1970s PRIVATE LIFE
0294 Elmbridge Council and Status
Before I became a councillor I wasn't really aware of my status. Indeed very much the opposite. Having lunched with Nobel prize winners, ambassadors and ministers whilst I was still at college, I didn't see anything special about moving in this sort of the sort of circle; and to a certain extent I still haven't done so since that time.
There was relatively little status, as far as I was aware, in the various jobs I did. Even when I was the General Manager at BTR I wasn't aware of any particular status -- though I guess I must have been one of the most senior managers in the whole of Burton on Trent. To me it was another job and I was mainly worried about doing it -- and hanging onto it. The same was true of my position in IBM even when, later, I was in contact with senior civil servants and ministers. They were very much like myself. I admired them greatly, for in those days the civil service was the home of some of the brightest people in Britain. I enjoyed my debates with them, since they were very bright indeed. But I didn't really think about status. I was only aware of it once, when I was passed on to another civil servant in the DHSS and I suddenly realised that he had a large room with a conference table; and it dawned on me that he was rather more senior than the ones I was used to.
When I got to join the council, however, I was made much more aware of my special status. As I have said elsewhere, the actual council meetings themselves were very formalised and – as such - reinforced your status. Equally, at formal events, which you attended as councillors, you were made aware that you were somehow apart from the other guests.
It came home, in particular, at events such as the annual service - where you filed into the church with other council members, knowing that your family was watching and appreciating your position of power. Most moving, I suppose, was Remembrance Day. I had to turn up, or at least felt it my duty to turn up, at our local cenotaph. But I was very conscious of my role in focusing everyone's thoughts on the sad events we were celebrating. Elsewhere, however, the main impact was being addressed by people -- sometimes in the street -- as 'councillor'. This came as something of a shock, and it was clear that they thought that it did set me apart somehow. I never really got used to this. It was pleasurable, I suppose, but somehow or other it was rather unreal.
Some 30 years later I have experienced something similar when I eventually -- after many long years -- I got my PhD. Just occasionally people call me Dr. Mercer and this again shocks me. I didn't see the PhD as anything special. Certainly it didn't do anything for my career, not least since I was finally awarded it two weeks after I retired! But having people send letters to me addressed to Dr Mercer, or even worse being addressed in public as Dr Mercer, feels really strange -- as if I was wearing the wrong clothes.
The main status element, though, came in Ethiopia where my position as the intermediary, between Western ambassadors and the government there, was a unique position. Not least I rapidly had to learn all the titles used in diplomacy. Presidents had to be addressed as Mr President, the Prime Minister as prime minister, other ministers as Minister or Your Excellency. Ambassadors had to be addressed as Your Excellency. I soon got used to this, and it became a second nature
On the other hand I will admit to getting a special thrill at the MBA ceremony there when I turned round to find the Vice-Chancellor at my elbow and was able to say "Vice-Chancellor, can I introduce you to the President"!
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