Take a Good Look at Yourself

I awoke this Saturday morning to news that police had been called to the home of Boris Johnson (the candidate currently in pole position to become the new Prime Minister of the UK) and his girlfriend, Carrie Symonds, due to their neighbours having concerns over Miss. Symonds’ and Mr Johnson’s safety.  I’m not sure that a private tiff should be headline news or that neighbours should be recording each other and sharing their recordings with the press. However, there is no doubt that the altercation has the potential to damage Boris Johnson’s reputation during his bid to lead the Conservative party. Certainly, the conduct and character of the person holding the highest political role in a country is important. Indeed the character of any leader, either in or outside of politics is significant. I work for a financial services business and we expect honesty and integrity from all our staff, indeed we would not hesitate to dismiss someone whom we discovered was not acting in the best interests of clients, had lied for their own gain and/or whom we found not to be treating colleagues and third parties with appropriate respect and consideration. What we do and how we come across is important and, I for one don’t spend sufficient time considering how I seem to those around me.

My boss gave me some constructive but challenging feedback last week – he told me that some people in the business suspect that I have favourites. That for me, as an HR Director, is a significant cause for concern. It is crucial that I am seen as impartial, fair and interested in everyone. I have given his comments a lot of thought (hence this blog) - it is true that one former colleague of mine from a decade ago, a supplier who agreed to jump ship and come in-house and one person I met via a charity we both support, have joined our team – they were recruited without my involvement, but I can see how people, without my being aware of it, might have felt unintentionally pressurised into offering a job to a person who had my initial recommendation. I am confident that each new member of my team has been able to demonstrate well above average skills, but I can see how their hiring could be misperceived.  I’d like to state that I am hugely proud of the people who were in HR when I arrived. The HR offering has changed significantly for the better and it is entirely down to the team. When I arrived I made a deliberate decision not simply to “replace the bulbs” (despite encouragement to do so from some quarters) – I knew that every person had skills and capabilities that would prove invaluable as we turned the business around. Much better to turn bulbs on and demonstrate that positive change can happen – HR has been at the forefront of much of our business transformation and we take pride in leading by example. I have an amazing team.

I genuinely try to treat everyone with equal consideration, but that does not mean that I shy away from difficult conversations when performance dips or when people do or say things that unsettle others. I appreciate that people don’t like it when I call things out, but it is the right thing to do. I know that there are some who are going through tough times, physically, financially, emotionally and mentally - I am grateful that they have let me know - and I have tried to be supportive and understanding. It did not occur to me that those with whom I was spending less time might feel that they were less valued as a result. In my mind, they were fortunate, in that their lives currently seemed less complicated than their colleagues’ and hence they did not need or want as much attention or reassurance. Each of us is different. Some people like to keep work and home very separate. However, perhaps the problem is me and that I haven’t listened well enough or they have not felt comfortable sharing aspects of their lives or problems with me.

Whilst on the subject of impact and impressions (and this post being somewhat confessional) - at the end of a meeting in my office yesterday a colleague made a joke about the messy state of my desk. I am comfortable working with a collection of papers and objects piled around me (it is a family trait I seem to have inherited from my academic grandfather, who co-invented the iron lung, and my lawyer father who was a recognised leader in his field), but perhaps I should be more mindful of the impression it creates on others. There has been lots of research into working space and tidiness. A survey conducted in 2018 on 2,000 UK based employees showed that 41% of workers believe that an organised space is key to doing a good job, but on the flip side, Thomas Edison, Albert Einstein, Mark Twain and Steve Jobs all had messy desks and they seem to have been quite productive. Indeed there is academic research that shows that people are more creative and better at problem solving when they operate within a more cluttered environment.

Mark Twain at his desk

Tidy desks only became expected when the industrial age really started taking hold and Dickensian clerks were being closely watched over. That doesn’t alter the fact that I should be more mindful. Various people at work’s words to me have been a wake up call to contemplate how I am seen by the people I live and work with.

I thoroughly enjoyed a recent trip with a much-loved and perspicacious friend to the National Portrait Gallery. One of the things that we discussed as we wandered through the 19^th, 20^th and 21^st century galleries, all full of famous people, was the impression that each individual had wished to create through their portrait. Did the sitter choose the setting and expression, or did the artist decide that? I suspected that it depended on the sitter – if they were a grand patron or member of royalty they would have more control. What was the choice of lighting (candle or daylight) and why? Why did a number of portraits all share a similar trait (for example a physical one such as ruddy cheeks, perhaps to look like the monarch of the time, or all looking sideways towards the horizon rather than directly confronting the viewer – although many actresses of the same period  seemed to prefer to look you in the eye).

