Once upon a time in accountancy….

On Twitter this week, much to my delight I was followed by the excellent Sacha Romanovitch, the CEO of Grant Thornton. This prompted me to reflect on other excellent women who I follow there who are also making their mark in the profession and to wonder about their experience. Then I realised that, amazingly, this year it will be fifty years since I started my accountancy training. I hope things have changed... 

In 1968, graduating from the University of Manchester the proud bearer of a third class degree in economics and accounting (that’s another story…) I was articled to John Margetts at Peat Marwick Mitchell & Co in London. (My mum took a photo of me on the morning I started work: I look about 12 years old,  not 21. If I’d known then…)

Induction on that first day consisted of a lecture delivered by the head of what passed for HR in those days, one Commander Nightingale. The City at that time seemed to be full of men who had retired from the military but insisted on being addressed using their former rank. (Yes,  I’ve retired but I am still a professor because I have emeritus status, and please don’t ask why I’m not emerita…)

I don’t remember noticing any other women at that meeting although there were a few in that year’s intake. We were spread among departments and the only other woman I met on the internal training course which ran each month was Wendy from Singapore (who became a dear friend).

Among the Commander’s instructions was a strict warning that we were not to discuss our salaries so it was some time before I discovered that the male articled clerks were paid £800 p.a. as opposed to my £500. By that point I had already been told off for carrying a copy of the Manchester Guardian in plain sight (apparently I was only allowed to be seen reading the Times and the Financial Times) and warned that I should never come to work wearing trousers. My status as a token woman was confirmed by a supervising senior who observed that, as a Jewish woman, if I’d also had what he described as a “gammy leg” I would have ticked all the boxes.

At that stage of my life I had already learned that fighting back could sometimes be counter-productive and it was wise to choose my battles carefully so I decided to keep quiet and appear submissive. I wasn’t any sort of pioneer, I’m afraid.

The most senior woman at Peat’s at the time was called Pat Triggs. I never met her. She was spoken of with great respect by some but the general view was that, however good she was at her job, she could never be a partner simply because of her gender. I often think of her when people send me, as they often do, the famous Miss Triggs cartoon.

My department head, having created a minor incident by sending me on my first day to join the audit team at an Arab bank (they insisted that the audit team should be all male), realised that I could only be sent to more accommodating clients and I spent most of my first year in film companies in Soho. Throughout my training at every new place I had to explain that I didn’t have a machine with me because I was not the comptometer operator. 

In my final year, working on the audit of a major UK retailer, I was alone at lunchtime when the finance director appeared. “Where are the lads?” he asked. I said that they were all at lunch but, as I was the most senior person there that day, perhaps I could help. The look of horror on his face was memorable: “They’ve left a woman in charge?” he spluttered.  He left in a hurry, apparently to phone the audit partner to check.  I was quite impressed when he returned later and apologised profusely: he said he had no idea that Peat’s employed women other than secretaries and comp operators.

Articled clerks were occasionally invited to formal dinners with partners. Wendy and I were quite excited when we both received such an invitation, shortly before the end of our training. The dinner may have been at the Caledonian Club: I remember predicting to her that the menu would consist of various things I wouldn’t be able to eat, starting with prawn cocktail and haggis that would be piped in and served with neeps, all of which was correct. We arrived dressed up to the nines and were escorted to the rear entrance (are you surprised? There must have been some special dispensation to allow us to attend at all.) We were seated alternately with partners and after every course they all moved round so that the clerks got to make polite conversation with all the partners. I’m not sure if Wendy and I were expected to leave when the port appeared but by that time I was determined to stay put. And then a box of cigars came round. My uncle Mark had taught me how to smoke a cigar so I took one. A horrified silence descended on the room. That may have been the point when I realised that no-one was going to invite me to stay on at the firm after I qualified.

The three years of my training were generally unpleasant because of the behaviour of the men around me but very character building. I left Peat’s with considerable relief as soon as my articles ended. But, towards the end, the finance director at one major client often went out of his way to chat to me and even took me out to lunch. He was very keen to know about my experience as a lone woman. I felt obliged to paint a rosier picture than the reality. Many years later I was told that this charming man was so impressed that he persuaded his daughter to train with Peat’s. She ended up as a partner and the first female president of ICAEW. If I really did have some small influence on that, I feel rather proud and very glad that much braver women followed me.