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This story was inspired by an incident in the office where I worked in 1964, the story title being the name of a popular British TV series from that year.
To those who claim that 1964 pre-dated 'Take Your Child to Work Day' by a couple of decades, I claim literary licence :p
The Central Accounting Department of the Universal Widget Company took up the whole of the 7th floor of the Dymocks Building. It was here, under the ever watchful eye of Mr Gifford, the Chief Accountant, that no fewer than 50 staff toiled away to ensure that every penny that came in from sales and that went out in expenses could be accounted for.
The Chief Accountant was a man in his late 50s with a bluff and forbidding exterior that hid a bluff and forbidding interior. His style of dress was always conservative - no one had ever seen him wear other than very dark blue suits (with matching waistcoats), plain white shirt and dark red ties (a conscious choice that matched the colour of the upholstery in the House of Lords in London).
While his dress was the epitome of conservatism, Mr Gifford was open to modern ideas in the office. Only last year four electric accounting machines had been introduced to speed up the work of the ledger section. The latter were operated by four young women who scandalised the older male members of the staff (and delighted the younger ones) by wearing knee length skirts, nylon stockings and lipstick. The young women were under the ever watchful eye of Miss Thompson, a dried up old spinster with a pursed mouth which expressed, in the strongest possible terms, her disapproval of anything and everything that was even remotely to do with Modern Society. She strongly suspected her four subordinates of having Loose Morals.
Even though most of the subsidiary ledger work was now done on the four electric accounting machines, the Great General Ledger was still manually posted by hand in a volume of Dickensian proportions, located on a special sloping desk in the main passageway of the open office. It was normally the sole responsibility of Mr Arkell, who had received special permission from Mr Gifford to make his entries with a fountain pen instead of the new-fangled biros which the rest of the staff were now using. The Chief Accountant could hardly wait for the old fart to retire next year so that he could complete the modernisation of his department.
Mr Gifford had also just agreed, as an experiment, to allow some of his staff to bring their children to work one day so that they could see what their fathers did. When approached he had said "Hmm" a few times, puffed on his pipe and then agreed that no more than six staff members could each bring one well behaved child for one day in late April.
Bringing the children to work was, Mr Gifford felt, a good idea because it would help to increase the respect of children for their parents once they understood how hard they worked on their behalf. They might also come to respect the vital role played by the Universal Widget Company in the economy of their country. Who knows, he had finished by saying, but that in years to come it might even become a general institution in the business community.
The date was chosen because it was the first week of the school holidays. One of the chosen six was Mr Spenser, who would be bringing in his 10 year old daughter Jennifer.
Jennifer was very excited at the idea of spending the day at her daddy's office. She could hardly wait, but eventually the appointed day dawned and she set off with him on the tram to the city. She was wearing the pretty pink dress with the big bow at the back that mummy had made for her older cousin's wedding, with long white socks and black patent leather buckle up shoes.
Because it was the rush hour the tram was crowded, and because it was a rule that children should stand and allow an adult to have the seat, daddy said that she could sit on his lap. That was a mistake on daddy's part: his daughter's soft, full bottom pressing into his lap, and her soft, warm rounded thighs astride his legs engendered the sort of feeling that daddies should not have for their daughters. As for Jennifer, after a while she found it hard to get comfortable: there was something hard in daddy's lap that hadn't been there when she first sat on it. Of course all her wriggling around only made the problem worse. When the tram reached the Town Hall stop daddy said that becuase it was moving slowly in the heavy traffic they'd be better off to alight there and walk the remaining couple of blocks.
When they got to the office Mr Spenser, who was one of the accountants, introduced his daughter to Mr Gifford and many of the other members of the staff, including Mr Arkell and Miss Thompson. The latter, never having had any children of her own, harboured the unshakeable belief that all children were naughty and insolent - without exception.
A spare chair was found and placed next to daddy's desk. He explained, as best he could, what he was doing and how his job contributed to the work of the office as a whole. However because Jennifer was still very excited her attention began to drift a bit from the principles of double-entry bookkeeping.
Now one of the junior clerks in the office was young Thomas Steadman (he wasn't called Mr Steadman because he was only 18). Young Tom thought Jennifer was a bit of alright, even though she was only 10, and even though he'd started going out with little Lottie Bains, who delivered the mail to the desks of the staff and did other less important jobs around the office.
Tom thought that he could have a bit of fun with Jennifer, and maybe even feel her up. Today such thoughts, when discovered, would lead to hysterical accusations of pedophilia, but in those days he would have just been told he was chicken stealing and been given a swift kick up the backside.
