about the quota, specifically, but about promoting Sarah. I had expected her to be
However, as the quota policy is now in ruins it seems that Sarah’s promotion is the only thing left that I can immediately achieve in this area. I have arranged that Humphrey and I speak to her tomorrow. I am determined to push it through.
My whole equal opportunities policy is destroyed, and quite frankly I feel pretty bitter about the whole thing in general and women in particular. Or at least one particular woman in particular.
Before I saw Sarah today I told Humphrey that we at least could make one tiny positive step today. Lighting a spark. [
‘Carrying a torch, even,’ he replied. What was that supposed to mean?
Anyway, Sarah came in. I explained the background to her: that we have a vacancy for a Deputy Secretary in the Department and that, in spite of her being the most junior of our Under-Secs but because she is the outstanding person in her grade, we were happy to be able to tell her that Humphrey and I were recommending her for promotion to the rank of Deputy Secretary.
Her reaction was a little surprising.
‘Oh,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to say.’ And then she laughed.
I couldn’t imagine what she was laughing at.
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ I said.
‘A simple thank you should suffice,’ said Humphrey.
She was still smiling. Then she dropped the bombshell. ‘No — I mean — oh gosh! Look, this is awfully embarrassing — I mean, well, I was going to tell you next week — the fact is I’m resigning from the Civil Service.’
You could have knocked me down with a feather. And Humphrey too, by the look of him.
I said something brilliantly witty and apposite, like ‘What?’, and Humphrey gasped ‘resigning?’
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘So thank you, but no thank you.’
Humphrey asked if there was some problem with her children at home.
Bernard suggested mumps.
I suggested that Bernard shut up.
Sarah said she was joining a merchant bank. As a Director.
She’ll earn more than me. Perhaps even more than Humphrey!
I tried to explain to her that this news was a frightful blow. ‘You see, Sarah, the reason that I’m telling you of your promotion — or rather, Humphrey and I together — is that I have been fighting a losing battle to improve the promotion prospects of women at the top of the Service. And, well, you were to be my Trojan Horse.’
She then explained the reason for her move. ‘Quite honestly, Minister, I want a job where I don’t spend endless hours circulating information that isn’t relevant about subjects that don’t matter to people who aren’t interested. I want a job where there is achievement rather than merely activity. I’m tired of pushing paper. I would like to be able to point at something and say “I did that.”’
The irony of what she was saying was extraordinary. I understand her feeling only too well.
Sir Humphrey didn’t. He looked blank. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said.
She smiled. ‘I know. That’s why I’m leaving.’
