A very nasty "nudge"

The BBC reports that mothers are to be given a financial incentive to breastfeed their babies. £120 worth of vouchers will be given to mothers who are still breastfeeding at 6 weeks, and this will be topped up to £200 for mothers still breastfeeding at 6 months.

I'm afraid I think this is an appalling idea. It's the worst kind of "nudge" economics. Instead of addressing the reasons why women stop breastfeeding early, or don't breastfeed at all, it's a clumsy attempt at bribery. It is targeted at lower-income areas: but in reality it is a handout to better-off mothers and those in secure employment, and will benefit the poor and those in insecure employment not at all.

Firstly, let's look at the reasons why women don't breastfeed, or stop breastfeeding before the baby is six weeks old. This study identifies a number of factors affecting breastfeeding initiation and continuation. Their summary findings are as follows.

The key interventions influencing mothers’ likelihood to initiate breastfeeding were being helped to put the baby to the breast in the first few days after the birth and having skin-to-skin contact within 24 hours. 

In terms of other characteristics, the key factors were ethnicity and how the mother herself was fed as a baby. Mothers from a White ethnic background and those who had been fed entirely with infant formula as a baby were less likely than other mothers to initiate breastfeeding. 

Mothers of full term babies who initiated breastfeeding were more likely to be breastfeeding still at two weeks if they:
- were breastfeeding exclusively at one week;
- were from a non-White background;
- had breastfed a previous child for six weeks or more;
- had received help or information on breastfeeding from a breastfeeding support group, peer
supporter, voluntary organisation or community group.  

The key factors affecting mothers’ likelihood to still be breastfeeding when their baby was six
weeks old (among those who were doing so at two weeks) were similar. Exclusive breastfeeding at five weeks, being from a non-White background and being aged 30 or over were particularly associated with breastfeeding at six weeks. Mothers of second or later babies who had breastfed their previous child for only a short period or not at all were less likely to be breastfeeding their new baby at six weeks. 

Elsewhere in the report, socio-economic class is also mentioned as a predictor of breastfeeding: professional and managerial women are more likely to breastfeed. Though nowhere in this list is financial stress mentioned as a cause of premature cessation of breastfeeding. And nowhere is there any indication that bribing women to breastfeed with shopping vouchers is likely to work. 

However, the study only looks at breastfeeding up to 6 weeks. But the research envisages bribing women to breastfeed exclusively (i.e. the baby is given no other nutrition) for up to 6 months. What are the principal obstacles to exclusive breastfeeding for that length of time?

The first, and most obvious, is that £200 in shopping vouchers is no compensation for the loss of earnings that women suffer when they take longer than 6 weeks off after the birth of a child. Maternity pay in the UK is 90% of average weekly earnings for the first 6 weeks and then drops to £136.78 per week for the next 33 weeks. Admittedly, some women earn less than this - but for those that don't, especially the growing number who are their family's principal earner, this drop in income can be crippling. And the remainder of the leave entitlement (52 weeks) is unpaid. Clearly, the only women who can afford to take more than six weeks off after the birth of a child are those whose partners earn enough for the loss of their incomes not to cause serious financial distress. Maternity leave is the privilege of relatively well-off women in stable relationships, it seems. And that might explain the class problem identified in the NHS's study. Because of assortative mating, professional and managerial women are likely to have professional and managerial partners. They can afford to take extended leave: no wonder breastfeeding is more prevalent among this group. They are probably also more aware of the health benefits - but we should not ignore the simple financial logistics. 

Among women in insecure employment, even maternity leave and pay can be a luxury. Temporary agency workers don't necessarily qualify for maternity leave at all. And women employees who fall pregnant within six months of starting a new job don't qualify for maternity pay, though they do now get full maternity leave (this is an improvement - when I had my children, women had to work for the same employer for 2 years to qualify for full maternity leave and pay). Women in insecure employment are among the poorest women in the country - and they only qualify for 2 weeks leave after the birth of a child (4 weeks if they are factory workers). Returning to work after 2 weeks is not enough time for breastfeeding to be established. It would be extremely difficult for a woman to breastfeed if she is returning to work this early - yet many women in insecure or temporary employment have to do exactly that.

Study after study (eight papers cited in this piece of Australian research alone) show that one of the commonest reasons for women ending breastfeeding early is returning to work. Employers are not universally supportive of breastfeeding mothers, and the babies don't always cooperate either: my daughter refused to drink expressed milk from a bottle, preferring to wait until I got home then feed all night. Needless to say, being effective in a full-time job was simply not possible due to lack of sleep. I didn't last very long. 

The fact of the matter is that the UK's maternity legislation does not support extended breastfeeding. In fact for the poorest women it does not support breastfeeding at all. Breastfeeding comes very far down the priority list for women who are forced to return to full-time work soon after the birth of their children, or who already have several children and no help at home because the extended family is broken, or who are isolated teenage mums with no social support and unsupportive boyfriends. No amount of shopping vouchers will compensate women for these problems. 

But an even more important reason for women ending breastfeeding within 6 weeks of birth is lack of support and advice. This study from the USA found the following:

"We found that 32% of women did not initiate breastfeeding, 4% started but stopped within the first week, 13% stopped within the first month, and 51% continued for > 4 weeks. Younger women and those with limited socioeconomic resources were more likely to stop breastfeeding within the first month. Reasons for cessation included sore nipples, inadequate milk supply, infant having difficulties, and the perception that the infant was not satiated. Women who intended to breastfeed, thought they might breastfeed, or had ambivalent feelings about breastfeeding were more likely to initiate breastfeeding and to continue through the vulnerable periods of early infancy than were those who did not plan to breastfeed."

Again, no mention of financial difficulties. Where on earth has this idea come from that bribing women to breastfeed will help them to do so? Would this money not be better spent providing breastfeeding support and advice to younger and poorer women - the ones most likely to give up?

The study's authors certainly think so. They conclude:

"Our findings indicate a need to provide extensive breastfeeding support after delivery, particularly to women who may experience difficulties in breastfeeding."

They are so right. This discussion thread from Netmums contains a large number of - sometimes harrowing - personal anecdotes. If there is one thing that stands out for me from that discussion thread, it is that for many women breastfeeding is DIFFICULT. It is painful, exhausting, time-consuming and - when it doesn't work, as for many of the women on that thread it did not - depressing. And there is nowhere near enough support for breastfeeding from health professionals. Indeed, unhelpful advice and intervention by health visitors and midwives resulting in breastfeeding failure is a frequent complaint. 

