Woman reveals the shocking 'toxic femininity' she's experienced at work

Imagine turning up to work every day knowing the person sitting opposite you is doing everything in their power to push you out of your job.

That was the shocking reality for Naomi Joy, a 30-year-old former PR director from London, who witnessed and experienced 'toxic femininity' throughout her career.

She reveals one female colleague in her thirties once declared everyone in the office 'hated her', while another tricked her into making a mistake so that she would be favourite for a promotion.

It eventually led to Naomi quitting her job and penning The Liars, a psychological thriller about two rivals competing for a promotion, inspired by her own shocking experience.

While researching her book, she conducted a survey of 1,000 employed British women and found more than half claimed to have been sabotaged at work by another member of the so-called sisterhood, while more than a third (37 per cent) said they'd actually felt scared or threatened by a female colleague. 

Here Naomi tells FEMAIL how she coped with all-out office war - and how you can attempt to break through the 'sisterhood ceiling'...

It had been building for a while. I'd been walking on eggshells for months, trying not to provoke one particular female colleague prone to passive aggression and making snide remarks. 

In her early thirties, bright and energetic, she had seemed supportive at first, keen to be friends in the chic PR agency where we worked.

Now she'd finally come out with it: 'Everyone in this office hates you. Everyone wants you to leave.' Furious, I remember clenching my hands so hard the nails punctured the skin on my hands, drawing blood. 

And what did I do next? Well, nothing of course - instead I tried to placate her, like so many women would have done in my place. Yet something changed forever that afternoon. It was the beginning of the end of a life lived in the shadow of other women's toxic femininity.

I thought I'd learned my lesson about female rivalry at the very start of my career when, as a young intern, I was fortunate enough to land a dream full-time job at PR and events agency. 

The boss - a brilliant, rather fierce woman with high-arched eyebrows and dark-red lips - had decided to give me the position, much to the chagrin of the other female intern who would have to leave.

This girl, who I'll call Tara*, said nothing to my face - but then she didn't need to. Instead she made sure I had the wrong information for the following day's photoshoot, while I was too naive to bother checking.

I spent the following morning dashing along Oxford Street hunting for pairs of gold designer heels. Shoeboxes were piled high in my arms as, eyes watering as I stuffed receipts from Manolo Blahnik, Louboutin and Jimmy Choo into my purse. I hadn't been given a credit card as juniors were expected to stomach expenses like this and wait a month to be reimbursed. I couldn't afford it.

I got to the shoot at lunchtime as instructed, bright red and sweating, only to be met with a single brusque question: 'Where have you been?' 

I looked around to see the cameras were packed up, blow-up palm-tree props deflated, a pair of bright-gold designer heels flung to one side.

Tara stood smugly across the room, hand covering her mouth, jaw dropped with faux-shock. I handed the shoes to the woman who had offered me the job, stuttering an explanation.

'What are these?' she snapped. 'The shoot finished an hour ago. There was no one on hand to fetch coffees. I had to do it myself!'

Tara got the job instead of me - a sign of things to come.

Millions will recognise what I'm talking about - that world of women who flash you a broad smile as they turn on their computers in the morning, teeth still on show as they huddle into their screens while angrily plotting your demise in secretive emails.

These are the women who actively block your path to success if they deem you a threat; women who, in my experience, create a ceiling far harder to break than a glass one. And, much as it pains me to say it, they exist in offices everywhere. 

I conducted my own survey of 1,000 women in full-time employment in Britain, and a troubling 58 per cent of them told me that they had at some point been sabotaged at work by another member of the so-called sisterhood. There was no bias in terms of age, location or wealth. 

My second job took me to some of London's most exciting red-carpet occasions. I held vast black umbrellas over the heads of celebrities. I set up events with Olympic athletes and worked on publicity campaigns that made a real difference to people's lives.

The culture was much better. Even so, there was one woman who, when my promotion was announced, took me to one side to say I hadn't deserved it.

'I had to wait a year to be promoted, you only had to wait nine months,' she said. 'It's not fair.'

Her disruption became systematic. She blamed her mistakes on me. She blocked my chances to work on more important projects, spreading rumours that I would probably leave the company soon. This woman, by the way, was supposed to be my mentor - and, despite everything, I wanted her to like me.

She wasn't the only one. There was a senior colleague who quite incorrectly pointed the finger of blame at me in a crisis meeting. 'You understand why I had to do that, right?' she said afterwards.