Hi, Honey…!

I hope every bloke who works in an office, store, military unit, factory, transport, walked in this morning and greeted each female cheerfully, perhaps even with a hug:

“Good morning, Sweetie / Honey…!”

Of course it would be over the top, unnecessary, in many cases inappropriate because the mood was otherwise.  But it would make the point – the complaint against Roger Sutton, CEO of the Christchurch Earthquake Recovery Authority, and the solemn silly sanctimonious response to it, are plain bloody humbug. 

Most people who have a life know that Roger Sutton, who came to this job at a pretty desperate moment in the life of Christchurch City, has been a light and a leader.  He was already deeply involved as CEO of Orion, tending all the electricity reticulation.  To take over the Cera job he accepted a substantial drop in salary.  He brought style and efficiency, and manifest care for people.

I don’t know Roger Sutton.  I know his parents.  We were fellow parishioners for a while at St Luke’s Church, Remuera.  St Luke’s is Presbyterian, but the Suttons were Anglican.  We all got on fine, we never thought we wouldn’t… and it indicates that the Suttons are not easily pigeonholed or categorised.  Roger’s mother was at university with me and our lot, long ago.  We were devout, and we assumed that liberal attitudes were the intelligent way ahead. 

Neither do I know his complainant.  Let me see… Is she perhaps about 50… divorced, maybe, no longer with some bloke who decided he couldn’t face the rest of his life this way…?  Does she wear a black suit to work, relieved slightly by a chiffon scarf in mute tones to hide her increasingly elderly neck?   Yes, I am being rancid and petty here, but I am confident Dante would reserve a place in one of the circles of hell for some (by no means all) of these complainants.  I imagine Roger’s complainant as a section leader in the organisation, and she quite enjoys being formidable.  Her nightmares are her own regular performance reviews, when she is vulnerable, but which so far she has managed to survive. 

She has an issue with any man who is in authority over her, who perhaps turned down her recommendations, or who treated her flirtations lightly, or who seems to be happy with his own life and love and family.   Any of this is neurotic, and dangerous for males. 

It was wonderful to see Roger Sutton’s wife, Jo Malcolm, step up in high indignation to point out the obvious about her man.  She loves him.  He is OK. 

It's been hideous. He is a really good man. Why his hugs and jokes have been misinterpreted, I have no idea. He's a touchy-feely person.

Sutton could be silly, she said.

That's what I love about him and he forgot he is the leader of the public service and he's too informal, he's too relaxed. That's who he is, and that what makes him who is and why the Cera staff love him – the majority of them do – and I think it's really sad for Christchurch.

The disastrous still-developing complaints culture needs urgently to review itself.  It is now increasingly ruled by juvenilism and humbug.  This is sad, partly because there are still serious instances where women and men are bullied, vilified and oppressed, in the workplace and elsewhere.   Our ability to respond to these things should not be hampered by the manifest time-wasting triviality of the pursuance of Roger Sutton by some sad woman.