Giving up breastfeeding is not something women necessarily want to do. Some do, but many women desperately want to breastfeed, to the extent of making both themselves and their babies ill: the number of women on the Netmums thread who talk about their babies losing weight because they could not breastfeed them properly is truly horrifying. And women are often devastated when they are forced to give up. One woman observed that the combination of breastfeeding failure with a traumatic birth experience was a major contributory factor to her post-natal depression.  I certainly recognise that: breastfeeding failure following the traumatic birth of my son sent me spiralling down into what I now remember as "the horror". 

And this brings me to what I consider the really nasty part of this appalling attempt at bribery. Women are unable to breastfeed for a variety of reasons, not just the reasons outlined in the study above and described on the Netmums thread, but also legitimate medical reasons such as HIV/Aids, long-term medication e.g. for schizophrenia, drug addiction, reconstructive surgery (e.g. after breast cancer) and hormonal problems. Are these women to be denied these vouchers because they are legitimately unable to breastfeed? What about the mothers of very premature babies, who lack a sucking reflex so are unable to breastfeed? Many of these women attempt to express milk for their babies, sometimes for weeks - but women's bodies don't always react very well to pumps: are women who fail to express milk for premature babies going to be denied these vouchers too? What about the many, many women who are forced to give up breastfeeding on medical advice because their babies are failing to thrive? Yes, with more support they probably could have fed their babies successfully, but the medical profession prefers to intervene to avert a catastrophe rather than provide necessary advice and support early on so there is no likelihood of catastrophe. Many of these women are devastated by what they see as their "failure". Are they to be financially penalised as well? It amounts to kicking them while they are down.

Spare a thought for the health professionals involved, too. Apparently midwives and health visitors are to be responsible for confirming that women are breastfeeding. Imagine what it will be like for a midwife or health visitor dealing with a woman who desperately wants to feed her baby but has to stop because of severe mastitis. That midwife knows that when she takes that woman off the list of women who are breastfeeding, that woman will lose £200 of vouchers that she could have spent on things for her baby - the baby she already thinks she is failing. Is that midwife or health visitor really going to do that? Surely there would be a huge temptation to keep her on the list of breastfeeding women, just so she doesn't lose out because of health problems beyond her control? 

Really, this is a terrible idea. It potentially has some very unpleasant unintended consequences. And it does not begin to address the real causes of premature cessation of breastfeeding. It's a complete waste of money.

"Loneliness in a crowd": patterns and learning

It is interesting how unhappy experiences repeat themselves. Patterns repeat......and there are a number of repeating patterns in my history.

• Repeated attempts to make impossible projects work, and then being blamed when it all goes wrong.

• Repeated patterns of overworking leading to a crash, followed by either underwork (boredom) or no work (unemployment). The "underwork" phase becomes longer each time the overwork phase is repeated.

• Repeated examples of blindness to underhand, manipulative, devious and deceptive behaviour by others. Put another way - I am vulnerable to exploitation. In Slow Burnout II, this will be a major theme. 

• Repeated episodes of psychological distress manifesting itself as disrupted relationships. I don't have physical symptoms (or I didn't then, at any rate - though when I write Slow Burnout II, about my singing teaching "career", then we will be talking about physical symptoms). I unload my distress on to others, who may themselves exhibit physical symptoms of stress - as my husband did in response to my postnatal depression. He was not the only one. There have always been disrupted relationships around me - I am something of a storm - but my time at SBC Warburg was particularly bad. These days I am not so sure that it was all my fault as they claimed: the whole environment was unhealthy. But I now know that I act as a focal point, catalyst and amplifier for emotions, particularly when I am occupying a central role such as a project office - a lens, if you like. When I am collecting and concentrating unpleasant emotions, it is not just others who suffer: I get badly hurt myself.  SBC Warburg was a poisonous environment with a lot of negative emotions, and I occupied a central role. A central role where I can all too easily become the "lens" is a very dangerous place for me to be.

• Repeatedly attracted to places or circumstances of work that reflect or reinforce difficulties in my personal life. We do not know enough about why people are selected for particular jobs - what attracts them to the job, and what attracts the employer to them. But looking back over my life, I am struck by how often misery at home is reinforced by misery at work, and vice versa, even when the causes are apparently unrelated. It is almost as if the circumstances of my personal life, and my emotional response to them, uniquely fit me for certain roles within organisational games. "Scapegoat" turns up rather too often for comfort.

• Disrupted core relationships and neglect of friends and family. This is usually worse in the "overwork" phase than the "underwork". When I am working too hard, I "disappear". But when it all goes wrong, my neglect of friends and family leaves me terribly alone. Hence the loneliness theme that runs throughout this story. I think the theme of my life is "loneliness in a crowd".  

The legacy: Nat West/RBS 2000-2002

The uncharitable charity: CAF March-August 1999

I joined Charities Aid Foundation (CAF) in March 1999 as IT Development Manager, taking over from an interim manager who - weirdly - had been my boss in OSS at Midland. It was a welcome opportunity to work more locally (CAF is based at King's Hill, in Kent), and I thought that working for a small charitable bank would mean less of the vicious politics I had encountered when working for larger institutions. How wrong I was.

When I joined, CAF was developing and implementing a new Treasury system. The Development team were doing extensive bespoke enhancements to a package that had been bought at the behest of Sylvia, the IT Director, a Board member. The package did not fit user requirements particularly well and perhaps more importantly did not include interfaces to the principal UK payments systems CHAPS and BACS. So we had to build them. By the time I joined, the project was already running well behind schedule and the users were very unhappy with the functionality they were being offered: substantial parts of the functionality they needed had been de-scoped from the project on the promise of a second phase to follow, but there were as yet no  plans for that phase, the timescale was unrealistic and it was unclear how it would be resourced.

I felt uncomfortable at CAF from the word go. The senior management went on about how "unusual" their culture was, and in particular how "open" it was. Open it was not. I quickly found out that saying what I really thought was not welcome. My regular meeting with Sylvia was not so much a meeting of minds as an opportunity for me to say "yes, I agree" at regular intervals while she gave me chapter and verse on how the system should be designed and how the project should be managed. And the HR Director took exception to something I said in an email, which she regarded as too blunt: from that moment on she disliked me.

