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One of the many salacious details in Amazon Prime Video’s A Very Royal Scandal, a mini-series about Prince Andrew’s ill-fated interview with the journalist Emily Maitlis, is how rude the prince is to his staff. In the programme, he is routinely boorish, abrasive, abrupt and tells them to “fuck off”.

Although A Very Royal Scandal is a fact-based dramatisation, the prince’s behaviour is, according to numerous reports, well-grounded in reality. And, while Prince Andrew may be mired in scandal, there are numerous less tarnished celebrities and wealthy people whose staff are lining up to say that they’re terrible (or, occasionally, great) to work for. But are these terrible experiences typical?

“I’ve experienced a very broad range of relationships between HNWIs and their staff,” says George Dunn, director of private staffing agency Fairfax and Kensington, referring to high-net-worth individuals “In the inner sanctum of these vast homes, I’ve known housekeepers to virtually be treated like family, especially when helping raise the children of the principal.” Staff may be working closely with their principals for decades, helping them through divorce, disputes and depression.

Dunn says that “HNWIs who are very much in the public eye typically form a closer bond with their staff due to the very solitary nature of their fame.” With the lower-profile rich, the pressure is less and the relationship may be a more normal working one.

Jonathan Alpert, a Manhattan-based psychotherapist with clients on Wall Street, says: “Things can go wrong when boundaries are blurred, expectations are unclear or when one party feels taken advantage of or disrespected.”

He says that the wealth and status imbalance can complicate the dynamic and that both parties should be aware of this. “It’s important to have clear expectations and professional boundaries to prevent misunderstandings or feelings of exploitation,” he says.

Of course, even apparently good relationships are no guarantee against publicity. Diana, Princess of Wales was, by all accounts a good employer to her butler, Paul Burrell. Nonetheless, he seems to have made a career out of being her confidant and, even now, 27 years after her death, is still serving up revelations for the tabloid press.

Not all disagreements with staff end with straightforward dirt-dishing, though. In November 2022, Jeff Bezos, the billionaire founder of Amazon, was the subject of a lawsuit from his housekeeper, Mercedes Wedaa. The lawsuit claimed, among other allegations, a series of petty restrictions around toilet access during long shifts. Bezos’s attorney denied the allegations.

In Ashlee Vance’s 2015 biography of Elon Musk, the author wrote that when Musk’s long-serving PA, Mary Beth Brown, asked for a raise, the billionaire told her to take two weeks off. He then did her duties himself, decided they weren’t a big deal and fired her on her return. Musk has disputed the story.

It can feel like we are in an era of staff dishing the dirt on employers. There may be a number of drivers behind this. One is the growth of the new elite — the so-called second Gilded Age — who are served by people ranging from poorly paid domestic staff to upper-middle-class managers. Another factor is that the tabloid social-media ecosystem means it has never been easier to leak information — and, because of technology, these leaks are often far better substantiated, for example, with video.

“With social media and a culture of oversharing there is a greater tendency for people to divulge secrets, whether personal or about others,” says Alpert.

What can the rich do about staff airing grievances in public? Not much. Confidentiality agreements might make disgruntled employees think twice, not least because they can affect future employability, but they won’t stop an aggrieved staff member or undo the immediate damage. “I’d advise great caution and discretion when discussing personal matters with staff and encourage creating an environment of trust but with awareness of the risks that come with modern communication platforms,” says Alpert.

The biggest bulwark against leaks remains ensuring you have a good, well-defined relationship with your staff and treat them as you’d like to be treated yourself. Of course, this won’t entirely insulate you from disgruntled ex-workers, but it will reduce the chances of leaks. Conversely, if you endlessly tell your employees to eff off, eventually some of them will — and they’ll be happy to dish the dirt on you. 

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This article is part of FT Wealth, a section providing in-depth coverage of philanthropy, entrepreneurs, family offices, as well as alternative and impact investment

Your front page story about infrastructure investment (“Abu Dhabi writes off Thames Water stake as Labour tries to lure investors”, Report, October 9) reports that investors have been complaining to the government that the water industry is regulated too strictly! This is a view diametrically opposed to that of the vast majority of the British public. This week’s UK international investment summit raises two questions. Who will the government listen to, and are we now on the way to other forms of infrastructure and public services being owned overseas and weakly regulated, on a basis similar to that we have seen in the water industry?

