Chris Maclean: My daughter is a thief

Theft is a disgraceful crime and the perpetrators need to be punished. But even as I write this I fail to convey how insidious the nature of theft actually is.

From a management perspective, theft is of great concern. Obviously businesses need to take money and anyone helping themselves to your money jeopardise the success and continuance of the business. Management need to have in place a variety of mechanism capable of detecting such irregularities.

Many years ago I worked a shift pattern in a large London hotel. As a youngster I was only too pleased to help a work colleague by swapping my shift on a Saturday for his day off. Little was I to realise that he was going to subsequently disappear with the all takings in one large bag never to be seen again. Management hadn't prepared for this eventuality and were not happy with my swop (Come on! Who wouldn't swap a Tuesday night off for a Saturday night off?)

More recently, in my last pub, I had reason to suspect a member of staff was stealing. It made me physically sick. It was an awful period. I so wanted to punish her for betraying me. I needed to trap her and spoke to specialists in this field. It was the lowest point in my career. I have never felt so dirtied by this process. As it turned out, after some examination, nothing had been taken at all but the poisonous nature of it was dreadful.

In my daughter's case money was missing in her workplace. My daughter knew nothing about it. All she had was a phone call advising her not to turn up for work. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not the next day. Phone calls were abrupt and often cut off. Managers weren't answering calls. Then a colleague texted her to let her know managers were examining CCTV footage looking for evidence. At its root, my daughter wasn't trusted by the management.

Today there was a meeting. My daughter described it as "facing the firing squad".

But here is where it gets really messy.

The management believed my daughter might be implicated in theft. It mattered not that no evidence could be found (and indeed, subsequently, they realised no money was missing). They didn't trust her.

My daughter, guilty of no crime, has been confronted and told that management have no trust in her. They suspect her. Even if she is vindicated, as she has been, the trust necessary for any employer-employee relationship is simply destroyed.

The other staff in the workplace, conscious of these discussions, now also feel sullied by the exchange. They, too, sense the bond of trust is no longer sustainable for themselves. Who would want to work in an atmosphere of mistrust?

So my daughter finds herself a victim.

She was accused but found innocent.

She discovered she wasn't trusted.

It isn't fair. She had no recourse to action. She hadn't been there long enough.

Even though cleared of all accusations, there could only be one course of action. She had to leave. There couldn't be any other choice. She proffered her notice there and then. How could she continue with such a climate of mistrust? She told them to poke the job.

It is difficult to walk away from a situation like that but I believe my daughter exited with dignity. I'm proud of her.

But the bitter taste of mistrust, possibly one of the worst in any relationship, will last for a while yet.

Maybe I expose myself to risk by believing in my staff. Trusting them. But without it I couldn't do this job. I couldn't work in a culture of suspicion.

My twenty-one year old daughter grew up a lot this morning.