Told by a victim of racism that as a white man he can’t possibly understand what it is really like, American comedian Doug Stanhope offers the following reply.
He knows what it is like far better than they do, because they don’t hear what gets said about them after they have left the room.
That’s roughly how I feel about sexism in the City. With regret I report: it is worse than you know.
City boys don’t hold back on my account. A typical scenario involves a pleasant lunch somewhere nice, the odd glass of wine, two male banker types, one woman. She gets up to leave. Todd and Steve, let’s call them, begin to metaphorically open their shoulders, to say what has clearly been on their mind for some time about the woman in question.
I’m scrambling for a phone to check and hoping it won’t be as bad as all that. Then, here it comes … clunk, ouch.
Speak soon Todd, best of luck.
All of which is minorly awkward for me. For women in the City I think it’s a serious problem, and I can’t see that it has got any better.
Are abusive private remarks part of the process that leads to slower rates of promotion? It’s hard to be scientific, but surely the answer is yes.