But more worryingly, given my experience at Midland with unclear reporting lines, was the fact that both my team leaders, and even some of the development staff, had frequent formal and informal meetings with Sylvia at which she would tell them what they should be doing, regardless of whatever instructions I had given them. This situation created enormous confusion, and just as at Midland I had been blamed for the ensuing distress, so too at CAF. Only a couple of weeks after I joined I was hauled into a meeting with Sylvia at which she told me that I was upsetting my staff and must back off. This would come back to haunt me.

What was a feature at CAF, though, was backbiting and gossip, which I found thoroughly unpleasant. And worse, some people were the targets of what amounted to smear campaigns. The Head of Internal Audit, with whom I developed a good relationship, was the target of such a campaign. She told me that she was concerned that her view of the role of Internal Audit was at variance with that of some members of the Board. In particular she did not think that Internal Audit staff should be treated as free resources for user testing of the new Treasury System, as it compromised their independence as auditors. She said that she would make this clear to the IT Director and stand her ground regarding user testing. Soon after she told me this, the IT Director's secretary started criticising her behind her back - for petty things, even including the way she dressed. I was concerned about this, because I thought it was unprofessional, but I didn't realise what was really going on. Not long afterwards, the Head of Internal Audit abruptly left, apparently because of "inadequate performance". It was the harbinger of what was to come.

The Treasury department were not happy. There had been continual delays to the system, it wasn't going to do what they wanted and tight IT resourcing meant that Phase II was probably going to be delayed. The IT Director had promised them that Phase II would be completed within 6 months of Phase I. Unfortunately she had also committed the IT department to a lot of other developments. I knew we could not achieve them all, and said so repeatedly. I would have redirected staff from other developments to Phase II to enable us to deliver it on time, but there were hard deadlines on other projects too which made this impossible. I could not bring in additional staff to do the work because of budget constraints and CAF's general policy of paying less than the market rate for IT staff "because it was a charity", and I could not pay staff overtime because of Board rules limiting overtime payments to very exceptional circumstances. Overtime rules were relaxed at my request for the Phase I final user testing and implementation, when both IT and user staff (mainly Internal Audit) were working silly hours. But no-one wanted to relax overtime or recruitment rules for Phase II. It was an impossible situation. But that wasn't what Sylvia was telling the users.

Phase I of the new Treasury system was implemented in August 1999. Although the implementation went smoothly, the aftermath was a disaster. The system simply did not do what the users wanted: the lack of functionality due to de-scoping caused them serious problems and they refused point blank to stop using their existing system until they got what they wanted, which meant that IT staff had to be diverted from Phase II development to support a parallel run. This sounds like cutting off their noses to spite their faces, since they needed Phase II to be delivered, but from their point of view the IT department's resourcing difficulties were not their problem: they had a business to run. Unknown to me, the fallout from this went up to Board level.

A couple of weeks after the implementation, on my way into the office, I spoke briefly with a senior Treasury staff member. She had a new hairstyle, and I made a comment about it. Normally this would have been greeted with a bit of a laugh, but not this time. I got a terse slapdown. It was evident something was very wrong: she was angry and stressed, and did not wish to speak to me. I wondered what I had done to offend her. It never dawned on me that I was being personally blamed for the system's shortcomings. But I was.

Later that day one of my team members took a phone call. He looked over to me and said, "Sylvia's waiting for you in her office". I had anticipated this call, as Sylvia had just returned from holiday and I expected she would want an update (yes, the IT Director was on holiday during the implementation of a major new system needed for FSA compliance!). So I went up to the office expecting a discussion about the Phase I parallel run, the planning of Phase II and the other projects, and what we were going to do about resourcing.

It's funny how little details stand out. As I went into the room I remember seeing three coffee cups on the table by the door....I knew then. A normal meeting with Sylvia would not have three people present. I looked over and saw her sitting with the HR Director.

I knew what was coming, but the shock was still terrible. It wasn't "dismissal", as such, as I had been on a 6-month trial period. But it made no difference. As she said "We are not confirming you in post", my head started to spin, and there was a roaring in my ears. I barely heard what she said after that. The only things I remember clearly are that she blamed me for the fact that Phase II had not been planned, and said the staff were all complaining about me.

They would not allow me even to go back to the department and clear my desk. They expressed some concern about whether I was fit to drive, but I just wanted to get away as fast as I could. Sylvia's secretary retrieved my handbag and briefcase from the department, and said any personal items from my desk would be delivered to my home. Then I was escorted off the premises.

Heaven knows what my driving was like on the way home. I was blinded by tears and kept going over and over the meeting in my head, trying to remember exactly what had been said....but I kept coming back to the same thing. The staff hated me. The wound had opened up again, deeper and more painful than ever.

I could not make myself look for another job after that. It hurt too much. So I withdrew into my tiny house with my children, and for best part of a year I became an ordinary mum. Except that I wasn't. I found it hard to cope even with being an ordinary mum.  I was insomniac (I still am), brittle and anxious. What I had been told at my dismissal nagged at me all the time: I felt worthless and hopeless. I found practical things to do, which distracted me: but the dull ache of loneliness, and the sharp pain of knowing that everyone hated me, underlay everything. As I write this, I can feel that pain again, and I know that fourteen years later, I am still not really healed. Maybe I never will be.

The loss of my earnings was financially disastrous. I knew I would have to find some kind of paid work eventually, so we kept on the childminder, even though it meant using up my scanty savings. But as time went on, and I still couldn't force myself to look for a job, I started to get into debt: my husband and I had continual rows about money and the tiny house we lived in felt like a prison. I dreaded both the job search and the possibility - or indeed probability - that I would fail at the next job, too. I looked back over the pattern of the last few years, and realised that each job lasted a shorter time, and each time I lost a job, the emotional pain I experienced was greater and the time I needed to recover enough to force myself back into the market again was longer.

 I was already doing some professional singing and a small amount of private teaching at my singing teacher's suggestion. A chance encounter with a friend who I knew worked for Kent Music School as a singing teacher offered me the possibility of a way out. Maybe, just maybe, I would not have to force myself to find another banking project management job and risk being hurt again.....

