Before I was a journalist, I managed an office. And what this taught me - alongside the realisation that keeping one's colleagues happy is no easy picnic - is that secret perks are everywhere, from basement mailroom to executive floor. Happening upon what can only be described as a chocolate stash on the desk of my receptionist, I enquired of its provenance. "Stationery man," she said, wiping her smeared mouth with the back of her hand, "Juh want some?"
But the bestowal of edible bonuses turned out to be the tip of the perk-berg. M&S vouchers, luxury hampers and cases of cabernet (albeit from the vineyards of Transylvania) were common bonuses for our front-of-house staff, as they controlled several lucrative contracts. Taxi, paper, recycling and courier companies were lining-up, like wise men, to woo our switchboard. But I certainly knew nothing about it, other than that we seemed to be ordering a lot of pens.
Hotel chains are particularly keen to court the call answerers and diary managers. A frequent booker can collect points and swap them for five-star rooms, Amazon vouchers and iPods. Contrast this with the "rewards" available from some stationers, who offer free plush toys that can be propelled, stunt-like, over the heads of your colleagues. Hilarity might or might not ensue, given that you'll need to buy £50 worth of paper and the toys are akin to those won at a travelling fair. But would such rewards stop you switching supplier? Certainly an 80s-tastic Aerobie seems unlikely to sway any right-thinking administrator. Though it does travel over a mile, which might be just the distance between you and your office nemesis.
Working in entertainment or finance brings more substantial perks. Take the City, where it's unusual, but possible, to command 50k as a senior PA, and enjoy the loveliness of private health and dental care, childcare vouchers, bonus scheme and pension in your basic package. On top of that, there are one-off gifts, when the squillionaires have pulled off a big, fat transaction.
Julie-Anne Page, at recruiters Morgan McKinley, surveyed City PAs and found magnums of champagne commonly presented, with "a weekend for two at a Swiss ski resort, and an all-expenses-paid trip to a five-star hotel in the south of France" being other notable excesses. The one which rather galls, however, is the "Prada handbag, Yves St Laurent bracelet and Chanel earrings." But could such gifts fall onto the desks of ordinary secretaries? "If a big deal was secured, then it happens whether you've been there six months or six years, but they aren't handed out willy-nilly. They're a true reflection of the effort the support staff put in - they work very long hours."
I worry that you'd be less likely to raise problems after being given a haute handbag. But Page disagrees. "I don't think if something needed to be addressed these PAs would hold back, because it's not in their nature. They take their jobs very seriously."
Paulette is a receptionist with a firm who looks after a roster of music talent. She's attended a multitude of events, mentioning Beyonce, Robbie Williams, the Spice Girls, O2 and Latitude. "I've been here 11 years, I hate it, it's like groundhog day," she says, "but I have stayed partly because of the perks. How many people get to say they met the Spice Girls? And Nelson Mandela was brilliant. To see him, to hear him talk, was something I'll never forget." Not that she's blinded by the limelight. "Fame doesn't make you a better person, just a richer person. A couple of the Spice Girls disappointed me, because they seemed so far up their arses!"
David Johnston, at Handle Recruitment, hires PAs for the music business. He admits that while media PAs might not receive the best salaries, "there's obviously free products, gig tickets and you could be travelling the world, going on tour." Which sounds an amazing perk, no? Except that, as Johnston says, "You could be sleeping on a bus every night."
Hmm. And celebrity PA work can be pretty humdrum. "You're a problem solver, a fixer, ensuring everyone has everything they need, which might mean going to Starbucks." Still, these PAs also get to go to the Oscars and the Grammys, right? "Yes, but they're not just sitting there watching it, they're making sure everyone gets to the after-party. It's very, very hard work."
We don't all get perks like that. But do the more mundane offerings influence how we work - which hotels we book and pens we order. "I couldn't imagine that anyone would make a judgment call based on personal gain," says Page, who is adamant that professional PAs are beyond this kind of temptation. And she may be right. After all, the City secretaries already have designer gifts, so needn't be swayed by clamouring hoteliers.
But if incentives don't work at all, why have Regis, an office space company, dedicated an entire microsite to their reward programme? Their meeting planners receive one point for every £1 spent, so it's not hard to see how organising a couple of board meetings could translate into a haircut, life coaching, facials, reflexology, even a cleaner for your home. I'd be tempted. Especially if the big, bad boss-person is being a bit of a big, bad twit-person. What's more, they'd never know. Regis's redemption scheme, unlike those run by credit card companies or hotel chains, isn't linked to an account in your boss's name or a card in their wallet. And you don't need a senior company signature to register.
So what's to stop you remunerating yourself if your boss doesn't? There's a clue in the terms and conditions for many reward schemes, and it's (yawn) to do with tax. Companies which accept gifts of high monetary value could incur an extra tax liability. So however boring the legal blurbs, with their "no responsibility for failure to comply with tax legislation," you could potentially land your paymasters in very hot water. Moreover, many companies forbid gifts which could elicit accusations of corruption or influence, having strict policies on any and all inducements, however small.
Kingston Crown Court, for example, even records the £5 chocs given to the work experience people. And many local government organisations disallow gifts altogether. Take Newark and Sherwood district council's "special circumstances" for Christmas, which only allow gifts like corporate calendars which can be classed as marketing material. At larger, multinational companies like Deloitte and Touche, meeting planners are apparently banned from benefitting from reward programmes. And in the US, some companies have started using their expenses software to track dodgy patterns in hospitality bookings.
So what's the answer? It seems the key issue is transparency. If you can prove you've negotiated a good deal, only a truly churlish boss would deny you your chocolate-flavoured or beauty-based bonuses, as long as it falls within company policy. And surely, if you're feeling really disgruntled, wouldn't a payrise chat be more simple than all this freebie subterfuge? Then you could really treat yourself.