Giving and getting

“We want to make sure that you’re getting what you want out if this,” Fran said to me back in January.  It wasn’t a conversation I was expecting, but one which one of the Directors of the charity I volunteer with broached on a windy morning, forcing me to stop and think.  I hadn’t considered what I wanted, beyond the chance to spend time with horses over the winter.  But at that point, it was becoming clear that I might be sticking around for longer, so it made sense that we consider the future.

Let’s take a few steps back, now.  I’ve always been a Girl Who Likes Things: I enjoy spending money; I like trying new food (preferably accompanied by good wine in a comfortable setting where I pay for the privilege of someone else cooking AND clearing up); I take pleasure in going shopping, whether it’s to find the perfect dress, shoes, handbag or pair of jeans; when I go on holiday, I’m happy to pay more in order to stay somewhere nice with good facilities and a breathtaking view.  Essentially, I’m materialistic.  And until even as little as a year ago, that meant (in my terms) that my time was worth money.  Because money buys Things, and Things are what I like.  Plus, I reasoned, I have talent and skills, those are worth paying for, right?

I even went as far as to tell friends and family that I would never work for free.  I didn’t mind working for low wages (if you want to get rich, you do not work at summer camps), but I did need to be paid.

I’m not sure I could tell you exactly what changed, so I think I’ll call it kismet.  It’s probably a combination of things: I found something I deemed “worth it”; I had time on my hands; I had another job which did pay me; I needed what was on offer… I moved the goalposts.  I volunteered.

I didn’t actively expect to “get” anything, partly because I already was: when I first went to see Fran and Jo upon my return to the UK last autumn, they invited me to ride one of their horses for them.  He needed work, I could (and wanted to) ride, it made sense to them.  For me it meant that I didn’t have to pay in order to do something I enjoy doing (my other option at the time would’ve been to go back to the local riding school and pay for lessons on their horses again, given that I don’t have my own horse).  I already thought I was winning.  In fact, the more I showed up, I knew I was winning, because they allowed me to assist on therapy sessions, something that I knew I wanted to ultimately do as my job, and an area in which I needed experience.  I didn’t think I needed any more.

But they wanted to give me more, and they wanted me to tell them what more was.  They wanted to make sure that I was developing, and that was purely out of the kindness of their hearts.  The way they saw it, I was giving them my time and some physical labour, and that meant I was due something in return.  I love this attitude, not because I stand to gain something concrete from it, but because it matches my own – that anyone who is even a millimetre ahead should be supporting those behind them.  Because that’s how we stabilise the future.  We shouldn’t be job-blocking or holding others back or – worst of all – de-motivating them; we should be encouraging and nurturing.

I’ve written before about how I’ve been inspired by some great managers (who sometimes work for not-so-great organisations), those who I thought managed talent well, and who helped the business they work for achieve its goals, but without ignoring the individuals who are there making it happen.  Because it’s not always about what the organisation needs: whether someone is turning up paid or unpaid, we all have different motivations, but as long as you tap into those drivers, you can help a team function effectively even though they ultimately want different things.

I genuinely believe that by protecting the good habits instilled in me by the managers I worked for when I was younger, I will hopefully be able to perpetuate them, and make the working world a better place.  This post may seem a little out of the blue: in fact, it was inspired by a discussion during #CharityHour, whereby a few of us became involved in a debate regarding support or help given to volunteers looking to advance their careers.  On one side was somebody who essentially said, “ain’t nobody got time for that”, and on the other side was me.  The other side said, “but we can’t have volunteers taking up the charity’s resources,” following which I exploded with apoplexy, because volunteers are a resource of any charity and, in fact, they are more than a resource, they are an asset and assets, as any businessperson will tell you, must be protected.

The other side reared up at my suggestion that volunteers at the very least be promised a reference, stating that they had known organisations whereby one person were responsible for hundreds of volunteers.  My response was that the responsibility should then be divided – provide training, I said, make sure people can do this; our saying within the horsemanship community is, “find a way or make one”.  Anything is possible (insert more cat-skinning related clichés here).  The sticking point for many – and I have worked for at least two enormous companies who have this rule – is good old arse-covering: in the UK, it is illegal to give a negative reference for an employee or volunteer.  As a referee, you have three choices – give a positive reference, a neutral reference, or decline (and the final option tells the person requesting one that, if you could, you’d be giving a bad one).

So big companies permit only neutral references – the standard is that you will confirm dates of employment and sickness record, but won’t comment on an individual’s performance.  Johnny who turns up early for every shift, stays late and is your top seller whose jokes, patter and warmth your customers adore gets the same reference as Bob, who shows up five minutes late, nips out for cigarettes every hour, looks unkempt and is borderline rude.  In my mind, to go the extra mile for Johnny – who has gone several hundred extra miles for you – is not hard.  To provide training and regulation for those who will be giving references (to ensure that your arse is covered) is also not hard.  To give you another equestrian analogy (because they work, as horses are mirrors): “Never knock the curiosity out of a young horse” – Tom Dorrance.  We remember those who snub us on our slow and steady climb.  We mirror their habits.  Let’s breed positive qualities.