But the CAF story is not quite ended.

Nearly a year after I left CAF, I went to a performance of "A Winter's Tale" by the Detling Players, in which a friend of mine was performing. At the end of the performance, I hung around to meet my friend. As I waited, I saw two people I knew......two members of my former staff at CAF.

I had to speak to them, though I was terrified - I didn't know what they would say. I wasn't sure if they would even speak to me: if they really hated me as I had been told, they might turn away when they saw me. But the pain was eating me up. I had to try to find out whether what I had been told was true.

I went up to them and nervously said "Hello". To my astonishment they were delighted to see me. We talked for a while about the play. But eventually I brought the subject round to CAF. I told them about the circumstances of my departure. I said that I had been told the reason was that the staff were all complaining about me, and I couldn't get it out of my mind. I needed to know if it was true.

Mick looked pityingly at me. "It's not true", he said. "We had no problems with you."

"But the HR Director said it too! She confirmed what Sylvia said!" I cried.

"Two very poisonous ladies", he said.

It seemed that I had been sacrificed to preserve Sylvia's position.....for a while. The users were demanding retribution for what they saw as the monumental failure of the IT department to deliver what they wanted. They wanted blood. Really they wanted Sylvia's blood, but she pacified them by sacking me. It didn't last, though. Six months later Phase II failed, as I knew it would, and Sylvia was forced to resign.

Mick's remarks helped to lifted me out of my depression. The wound started to heal. I started to believe that maybe I was not the ogre that I had been painted.

I applied for a job as a singing teacher at Kent Music School and was accepted, starting in September 2000. Childcare arrangements were complicated: by this time Dominic was at primary school and Nadia at pre-school, but some of the Kent Music School work was in the after-school period and did not finish until an hour after my childminder's finish time. My husband, by then working in London, was not going to get home in time to pick them up. So I organised a variety of friends to collect my children from school and look after them until I got home. My amazingly resilient children tolerated an incredible amount of disruption and inconsistency for the next two years. It took a major international disaster to open my eyes to the risks I was taking with such tenuous arrangements for their care - especially after I went back into banking.

For I did, of course. In September 2000, just as I was starting part-time work at Kent Music School, Nat West rang up.

A time to laugh: Save & Prosper April-October 1998

After I had been made redundant, UBS HR provided outplacement services both to me and, as a concession because they knew of his continuing unemployment, my husband. Predictably, I found a job long before he did - in fact he did not find a job through UBS's outplacement service at all, though he found them helpful. In contrast, I was back at work only a month after my redundancy. I went to work for Computer Sciences Corporation (CSC).

CSC had recently taken over the IT function at Save & Prosper in Romford. They were running a large Year 2000 project, organised into three "high performing teams" (HPTs). I was to run the Corporate HPT.

High performing, my team was not. And some members were directly obstructive. Rather as I had been resented by SMI, so I was resented by ex-S&P staff. I was CSC, and they hated CSC.

Nonetheless, the S&P project was fun. Not because what we were doing was fun - it was at times mind-numbingly boring - but because people made it fun. From senior management down to junior team members, there was a sprinkling of people who liked to laugh and who made us laugh. I think I laughed more in six months at S&P than during two whole years at SBC Warburg. Although it had black moments, I remember my time at S&P as a bright spot.

But it ended badly, and to this day I don't know why. In September 1998 the "investigation and correction" part of the project had been competed, and we were about to embark on user testing. Despite a poor appraisal (which I felt was a bit unfair but accepted), I was offered the job of user testing project manager. But I thought about what that would entail - long hours, weekend working, never seeing my two small children. I had been horribly burned by my experience of user testing at SBC Warburg, and I suppose I feared a repetition. I couldn't do that either to myself or to my children. So I turned it down.

This left my manager with something of a problem. I was the most senior project manager there - and the most expensive. But I had turned down the most senior project management role. The alternative was a much smaller project - and it quickly became apparent that that project was not going to fly. I was in serious danger of becoming a "redundant but employed" project manager yet again.

I don't know what discussions there were behind the scenes. But eventually I was asked to resign. What puzzled me then - and still puzzles me - is that as I worked for CSC, not S&P, I could simply have been redeployed: yes, it would probably have meant moving house, but that was not the end of the world.

I have heard that there were complaints about me, but from whom, and what the substance of those complaints was, I don't know.

What sticks in my mind though was being described as "General COBOL" by a junior team member who had a degree in psychology. She said General COBOL led from the front, and defended his team to the last: when things went wrong, he would be the first to fall on his sword.

I suppose, in agreeing to resign, I fell on my sword.

Being asked to resign hurt. A lot. The old wounds reopened: I felt worthless, a failure - yet again. I hated myself.  But even more, this time, I felt the loss of the people. There had been such camaraderie. I really missed them.

I retreated back home to lick my wounds. It was several months before I felt able to look for another job.

The black hole: SBC Warburg April 1996 - March 1998

In January 1996 I had no job, and I didn't want a job. I had no real idea what I was going to do next, but I didn't plan to return to full-time work in the City. I vaguely thought about looking for part-time local work using my financial skills, but I wasn't in rush to look for it. I planned to spend some time just being with my son and then look for a job when I felt ready.

One morning, I woke up to realise that my husband was still there beside me. Normally he would have got up and gone to work by then, so thinking he had overslept I woke him up. "You're late for work!" I said.

He rolled over and looked at me. "There's something I haven't told you," he said. "I'm not going to work".

Working at a junior level in a female-dominated environment, he had for months been experiencing what amounted to bullying and sexual harassment, which had gradually destroyed his confidence, wrecked his productivity and driven him into the same black hole as I had been in. He had also been affected by my depression. He finally went to the doctor with physical symptoms of stress, and the doctor signed him off sick. He never returned to that job. Later that year he took medical retirement on grounds of stress. He was then unemployed for the next three and a half years.

My world collapsed. My dream of being able to stop for a while and spend time with my son while he was young abruptly ended. I knew I had to find another job, and it needed to be secure: I could not risk the insecurity of contract work any more, because our finances would depend on my income.