All that Tom needed was an opportunity, and it came in the form of an order from Mr Arkell. "Tom" said the keeper of the Great General Ledger, holding out a sheaf of papers. "Ask Mr Spenser to have another look at these figures. They don't look right to me. Oh, and I need to get an answer by lunch time" he added.
"Mr Spenser, Mr Arkell wants you to have a look at these figures. He says they don't look right, and he needs to get your answer by lunch time."
"Oh, I see" replied Jennifer's father. He was beginning to feel a bit frazzled by the need to explain things to his daughter and keep up with the work.
"Mr Spenser, shall I show Jennifer the filing room while you're looking at those figures?" The filing room was a separate room in the far corner of the floor. For security reasons it had no windows onto the general office.
"Um, oh yes. Thanks Tom" he replied vacantly, his mind already on accounting matters.
"Danger Man! Danger Man!" squealed Jennifer between giggles, as she ran through the office. Thomas had been tickling her ribs, sides and tummy through her dress and pink nylon petticoat in the filing room. The noise made everyone look up, which is how the whole staff came to witness what happened next.
Jennifer, who wasn't paying much attention to where she was going, almost tripped on a slight bump in the floor. To steady herself she put out a hand to the nearest solid object, which happened to be the special desk on which the Great General Ledger was mounted. It also happened that right at that moment Mr Arkell had an open bottle of ink balanced on the top while he refilled his fountain pen.
Yes, you've guessed it. Jennifer's grab at the desk knocked over the bottle of ink and a river of dark blue flowed down the Great General Ledger.
The Great General Ledger had been defiled!
All talk and activity in the office stopped. In the silence you could have heard a pin drop on the carpeted floor.
Jennifer, whose face was flushed, gave a sheepish little giggle and then fell silent. Young Thomas made himself as inconspicuous as possible.
"Well Miss Spenser, you seem to have made a mess" said Mr Gifford in a very severe tone as he surveyed the scene of the disaster.
"I-I'm sorry Mr Gifford" said Jennifer in a very subdued tone.
"Sorry, are you? Oh yes, you'll be sorry alright" said the Chief Accountant with a look of thunder on his face. "You are going to be punished!"
"Now" said Mr Gifford, turning to his staff. "The question is this: how should this naughty little girl be punished?" There was a general buzz of conversation, with all sorts of ideas being suggested. However none of them seemed to get universal agreement.
"Mr Arkell. You are the one most affected. What is your suggestion?" asked the Chief Accountant of the Universal Widget Company.
"When I was young" he began in a quavery voice, "we got smacked on our bare bums.... I beg your pardon, bottoms, if we did something bad." Miss Thompson suddenly felt a bit faint on hearing the word 'bums'. "She should have her bare bottom smacked" continued the scandalised ledger keeper, giving the cringing little girl a malevolent glare.
"Good idea!" his boss exclaimed. "Mr Spenser, you will smack your daughter on her bare bottom, in front of the whole office."
"But.... I.... um.... err.... " spluttered Jennifer's father, his face as red as a beetroot. After the tram trip this morning the last thing he wanted to see was his daughter's bare bottom. In fact he had never actually seen it; we are talking about a society in which fathers never, ever attended to such things as the bathing of their children.
"Very well" thundered Mr Gifford. "I will do it!" This announcement was greeted with gasps of astonishment: it was known that Mr Gifford had not been blessed by fatherhood. "Child, bend over your father's desk!"
"But Mr Gifford.... I-I'm sorry. I-I didn't mean it. I'll be a good girl now" Jennifer sobbed. The prospect of having her bare bottom seen by all these strangers, and having it smacked, was definitely not appealing.
"Do not argue with me child!" the Chief Accountant said in a very menacing voice.
Finally, after a bit more hesitation, and some glowering by Mr Gifford, she bent herself over the edge of the desk. He advanced on the sniffling little girl and, holding her down with one large hand in the middle of her back, lifted the back of her pretty pink dress up with the other and bundled it around her waist.
There was a general low muttering from the staff who were gathered around the desk, craning their necks to try to get a view of this most unusual event. Miss Thompson gave a gasp of shock: instead of the decent woollen drawers that all Proper Young Ladies should wear, the child had on a pair of cotton knickers. Really! she thought; what a depraved hussy the mother must be to allow such a thing.
