Legislating for human behaviour has reached new levels of absurdity

What you very much don’t want in a colleague is the sort of person who runs to an employment tribunal when their feelings get hurt

It has been a long time – more than seven years – since I went to work in an office, but I seem to remember it as a place full of flawed, gossipy, insecure, proud, needy, kind and cantankerous workaholics and lazybones. In other words, as a place populated by humans.
It was this daily dose of human-ness that I missed most when I first went freelance. I missed the close friends I had made in the office, but also – perhaps even more – the colleagues I had never really got to know, or wanted to know.
Spending every weekday with a shifting cast of intimate strangers, some of whom you may find rude, annoying or weird (and vice versa), is an underrated social discipline. It taps into something elemental, a muscle memory from the prehistoric tribe. You’re stuck with a small group of people that you didn’t get to choose, and your survival/ pay check depend on finding a way to cooperate with each other.
Andrew Gilchrist, the boss of Interaction Recruitment, appears to have been a somewhat irascible tribal leader. When one of his employees, Nadine Hanson, arrived late for work, he refused to say hello to her – not once, but three times. Apparently, he didn’t realise she’d been to a medical appointment. Hanson, who has successfully sued the company for unfair dismissal, says he also withheld some sick pay because he thought she was faking her illness, and gave pay rises to two of her junior staff without telling her.
I mean, it’s not brilliant leadership. And yes, it was a bit unfair. But at the risk of turning into my mother, life is unfair. And a large chunk of life happens at work. If an employee is so emotionally enfeebled that they feel driven out of their job by the absence of a “Hello” – well perhaps, as they say, it just wasn’t the right fit.
A large part of what makes someone a good colleague is ineffable, impossible to delineate in a job advert. You want them to be forthcoming but not pushy, robust but socially-sensitive, quick-witted and generous enough to defuse the many awkward moments that are bound to arise in such close proximity. What you very much don’t want (and again, this can never go into the job description) is the sort of person who runs to an employment tribunal when their feelings get hurt.
Last week, a tribunal ruled against a woman who had sued her former company for reasons including failing to acknowledge her “existence” by not giving her a leaving card. It doesn’t seem to have occurred to her that maybe she didn’t get a card because she wasn’t very popular. Or that suing her former employers – thus ensnaring them in a costly, time-consuming and stressful legal process – would only prove them right.
The economic ramifications of “fat jabs” semaglutide and tirzepatide may turn out to be even more remarkable than the personal ones. Colleagues who work in the food business tell me that, in America, processed food and snack manufacturers are anticipating a drop in profits of up to 20 per cent. Pharmaceutical companies must be rubbing their hands with glee. Transport industries, especially aviation, are delighted too: the thinner the passengers, the smaller the fuel bill.
It took around 70 years for the world to get this fat, but these weight loss jabs work with marvellous speed. The global economy, which has adapted to fit our gradually-expanding girth, will now have to re-cut its cloth in a hurry.