I spent a day just before Christmas in a small, upscale London office full of incredibly posh people; the receptionist’s pearls were worth more than the Gross Domestic Product of several South American countries. Spread over two floors, the company was full of Henriettas and Melissas, with double-barrelled names the norm.

I permitted myself a wry smile at the thought of the traditional values that must apply to their business dealings. A young graduate, joining from one of the better colleges at some esteemed University, might make some seemingly innocuous error in the first document that she had to prepare for the Managing Partner.

She’d be asked to stay behind in the evening. He’d take out the paper and discuss her mistake – and emphasise the need for accuracy and care. He’d check that she had signed the special clause in her employment contract.

And then he’d re-enforce the message with her bent tight over the boardroom table: six sharp strokes across her skirt guaranteeing greater focus on her future work.