Yesterday evening, the Financial Times ran perhaps the most talked about story of 2018 so far. Undercover reporter Madison Marriage produced one of the best pieces of investigative journalism that I’ve seen in a long time, albeit the most stomach churning and grim. It uncovered what went on behind closed doors at the 33rd annual Presidents Club Charity Dinner, which was held at London’s Dorchester Hotel last Thursday night.
The male-only fundraiser, conceived as the “most un-PC event of the year”, had 360 top figures from British business, politics, finance and entertainment in attendance. They were tended to by 130 specially hired young female hostesses, who had to be “young, tall and pretty” to fit the bill. Their dress code was “sexy” and all black, specified down to their underwear and sky high stiletto heels. Other entertainment included exotic dancers. Auction items included a plastic surgery appointment which could be used to “add spice to your wife”. One attendee allegedly ordered a hostess to down a glass of champagne, take off her knickers and dance on a table, while another exposed himself to a hostess.
Some commentators have shamed the young women, many of them students, who chose to work at the event for a £150 fee. They knew what they were getting themselves in for, surely, considering they were forced to sign a non-disclosure agreement (which they didn’t have time to read). The programme given to male guests on the night contained a full-page spread that warned them against engaging in activities that may be considered as sexual harassment. On both sides, then, the organisers were aware of the implicit dangers facing these young women when left in a room full of powerful men – they knew that this was an environment that could facilitate institutional harassment and exploitation.
There can be no claim that these men didn’t know any better. Attendees were upper class and educated. This is not about class though. This is about a pervading “lad” culture in society which facilitates and supposedly justifies the objectification of vulnerable women. Many hostesses worked the event in the hope that they’d pick up some business cards and connections that could lead to job offers, while to others who frequently worked in the industry, it was just another day in the office.
Appallingly, there are many students who can relate to their experience, myself included. For two years, I worked at my local suburban pub that marketed itself as an “amazing live music venue by night and super busy family restaurant by day”. It was my first job when I turned 18 – having had no experience, it was all I could get, and in many ways I counted myself lucky that it was so close to home. I knew that despite being on minimum wage, I could work really hard for coveted tip money that would help me get through college and I thought that waiting tables and serving drinks wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. What I didn’t sign up for, however, was the atmosphere and working conditions that I experienced when day turned to night.
The big nights were the worst – New Year’s Eve, St Patrick’s Day and the usual wild Saturdays when the pub was packed out. What sticks with me about those nights isn’t the vomit I cleaned up, the drinks that were spilled over me or the physical exhaustion that ensued when I got home after a 12-hour shift with little to no breaks. It was the groping, cat calling and so-called “casual” sexual harassment I endured. It included being called a “good girl” or being pulled too close to men who snaked their arms around my waist without my consent.
On my first New Year’s Eve as a working adult, a middle aged man offered me a €20 tip, which I could take on the condition that I would be his New Year’s kiss. For a period of time we trialled selling burgers in the early hours of weekend mornings – I was tasked with targeting drunk men to buy them, and encouraged to use flirtatious behaviour to meet my targets. One man bought a burger, giving me a €10 tip to get myself one while I was at it, and he believed this generous behaviour gave him permission to ask me for my phone number, harassing me until I gave him a fake one. These experiences were shared by my female co-workers, but we were encouraged not to talk about them. The so-called “banter” I engaged in with male co-workers behind the bar could also be viewed as sexual harassment, but my skin is thicker than that.
If this is the kind of behaviour that goes on in a local family-run establishment, I shudder to think of what some of my peers are subjected to while working in late-night bars and clubs in the city centre. Many students are forced to undertake service industry employment during their time in college. This may be because they aren’t eligible for SUSI grants or because their parents are not in the privileged position to fully support them financially during their studies. Alternatively, these jobs are often key to funding a J1 trip. These students don’t have the luxury of walking away from a job because of mistreatment and feel unable to call their employers out for facilitating sexual harassment. Owners and managers turn a blind eye to such behaviour on their customers’ part, and on the rare occasion I chose to speak out about my experience, they sided with the customer – they’re always right, after all.
People often told me not to expect better from the “working class types” that I served. Marriage’s investigation has proven that this behaviour happens on every level of society. To those who claim women can and do engage in similar activities to objectify males – I acknowledge that women are no angels either. But the Presidents Club did not host an outlandish all-female event, and my male co-workers were certainly not groped and harassed as frequently as I was.
To the naysayers who will inevitably call my opinion overly dramatic or deem the Financial Times reporting puritanical or overly PC, I have this to say: Would you be comfortable to have your female friends, future daughters, sisters or girlfriends subjected to this sort of treatment? Would you be appalled to find that they share similar experiences to mine, and remain tight-lipped out of fear? This is not a question of being uptight.
This is about questioning basic human dignity, condemning misogyny, and continuing to fight the good fight towards gender equality. I want to believe there is basic decency out there and I encourage the men reading this to execute it. I hope that my daughters will have the privilege of reading about misogyny in the history books, where it will be condemned as an archaic thing of the past, rather than having to experience it.