The anger I felt towards my husband for abandoning his job stayed with me for the rest of our time together. Eventually it destroyed our marriage: we separated in 2001 and divorced in 2004. I could not forgive him for forcing me to support the family when I had barely recovered from severe depression myself. I could not forget that although I had had bouts of severe stress throughout my working life, I had never given up work: I had always made myself carry on. Maybe it was selfish of me, but I couldn't see why he couldn't pick himself up off the floor as I had always done: if he didn't want to return to that job, that was fine, but he should just look for another one. After all, that is what I would now have to do.

And I did. I put my CV together, sent it out into the marketplace and soon secured a job as a senior project manager in Operations at SBC Warburg. I started the new job in April 1996. I didn't like SBC Warburg's office - the dark slate atrium of the building oppressed me, reminding me far too much of the black hole of depression, and the working environment itself was cramped and drab. But I thought I had secured a job that would meet my needs. I had specified when I took the job that I would not be able to do long hours or overseas travel, and I believed they had agreed. How wrong I was.

What they meant by "long hours" wasn't what I meant. "Long hours" to them meant 10 hours or more a day, whereas I meant over 7 hours a day. Everyone was routinely doing 8-9 hours a day: "long hours", by my standards, was normal hours to them. And the ban on overseas travel they took to mean months away, whereas I meant anything longer than a few days. We were at cross purposes from the start.

Included in my "previous experience", on my CV, was the work I had done in my brief stint at Credit Lyonnais - moving a trading book from one country to another. This was exactly what SBC Warburg wanted for their latest project. To minimise the political risk arising from the imminent return of Hong Kong to China, SBC Warburg decided to move their main Far Eastern trading books from Hong Kong to London. Henceforth, although they would have offices in Hong Kong and Singapore, all trades would be booked through London.

The problem was that the Hong Kong and Singapore offices had been outposts of S.G. Warburg, taken over by SBC not long before. They were still using S.G. Warburg systems and procedures. In contrast, the London trading and settlement systems were SBC systems. The two architectures were fundamentally different and in many ways incompatible. Moving the book was going to involve huge systems changes. The SBC Board - made up largely of people with trading and banking backgrounds, with little understanding of settlement processes and a jaundiced view of compliance and audit - could not believe the project would take 9 months to complete. Three weeks was more what they had in mind, and they simply would not accept the timescale suggested by project management from both IT and Operations. They eventually agreed to 6 months.

By the time I arrived the project had been named and had a high-level scope and plan. The project was originally named Icarus, until someone pointed out that Icarus had actually failed because he over-extended himself (he flew too close to the sun, his wings melted and he drowned in the Hellespont) - not a good omen. The project was hastily renamed Daedalus. But with hindsight, Icarus was a better name. 6 months was nowhere near enough, even with project staff working silly hours. Three days after I arrived, I attended a meeting at which the IT project manager presented his plan. I still remember his opening remarks:

"To achieve the deadline set by the board", he said, "we have removed the luxury of user testing".

IT had indeed produced a project plan that filled up the entire 6 months with development and system testing. They really thought that we would go live with major systems changes that had not been subjected to rigorous user testing, and they resented me for objecting to their plan on the grounds that it was unrealistic. I don't recall saying "that will never work" when I looked at their plan, but I was so horrified by it that it is entirely possible that I did say that. Anyway, rumour spread that I had been very critical of the IT project management. By the end of the week I was persona non grata in the IT department, and the IT project manager had set out on a personal mission to undermine me. His method was not to confront me directly, or speak to my line management. No, his approach was more subtle. He complained to his management that I was "disrupting the project". His complaint went all the way up to senior management and back down the cascade to my line manager. To his credit, David blocked the complaint at that point and it never reached me: I did not find out about this until after I left SBC Warburg. But the message got around nevertheless. Frances was "difficult to work with".

Nor was that the IT project manager the only person producing unrealistic plans. I was the London Operations project manager, and I had a counterpart in Hong Kong. The Hong Kong Operations project manager was not a professional project manager and did not really know how to plan a project. His plans excluded all sorts of things that he hadn't thought of yet and were constantly changing as more things hit his head. He took no notice of resource constraints or critical dependencies, and had utterly unrealistic views of how long it would take staff in other departments to do their tasks. I tried to improve the standard of his plans, but my attempts were poorly received: he did not appreciate my "meddling".

Shortly after the start of the project, I was sent to the Far East for three weeks. I was to spend two weeks in Hong Kong and one week in Tokyo. This was despite the fact that I had joined the company with an explicit agreement that long overseas trips were out of the question. To SBC Warburg, three weeks wasn't "long". But to my 16-month old son, and to me, it was unbearably long. I did not want to go.

But I went, of course. And to start with it seemed to go well, apart from being left kicking my heels outside the door while senior Operations staff from London and Hong Kong had their own project meeting. I thought this was odd and was quite cross at being treated in what I thought was a rather inconsiderate manner. But apart from that, I was upbeat and cheerful: I was still worried about the very tight project deadlines and the poor state of the project plans, but I thought that as the plans were tightened up the unrealistic nature of the project schedule would become apparent and we would have the ammunition to bid for an extension.

That evening, the Head of London Operations took me aside. And what he said was like a knife to the heart. In the meeting to which I had not been invited, the Hong Kong project manager had complained about me, not on a professional but on a personal level. He didn't like me, found me "abrasive" and was refusing to work with me. London Operations were not taking this entirely seriously - the Hong Kong project manager had a history of volatility - but the manager warned me that I needed to be far more careful about how I spoke to him and what I said. It was just like GALM all over again, or even my childhood.....I had upset someone, apparently, but I had no idea what I had done. I asked for specific examples of occasions when I had spoken too abruptly or abrasively, but he was unable to give them. So I could not fix the problem. I would have to walk on eggshells the whole time and hope I didn't inadvertently crush one without realising it.

After he left, I sat in the office for a long time looking out of the window, tears rolling down my face. It was sunset: against the red and gold sky I could see the silhouettes of planes taking off from the airport. I longed to be on one of them. Why I didn't call a cab, go to the airport and get on the next plane home I will never know. I suppose I thought I might be sacked if I did - and after all, my whole reason for doing this job was to support my family. I had to stay, for their sake.