Victor Anderson
Brighton, East Sussex, UK

Japan has begun campaigning for a snap general election that threatens to pummel the ruling Liberal Democratic party as voters pass judgment on a slush-fund scandal, the rising cost of living and a decade-long failure to deliver greater household prosperity.

The intensive 12-day campaigning season for a vote to be held on October 27 was formally set in motion by Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba — the quirky, 67-year-old LDP veteran who was elevated to the top job two weeks ago after a bitterly divisive party leadership race. 

Pitted against Ishiba is a fragmented line-up of five main opposition parties, with no strong inclination to join forces. The largest is the Constitutional Democratic party of Japan — itself a divided bloc led by the 67-year-old parliamentary veteran and former prime minister, Yoshihiko Noda. 

While the LDP is still likely to secure a majority, it may emerge substantially weakened and less able to tackle the economic and demographic challenges Tokyo faces.

Japan is attempting to normalise its economy after decades of deflation and ultra-loose monetary policy, while its shrinking working population has to support an ever larger number of retirees.

Ishiba’s success may be defined by how few seats he loses at a time when the LDP is held in low esteem.

“Ishiba may be able to afford up to 20 or so losses, particularly if they are concentrated among scandal-implicated lawmakers, but more than that will impair his ability to govern,” said Tobias Harris, the founder of political risk advisory firm Japan Foresight.

Despite his image as a man of integrity, Ishiba came to power with a cabinet approval rating of 51 per cent — the lowest since that index began in 2002. In the first trading session after Ishiba emerged as Japan’s next prime minister, Tokyo stocks plunged heavily while the yen traded wildly as markets bet on whether he would press the Bank of Japan to delay interest rate increases.

That lack of market confidence hangs over Ishiba’s attempt to present himself as a revitaliser of Japan’s economy.

As Mizuho Securities strategist Masatoshi Kikuchi pointed out, while the economic backdrop of many previous elections has been poor, Japan’s long experience with falling or stagnant prices meant that the “misery index” — a calculation that adds together the unemployment rate and inflation rate — had not been much of an issue. Now, with rising prices and anaemic real wage increases, the misery index is close to 6 per cent.

Given the long shadow cast by the political funding scandal and the state of the economy, the LDP is, in theory, due to a heavy drubbing from the electorate, said Temple university political scientist Jeff Kingston.

But, he added, the speed at which the general election has been called has given the opposition parties too little time to effectively co-ordinate.

Noda, meanwhile, has so far failed to set out a distinctive economic programme or give voters a clear set of policy reasons for electing his party, repeating the mantra that Japan should vote out the long-incumbent LDP and allow Japanese politics space to change.

“There are lots of reasons why the LDP should suffer, but the fragmented state of the opposition is what could save them. I’m not sure that Noda is the man to lead the CDPJ into a bright future,” said Kingston, who added that voters had likely not forgiven the party for the brief but chaotic period it was in power from 2009 to 2012.

Still, the risks of a significant upset are there, say other analysts. Ishiba’s LDP party, in power more or less continuously since 1955 barring two short interludes, remains deeply split after its leadership election and Ishiba has done little to build unity.

The power balance in the House of Representatives, where the LDP controlled 255 of 465 seats before parliament’s dissolution, means the loss of just a couple of dozen seats would strip Ishiba of an absolute majority and give greater leverage to powerful foes within his own party.

The LDP has also, for many years, ruled in coalition with the Komeito party, which has 32 seats but is weakening, and a handful of independents. If the coalition loses more than 46 seats, noted Harris, it will fall short of the 244-seat “stable majority” that allows it to chair, and hold a majority of seats on, each parliamentary committee.

While Ishiba — a train enthusiast and Japanese anime fan obsessed with defence issues — had personal popularity, he was not the “charismatic saviour” the LDP needed, said one party official. 

But Harris added that the chances were good that independent voters, especially younger ones, could reject the choice between the two 67-year-old political veterans and sit out this election. That could mean the election is decided by LDP grassroots supporters, who tend to like Ishiba and will leave the LDP’s majority intact. 

“The LDP looks likely to lose votes by quite a bit, but it’s unclear how big their loss of seats would be given that more voters may simply abstain and also split votes between opposition parties,” said Koichi Nakano, a political scientist and affiliate at the Weatherhead Center for International Affairs at Harvard University.

“If there was a real two-party system . . . the LDP would be almost certain to lose power, but given the voter’s disaffection and the opposition fragmentation, the LDP may still weather the storm.”

Data visualisation by Jonathan Vincent