Once upon a time, in an earlier life outside the Library Service, I was up on a disciplinary on the heinous charge of Not Trusting My Line Manager. As the manager involved was a gay activist who outed three of his staff who had confided in him while they tried to resolve issues with families and children; and who was later asked to consider his position in the organisation after being found to be fiddling his expenses, I'm pretty cool about this transgression.
I had entirely forgotten this episode, which is odd as I really am one to bear a grudge, until reminded by an old friend. Whose partner is currently working under a regime where one of his colleagues has been given a warning for having an aggressive Scots accent.
The older I get the more I yearn for the old days of managers who were focussed on getting things done and didn't much give a shit whether or not you loved them. This new generation of touchy-feely we-love-our-workers managers generate so much childishly vindictive nonsense it makes me want to heave.