And stay I did, the whole three weeks. I hated Hong Kong, but I liked Tokyo. The manners of our Japanese hosts reminded me of the manners drummed into me as a child. I understood them, perhaps better than some other members of the team. I had studied Japanese business as part of my MBA: perhaps that helped. Anyway, I got on far better with my Japanese colleagues than I did with the Hong Kong people.

It was after I came back that the real problems started. The project was, quite simply, impossible. We all knew that. But none of us had the courage to go back to the Board and tell them that the project simply was not deliverable in the time frame. To be fair, we all thought the Board would not listen anyway. But collectively we all - including me - suffered from a massive lack of gumption. We worked longer and longer hours just to get the work done. I produced a one-page Testing Strategy that outlined the approach to user testing: backing it up would be test plans and scripts for each application to be tested. These had to be created. We also started to design new business processes for the functions affected by the changes, a work stream that I added to the programme at the Operations users' request. But it quickly became apparent that we did not have either the resources or the time to complete the extensive process redesigns needed. Meanwhile IT provided a delivery schedule for systems to user testing, which turned out to be unworkable: delays built on delays, while the project deadline grew ever closer. By mid-July I was doing 12-hour days.

One evening, my boss caught me staring at yet another screen of horrible test results. "Is it really that bad?" he said. I didn't need to answer - I just looked at him. He knew.

"I'll do what I can", he promised. And he did. He persuaded senior management that the project was in trouble. Next thing I knew, there was a full-blown project review. I welcomed this as an initiative - but what I hadn't realised was that it meant even more work for me. I was expected to keep the user testing going - on which I was already doing silly hours, coordinating testing activities around the world. And I was now also expected to participate in the review, providing data and doing analyses to support the argument that the project needed to be restructured.

In addition to the morning testing review meetings, I now had 8am project review meetings as well. I used to get home at 11 pm or later after working all day and all evening without a break, eat something and fall asleep, then be up in time to catch an early train to London so that I was back in the office by 7.30 am, in time to produce the updates from overnight test runs before the 8am meeting because I wouldn't have time after the meeting. I never saw my little boy, because I left the house before he woke up and didn't get in until after he was asleep. And he didn't know where I was: Mummy had simply disappeared.

One night in August, he woke up at 2 am because he was teething. I went in to comfort him. It was like a light bulb going on. Mummy was there.... After that he woke up at that time every night and refused to go back to sleep. The middle of the night had become playtime.

I lasted three weeks on hardly any sleep. Eventually the inevitable happened: I blew my top in a project review meeting. I had had an hour and a half's sleep that night, my temper was on a knife edge, and in that meeting I had one demand too many made of me. I lost my temper. I am not proud of this, but in the circumstances it is perhaps surprising that I hadn't blown up before. But it didn't do my reputation any good. Once again, the message went round: Frances was difficult to work with.

Eventually the project was restructured and re-staffed, and a new deadline was set which, I noted with some amusement, was the same as it would have been if the original project management estimate had been accepted. The project did indeed need 9 months, not 6 months, and even that would be tight - people would have to work very hard.  A new overall project manager was put in place and the London and Hong Kong project teams were dismantled, being replaced with a new task-based structure. I lost my job, of course. They suggested that I could join the team preparing new business processes. I thought about it, and decided that was not really what I wanted to do. I wanted to complete what I had started. I wanted to run the user testing. There was a Test Manager job in the new structure, so I said I wanted to do that.

It wasn't as simple as that. There was another candidate. My well-meaning boss had assigned some more of his staff to the new project, including one senior project manager. The staff had not been assigned roles, because my boss viewed it as the overall project manager's responsibility to assign them. However, I know that my boss had intended the senior project manager to go to Hong Kong for five months to run the Daedalus project office there - clearly not a job I could or would do. Unfortunately, the senior project manager had other ideas. He had just started a new relationship, and feared that spending a long time abroad would disrupt it. So he looked for a senior role on the project that would keep him in the UK. And there was an obvious one - the Test Manager role. Suddenly I was in a competition. I had to prove I was the right person to keep on doing the job I had been doing now for two months.

The new overall project manager, concerned about the hours I had been working, put me on strict work-to-rule (9 to 5) and excused me from breakfast meetings. I was so tired by then that it was a relief. I didn't have to work late, I didn't have to come in early, I could see my little boy. But it left me in a very vulnerable position.  I was not present at important project meetings. I was "off the radar".

One day there was a breakfast meeting at which the final staffing of the project was determined. I did not attend this meeting, obviously.....but the senior project manager who was bidding for the Test Manager job did. At that meeting he presented a one-page Test Strategy as a blueprint for how to conduct testing. And on the basis of that presentation, he was given the job.

Later that day, the overall project manager jokingly asked me if I fancied five months in Hong Kong. Then I knew.There was no role for me on the project. Just as I had been after GALM 1, I was employed .....but unemployed. The project to which I had given so much had rejected me. I no longer had a job.

I only found out several months later that the Test Strategy that the senior project manager had presented at that meeting was the Test Strategy that I had written some months before, and that we had actually been using in the user testing that we had already done. He was so worried about losing his girlfriend if he ended up in Hong Kong that he resorted to fraud to get what he wanted. He stole my work and presented it as his own at a meeting where he knew I would not be present. He knew I had been doing that job: he knew I wanted to continue doing it. He knew that my circumstances made it impossible for me to spend five months in Hong Kong, which was the only alternative. But he didn't care.

I reacted to this much the same way I had to GALM 1. I had nothing to do, but I still had to come in to the office, and this time I didn't have the relief of MBA studies. I was bored out of my mind and dreadfully unhappy. It soon became evident that the new Test Manager was way out of his depth: the test team used to come to me for advice and information. I was no longer even a member of the project team, but they couldn't do without my knowledge. This went on for several weeks.

Eventually my boss found me another job - a small project to develop a time reporting system, coupled with running the Operations project office. It soon became apparent that there were so many big, business-critical and high risk projects going on at the time - plus the takeover of Dillon Read, of course - that no-one was remotely interested in a time reporting system. I could not get any senior management buy-in for this project and I admit that I was not really interested in it myself. It soon died, leaving me with only one job - the project office. As with the GALM "personal assistant" job, this was widely viewed as a demotion. But more importantly, I hated it. I knew that I was temperamentally unsuited to that kind of administrative role: but there was nothing else do do. I was bored out of my mind, miserable and stressed. I guess it showed in my behaviour: I was irritable, intolerant of minor annoyances and totally lacking any sense of humour. Not surprisingly, I became unpopular.