Further general low muttering accompanied the pulling down of Jennifer's knickers. Miss Thompson turned her head away, at first. Many of the male members of the staff experienced a stirring of the loins, for the first time in many years for some of them. Mr Gosper, who had a secret collection of dirty postcards, thought it wasn't a bad looking little bottom at all.
Mr Spenser didn't want to look at his daughter's bare bottom. He was afraid that if he did he would be gripped by unnatural desires, as he had been in the tram. Actually it wasn't so much the unnatural desires in themselves, but the fact that they might become evident to anyone who looked at the front of his trousers.
As for Jennifer, she went scarlet in the face with the realisation that her bare bottom was sticking up in the air and that many pairs of eyes were looking at it and, worse, that most of those eyes belonged to men. Hadn't mummy told her never to let strangers, apart from the doctor, see her bottom and her private parts? Hadn't her Auntie Mabel said that there were lots of bad men who were always trying to look at the bottoms and private parts of little girls?
Slap! went Mr Gifford's big hand on Jennifer's bare bottom, bringing her back to the here and now in no uncertain way.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went the big hard hand again.
"Owww! Owww! Owww!" shrieked Jennifer again. "That hurt" she sobbed.
"It was meant to, you naughty little girl. You are being punished for defiling the Great General Ledger."
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! went Mr Gifford's hand again. Angry red marks were beginning to appear on the soft, pale skin of the little girl's bottom.
"Owww! please stop" she wailed. "I'm sorry." But her punisher was deaf to all entreaties.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! and more red marks appeared.
"P-please s-stop M-Mr G-Gifford" the child sobbed pitifully.
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap! The Chief Accountant finally stepped back. He felt a little strange and his face was flushed. There was a stirring in his loins, and he didn't mind it at all.
"Now child, pull your knickers back up, and let that be a lesson to you! The rest of you, get back to work!"
As the crowd dispersed little Lottie Bains took the sobbing child by the hand and led her off to the Ladies Rest Room, where she washed her face, brushed her hair and fixed up her disarrayed clothes.
Mr Spenser took Jennifer home. Even though there were now plenty of seats she expressed a strong preference to stand all the way in the tram. As soon as they arrived she lay, face down, on her bed to have a good cry, but this changed to quiet sniffling when she noticed that the heat from her bottom had spread to other parts of her body in interesting ways.
Mr Spenser was so humiliated by the whole episode that he resigned his position. Never again did he allow Jennifer to sit on his lap, on a tram or anywhere else. He spent the next 12 years suppressing the unnatural desires he had experienced that day, until their object married and moved to an isolated sheep farm in the west of the state.
That night Mr Arkell surprised his wife by making an amorous demand on her for the first since the euphoric day on which peace had broken out in 1945. Mrs Arkell was so surprised, not to mention disgusted by the prospect of a physical connection with her husband, that she had a Nasty Turn and the doctor had to be called.
Young Thomas Steadman had been commanded to wait in Mr Gifford's office while Jennifer was being punished. The Chief Accountant, after he'd been to the Mens Room to refresh himself, lectured him on how bad he was to chase little girls around the office and wrote out his notice of dismissal. Then he literally kicked him out of the office.
Miss Thompson's hormones were so stirred up by what she'd seen that she was unable to sit still for the rest of the day. That evening, after having had to change her intimate apparel, she took herself to the lane behind one of the less rough pubs in Balmain and offered her body to anyone who might be interested. The only taker (there was a street light in the lane) was a half-pissed stoker from the nearby power station.
Her four subordinates, they of the suspected Loose Morals, went to the Ladies Saloon of the Tatler Hotel next door after work and had a good laugh about the whole thing over a few shandies.
The other five children were boys, ranging in age from 12 to 14, and they all secretly thought that seeing Jennifer's bare bottom was the best part of the day. Four of them got a hiding themselves within a week for trying to see the bare bottoms of their own sisters or the girls next door.
The long arm of Moral Justice took a bit longer to reach the fifth: his four year old sister had been flashing her knickers at him for the past 12 months, and it didn't need much to persuade her to flash her bare bottom. Where it all came unstuck was when their mother caught them at it one day. A bamboo fly swatter can make nasty red marks on the backs of a child's legs.
And Mr Gifford? He hadn't enjoyed himself so much since.... well, he couldn't really remember. He had hoped that the other five children might misbehave so that he could discipline them too, but the example of what had happened to Jennifer was taken very much to heart. As a means of creating opportunities for his new found interest he got himself appointed as Visiting Official Discipliner at the Braeside Orphanage through a friend at his lodge.
The reviewing period for this story has ended.


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