I am hopeful that, one day, I will create my ideal world: the one where I get to do a job that I adore (full-time, paid), and develop those around me in a way I would like to see things progress.  I once heard a riding instructor say that they are delighted when their students enter the same classes as them at competitions and beat them, because that’s how it should be – the next generation should ultimately improve on the previous one.  It’s called progress, and without it, nothing changes.  But without a little help – a leg up, a “thank you”, and an opportunity – it can’t happen.  I want to see positive strides, but they can’t happen without my support, so I will give anything that I am able to, whenever I am able to give it.


Show me the money

Discrimination, racism, homophobia, violence and regulations are all matters which are debated frequently and publically in the sporting world.  Another issue of great importance to sportspeople is money.  Some sports are still not regarded as full-time professions by fans and strangers alike – and we’d probably be surprised by which sports those are.  It’s also not just the observers who don’t give athletes the credit they deserve: governing bodies can be guilty of this too.

The matter of funding is a tricky one.  How does an association go about distributing meagre funds among professionals, whilst still allocating budget to development, grassroots sport and support staff?  How are the rights to stage events decided, and how much support does an organiser receive?  What happens when an athlete or an event receives a substantial income from an alternative source, are they worthy of less funding than an athlete who doesn’t have external support?  Do you support the winners, those who potentially have a good infrastructure in place and natural talent to buoy them, or the losers, the athletes who have potential but are struggling to break through because they lack the assistance which could boost their standing?  It’s like deciding which person of great importance to society should be kicked off the mythical survival raft in order to save the other members of the fated community.

One of the most famous sporting paycheque arguments of the last few years occurred in tennis.  The world’s top female players lobbied for Wimbledon – a staunchly traditional tournament – to offer equal prize money to the competitors in the men’s and women’s championships.  Some people argued that the women deserved less because they often spent far less time on court in order to advance and, ultimately, become champions.  That it’s easier for a woman to win.  And, in a way, this is true.  But the fact that the women play on a best of three sets basis versus the men’s best of five isn’t the choice of the players, but the game’s administrators.

In the end, the women triumphed.  Female competitors – win or lose – now take home as much prize money from SW19 as their male counterparts.  A victory and another step forward for feminism, some people cried.  My opinion may be controversial (and could perhaps be different if I were a professional tennis player): although I’m a woman, I’m with those who said that the women play fewer hours and therefore should earn less (for your information, tennis ladies, some sportspeople – male or female – have bigger problems than equality: in some sports, you actually lose money).

Which brings us to another angle of the debate: how should players be financially compensated, if not due to their ability to win or lose?  To pay players per minute on court seems counter-productive: it would then be in their financial interest to make matches last for hours, or even days, although it wouldn’t be the best for their health.  Indeed, this doesn’t work in the business world either – some people produce a higher-quality output from one hour of work than others produce in a week.  Although some roles are paid hourly or daily and others are salaried, the world doesn’t measure efficacy and financial reward purely in terms of hours spent at one’s desk (though “presenteeism” has been increasingly important throughout the recession).  Which part of society is taking the correct approach here?

Because it’s a recognised fact that salaries away from sport are unequal too.  Despite legislation which is now decades old, the gender pay gap still exists.  There are still more men in senior business positions than women.  And, apart from this, there are ongoing ethical debates about the fact that those in “meaningful” or physically dangerous jobs such as community protection, healthcare and the armed forces, can earn far less than those plugging away in commercial enterprise organisations.  The financial debate can become more and more complicated as we analyse it further, chipping away at inconsistencies and flaws until we perhaps lose sight of the original argument, even.

In many sports, the gender pay gap is still down to the fact that, as a commercial product, male sports are still worth far more.  Spectators often regard them as more interesting and engaging, so broadcasters will pay an increased sum for the rights, sponsors and advertisers will pay larger fees due to the greater audience numbers, and the cycle perpetuates itself.  Back here in the non-sporting world, the gender pay gap is generally believed to exist for two reasons: the fact that many women still take career breaks to have children (even if that’s “only” for as long as it takes to literally have a baby), and because lots of women apparently don’t ask for higher salaries, whereas men apparently speak up and demand more money.

Last month, I read one of the best sports articles I’ve ever seen.  It’s long, I’d highly recommend reading at least the first few paragraphs.  This piece is about Jamie Baker – British former-tennis player – and he muses about the wages in sport debate.  It poses an interesting question: what if the richest athletes gave some money to the poorest ones?  My thoughts went beyond this, wondering what would happen if some of the richest sports (football, golf, F1, for example) donated to some of the poorer ones (too many to mention).  Or what might happen if some of the world’s wealthiest business people gave opportunities not just to people deemed as worthy mentees or successors, but to just average people with dreams unrelated to their benefactor’s own.  These concepts could fail, because there are many reasons that some sports and industries succeed where others fail.  But it would be interesting to try.

Whether we like it or not, money makes the world go round, and the spoils do not go to the neediest, but to the victor.  Our society is ruled on entertainment and profit, rather than equality and fairness, and surely that has to change?  Doesn’t everyone deserve a chance not just to do what they love, but to be successful at it?