Underlying the problems at SBC Warburg was of course the tension at home. My husband was still unemployed, but was unwilling to be a house husband: he was spending lots of time doing voluntary work in order to gain experience with a view to becoming a charities fundraiser. Our son was in nursery, we had a cleaner and a gardener, all of it paid for by me. I felt that I was sacrificing everything I had ever wanted so that my husband could pursue his dreams at my expense. Something had to give, so I took us to Relate. We worked with a counsellor for several months, but the eventual (unsatisfactory) outcome was that I had to either accept the situation or leave. I agreed to continue to support the family if I got the second baby I wanted. It was an unholy deal that resolved none of the real problems and only delayed the inevitable. However, I did get the baby. In November 1996 I found I was pregnant. It was a high-risk pregnancy: I spent a lot of time visiting doctors and midwives, and as time went on I spent increasing amounts of time in hospital. There is little doubt that my mental state contributed to the risk: I was stressed and unhappy all the time, and this communicated itself to the baby.

Not long after this, my boss was moved sideways. He was replaced with someone who already had a vast team - we were simply additions. And he wasn't having any of the "flat management structure" that his predecessor liked. He chose the people he wanted as direct reports and assumed that everyone on the projects where they worked reported to them. But that left me out. I wasn't on any project.....but that didn't mean he wanted to be my manager. He simply ignored me completely. I was on my own.

I had to negotiate the terms of my maternity leave directly with Human Resources. The baby was due on August 12th, so I agreed that I would leave at the end of June. In practice I left earlier. I spent the last two weeks before going on maternity leave in hospital.....except for one visit to London. That visit was for my annual appraisal.

SBC Warburg appraisal involved 360 degree feedback and self-assessment. While in hospital, I completed the self-assessment form, which had been sent to me in the post. I didn't think I was particularly kind to myself in the self-assessment: I was by no means proud of my performance and felt that I had in many ways behaved pretty badly, though I did think that there were substantial mitigating factors.

I left hospital on the day of the appraisal and took the train to London, taking the self-assessment with me. The appraisal was to be conducted by a former colleague of mine who had recently been promoted, and a lady I had never met who had flown in from Switzerland. Apparently these two between them were now my line managers.

That appraisal was the worst one I have ever had in my life. Their assessment of me was far worse than mine: they refused to take into account any of the mitigating factors I had identified - not even my fragile physical state and the worry caused by a high-risk pregnancy, nor the fact that my marriage was in serious trouble (which they knew). None of it mattered. All that mattered was what people thought of me, and that was generally negative. There was a positive report from my team members: unsurprisingly, there was a very negative view from the senior project manager who had stolen my work in order to get my job. I had been unable even to be polite to him once I found out what he had done.

They refused to change any of their findings in the light of my self-assessment.  I might as well not have bothered to do it. At the end of the appraisal, they said "well, now we'd better get this signed". I didn't say it, but I'm sure they knew what I was thinking. No way was I signing my own death warrant.

I spent all of the return train journey in tears. And I kept saying to myself, "I'm not going back. I'm never going back there again".  I went back into hospital in a very upset and stressed state - not good for woman in the late stages of a high-risk pregnancy.

I look back on this experience now with absolute horror. I have managed people, and I can say in all conscience that, whatever crimes a staff member may have committed, calling someone out of hospital to give them a strongly negative appraisal is simply appalling management. Even if the bad appraisal is justified, you just don't do that to someone who is in a fragile physical or mental state. But it was symptomatic of the generally awful management at SBC Warburg.

I returned from maternity leave in January 1998. I negotiated the terms of my return directly with HR, because Operations didn't know what to do with me. I wanted to come back on the basis of working at home a couple of days a week, but all the Operations business units would consider was full-time in the office. So I found myself once more in limbo, with no clear role. No-one would assign me to anything meaningful because of what they saw as my restricted availability.

It didn't last long. SBC Warburg took over its rival UBS: Operations was restructured and I had yet another change of line manager, this time someone I liked and respected. But I never had a chance to work for him. Not long after the takeover, I was made redundant.

The next bit I am going to write is possibly illegal. But it is now fifteen years since I left UBS. Does it really matter any more?

I was sent to see HR to sort out the terms of my redundancy. There was a queue for interviews with HR officials, so I was shown into a waiting room. The room was full of women.....pregnant women, women who (like me) were just back from maternity leave, women with small children. There were no men.

In the HR interview it became clear that the new UBS was using the merger to get rid of everyone - from both sides - who didn't fit their "work hard, play hard" ethos. That's why so many women with children were being made redundant. We weren't going to commit the time that they wanted.

We were offered an enhanced settlement package in return for relinquishing our right to claim for unfair dismissal and sex discrimination. UBS provided legal advice for us at a reduced price: but it is fair to say that the solicitors were looking after their own interests, not those of UBS. The solicitor I went to see suggested that I could go back and ask for more money.

I didn't. The awful appraisal was still in the back of my mind. And because of it, I considered that I deserved my redundancy. In fact the appraisal was bad enough for dismissal, really. I decided that I didn't have the moral right to ask for more money. I had not behaved well.

But HR had a slightly different take. They knew what had happened over my maternity leave, and they no doubt knew about the appalling appraisal done at a time when I was officially off sick - after all, no-one had ever insisted that I signed it, indeed it had never been mentioned again and I no longer reported to those individuals. They apologised to me for the awful management of the Operations department. I still remember the comment of the HR official who dealt with my redundancy:

"We do our best", she said. "But there are some management black holes".

Clearly I had been in one of them.

The horror: Credit Lyonnais January - March 1995

Going back to work after my son was born was the hardest thing I have ever done in my life. I didn't want to leave my baby. And actually I wasn't in a fit state to return to work. I had postnatal depression.

I arranged a contract at Credit Lyonnais while I was still on maternity leave, and sent my child to a nursery at 3 months old even though I wasn't starting work for another month and a half after that: this was to accustom him to the nursery routine and deal with any problems before I had to face the long commute to London every day. Looking back, I know now that I did not have to return to work quite so early: I had enough money to take at least 6 months off, and had I done so I might have coped better.

