One of the more slightly evil laws in Robert Greene’s The 48 Laws of Power is the contentious Law 26: Keep Your Hands Clean.
‘You must seem a paragon of civility and efficiency: your hands are never soiled by mistakes and nasty deeds. Maintain such a spotless appearance by using others as scapegoats and cat’s paws to disguise your involvement.’
Way back in 2003 I was working in a really dodgy chav bar called Brannigans, on Manchester’s Peter St. Housed in the unit that now gives us Albert’s Schloss, Brannigans was your bargain-basement early naughties cheese-fest – not particularly cheap drinks but heaving with people, contemporary and older pop, strict door policy, frequent fights outside but never inside, some of the physically biggest doormen in Manchester centre and – coincidentally – occupying one of the most haunted buildings in Manchester, if you believe that.
I did one shift on the bar, but after that, I was put on glass collecting duties, which I was much happier about.
One night in particular, the bar was busier than usual – probably a Saturday. I remember it was Easter as one of my colleagues was also my flatmate, and he’d gone home for the 2-week break. Later, I gave him the details.
That night, yeah, I was busy, but I hadn’t noticed the stress the bar staff were under. The customers couldn’t throw it down their necks fast enough. It was pre-credit crunch, under Labour, and a lot of people seemed to have plenty of disposable income. (Predictably, all that crashed once I graduated.)
We weren’t allowed a break until the bar had closed, the demand was that constant.
Once the customers were ferried out, half of us went to the break room. That’s when the complaints started. The shift was described as ‘horrible,’ with the serving demands more intense than any other Saturday.
After the break, we went back up to start the cleanup. One of the managers, some Blonde Woman, immediately pulled one of the bar girls to one side. She was a young Swedish Girl. While the rest of us cleaned, Blonde Woman showed Swedish Girl the figures. Her till was down. By a long way.
Right next to the bar she’d been serving in, Blonde Woman went in on Swedish Girl. She showed the employee the figures that were missing.
“I’m going to give you one chance,” Blonde Woman said. “One chance to explain to me where this money is.”
It wasn’t long before Swedish Girl had gone to get her coat and walked out. A Dark Haired Eastern European Girl got the same treatment. She was gone within minutes too. The rest of us finished the cleanup.
Eventually, we sat down for the routing post-shift meeting.
Blonde Woman basically went in on all of us. She explained she had to sack the 2 girls. They messed up.
Meanwhile this Older Dude had joined the team a week before. He was maybe 40 with perhaps a Surrey accent, and had been working in insurance or some similar sit-down desk job. He’d been made redundant and ‘fancied a change,’ so had got into bar work.
Blonde Woman congratulated Older Dude in the meeting. “Your till was £1 up last night and £1 down tonight. For your efforts you’ll be getting a bottle of wine.”
Hmm. So, after the tills had supposedly been ripped off, they could still afford to give away bottles. The meeting concluded and we went home.
A few weeks later, I was out in some bar in Manchester and bumped into Swedish Girl.
“I didn’t do it,” was the first thing she said. I told her I knew that. There’s no reason she’d rip the bar off with another girl on the busiest night. Besides, where would she keep the stolen money?
Blonde Woman was obviously covering her back. Swedish Girl was the scapegoat.
As it happens, within a few weeks, Blonde Woman walked out of the job mid-shift on a busy Saturday night.
So. If you're a manager, using scapegoats might cover your back for so long. But in the end, circumstances, or your own level of competence, will catch up on you. If you're an employee, be aware that when the heat is cranked up, someone above you might use you as a ‘cat’s paw’ to keep themselves from getting burned.
Brannigans Manchester closed in 2011.