But Credit Lyonnais had even worse problems than mine. I arrived in January to find there was nothing for me to do. The job they had had in mind for me had been hijacked by a rival department. I thought this was odd, but decided to make myself useful anyway. So I spent the first week reorganising the department, clearing out cupboards and getting to know people.

It quickly became apparent that the rival department was intent not only on hijacking projects, but taking over the department itself. I had inadvertently walked into a fight to the death. Not only that, but the department that recruited me decided to field me as their main protagonist in the fight. My opponent was a senior official from France, backed by the full might of the French senior management. Even had I been emotionally stable and physically robust, I would have found this difficult. In my fragile state, I never stood a chance. It was a disaster from beginning to end.

Technically, what we were doing was setting up a new bond trading desk in London and moving the bond trading book from France to the UK, which is actually quite fun to do. My opponent made life difficult for me, though. He wanted me to come in at 7 in the morning because that's when the traders started. He had a point: we did work closely with traders. But we were not providing live support to the trading desks - we were doing a project. Being in at 7 am was simply not necessary. And my contract said nothing about starting at 7 am: I would not have agreed to it if it had. As I lived some distance from London, being there at 7 would mean having to be on a train at 5.30 in the morning, which as my (by then) 6-month-old baby's nursery didn't open till 7 was a non-starter. My opponent was shocked. In his book, a woman with a baby that young shouldn't be there at all. But I was, and I was in his way.

Things progressively went from bad to worse, and I eventually wrote formally to senior management saying I could not work with this man because of his attitude to me. Predictably, they responded by terminating my contract. But unusually, they did an exit interview. I think I achieved more in that interview than in the whole of my time at Credit Lyonnais. The senior manager asked me how I saw the situation, and what he should do. I said that I thought the evident fight for supremacy between the two departments was incredibly unhealthy: people feared for their jobs and productivity was crashing. And I said that he should make a decision as to which department would survive, and which staff would be made redundant. He did as I said. Three weeks later the department that had recruited me was no more, and all the staff had either been transferred to other jobs or made redundant.

This was not the end of Credit Lyonnais' difficulties, though. It was slowly destroying itself from within. I have never encountered a company so intent on self-immolation before or since, and I hope I never do.

Credit Lyonnais was disastrous for me. I was already on the way down when I went there: but while I was working productively I could keep the negative thoughts at bay. But working for a company that was tearing itself apart reinforced my own negativity. By the time the fight got going in earnest I was seriously depressed.

The traumatic birth of my son, followed by my son's feeding difficulties, had left me feeling a failure as a mother. Now it seemed I was a failure as a worker too. There seemed little point in staying alive: I actually thought everyone would be better off without me. And I became increasingly disconnected from reality. I remember watching the crowds of people walking along the City streets, black and white and grey....they looked like ants. I didn't see them as anything to do with me. Whatever street they were scuttling down, it wasn't the same street as the one I was on. My street was empty, and I was alone.  But once I was at home, I really was alone. I cut myself off from my friends and my family, withdrew from my husband. Fortunately I didn't cut myself off from my son. He was the only person with whom I could connect.

The final straw came as I crossed the road outside Cannon Street Station one day. A car was coming.....I nearly didn't step out of its path in time. I felt nothing: it wasn't that I wanted to die, more that I couldn't be bothered to move fast enough to avoid it. I found myself wondering idly what it would be like to be hit. Fortunately I came to my senses and got out of its way. But at that point I realised I needed help.

I didn't know who to turn to. I knew that I should see a doctor, but I hated doctors. Doctors had intervened to save my son when he failed to thrive, but their intervention to save him had hurt me deeply. No way was I going to talk to a doctor about how I felt. Especially the doctors who had dealt with my son. Why did dealing with my son's failure to thrive have to hurt me? Why couldn't there have been a solution that worked for both of us? It sounds unreasonable, and in many ways it was. I couldn't resolve it in my mind. I read everything I could find: I went over and over what had happened, trying to work out what had gone wrong and what I could have done differently. In fact I reacted to this in the same way I had to the loss of my job in GALM 1, only much, much worse - obsessing about what had gone wrong to the point of being unable to sleep, unable to eat, filling my time with pointless activity, anything to take my mind off the horror.....

In the end I contacted my midwife. She was no longer responsible for me, but agreed to see me. We had a long talk, and she eventually persuaded me to see a different doctor, one unconnected with the horror. I went to see this doctor, who suggested antidepressants. I refused medication: I felt that I wanted someone to help me unpick the tangled web of negative thoughts and emotions, not numb me so I couldn't feel or think any more. Maybe I was wrong: maybe medication would have calmed me enough to enable me to think clearly. But it's easy to be wise after the event. At the time, medication was the last thing I wanted. Deep down, I was desperately lonely: my self-inflicted isolation had cut me off from all the people who might have been able to help, and I felt there was no-one who was even interested in how I felt. Anyway, the doctor referred me to a psychotherapist as an emergency case. It was the start of eight years of therapy.

Therapy didn't help to start with. In fact if anything it made things worse. After I lost my job at Credit Lyonnais it was some months before I found another job, but I was on the job market the whole time, so my son had to stay in nursery. I was stuck at home with no job and no baby, bored and miserable. I took to roaming around the shops to keep myself occupied. And I read. Huge amounts of psychological stuff. It helped me to understand the deep roots of my depression, but it didn't cure it. I remained in the black hole throughout that summer.

Once again, Nat West came to the rescue. In the autumn of 1995 they called me in again to do the same job that I had done before, only for exchange-traded products in capital markets this time. I spent a mostly happy four months at Nat West, finally leaving when it became clear that what Nat West IT were prepared to do wasn't what I wanted to do. We agreed to part on good terms. And I planned never to go back. It had dawned on me that although my husband didn't earn much, I could take a career break while my son was tiny....we would be poor, but at least I could spend the time with my son in his early years, and maybe have the second baby that I wanted.

But it was not to be. What happened next was the worst time of my entire life. Worse even than the mental horror and near-suicide of the Credit Lyonnais days. At least then I felt nothing much: if there is one thing that depression does for you, it blunts emotions. But by the time I went to SBC Warburg, I was no longer depressed. I was angry - furiously angry. And the result was two years of almost unbearable pain. Pain that I still feel, even now, whenever I think about what happened there.