I enjoyed spotting small details that people used to convey messages – the bust of Sir Walter Scott was carefully carved to indicate that he was dressed in plaid and proud of being Scottish.  

James “Jem” Wharton, painted by the Liverpudlian artist William Davies, shows the highly successful boxer at the height of his career – he commenced fighting in 1833 and retired undefeated in 1840. He then ran a tavern in Liverpool as well as being a boxing trainer and promoter. The picture is a very early depiction of boxing gloves and they seem to indicate that Jem had been training before the painting was done, as gloves did not become mandatory in fights until after the adoption of the Queensbury Rules later in the century. 

What looks like a dashing Spanish shawl tied around his waist are in fact the “colours” from his latest victory (we still talk of sportspeople winning their colours – but they no longer wear them tied round their midriffs.) In Jem’s days wearing the colours were an important message, advertising his skill and success. Not all the portraits at the Gallery were intended to convey a meaning, the charming sketch of Jane Austen, done by her sister Cassandra, is just that, a frank family sketch painted simply to depict her likeness. Many have commented on the fact that, with the advent of photography, painted and drawn portraits of everyday people are becoming less common. Most of the 21^st century pictures had clearly been commissioned. The picture of the chef, restaurateur and writer Fergus Henderson cradling a suckling pig in his arms was a particular favourite of my companion – it is witty and says so much in such a simple way.  

Fergus Henderson beside his portrait
now hanging in the National Portrait Gallery

Some leaders in business and politics are effective at using items to make a simple statement. I was particularly struck earlier this year by the dignity and compassion displayed by the New Zealand Prime Minister, Jacinda Ardern, following the terrible killings in the mosques in Christchurch. Her wearing a headscarf said so much and was noticed around the world (and indeed her action was followed by many women in New Zealand to demonstrate their solidarity with the Moslem community).

Corporates can make decisions relating to the appearance of their staff that make a statement to the wider community – the mandatory wearing of high heels has been much debated, in contrast, this week Virgin Atlantic announced that it is no longer compulsory for female cabin crew to wear make-up.  Have you considered the subliminal messages provided by what you wear or don’t wear? One area for consideration is colour. There is a considerable amount of research into the psychology of colours and how they affect emotions, perceptions and reactions. Roman Emperors wore Tyrian purple because it made a statement (it was so expensive and difficult to make, relying on the death of at least ten thousands snails per toga).

Influential Puritans in Britain in the 17^th Century reportedly wore black – it not only demonstrated that they were pious because they used no colour to adorn themselves, but also told people that they were successful and wealthy,

because a good quality black was hard to produce and hence expensive (the majority of puritans wore brown and indigo). Another aspect of appearance is hair (be it facial or the stuff on top of your head). I remember a bearded colleague once being introduced on his first day as the “soon to be no longer hirsute Mr X” - a clear message from our boss that he was expected to shave. More recently, I notice that Boris Johnston has trimmed his conventionally unruly mop of hair, presumably in a bid to widen his appeal amongst the Conservative electorate. I know that I look a bit wild at the moment, perhaps, now that I am trying to be more self aware, I’d better get my ends trimmed or even a professional bob instead of my flowing mane. What do you think?

When did you last take a good look at yourself?

"Man in the Mirror" - Michael Jackson

Active Hope - Day 26

26th December 2018 (Boxing Day)

26 miles is the approximate distance of a marathon. Originally, from 1896 to 1908,
the distance was 25 miles (the same as that run by the legendary Greek soldier Pheidippides
when he from the Battle of Marathon to Athens to deliver news of a Greek victory, after which
he collapsed and died). The marathon distance only became 26.2 miles during the 1908 London
Olympics. Queen Alexandra requested that the distance was adjusted so the royal household
could see the race from Windsor Castle.

I over indulged yesterday and was over indulged. however, it was wonderful to spend time with the family. Today I am planning to take things quietly and spend time appreciating the gifts I have been given. I have been very spoiled but I am very grateful. 

Siobhan Sheridan is the Civilian HR Director at the UK Ministry of Defence. When I first made her acquaintance she was the Director of People and OD at the UK charity the NSPCC. Siobhan's career started in a customer facing role within financial services; it was clear that she had a flair for understanding and developing rapport with people. On joining the consumer lending business Capital One, her talents were acknowledged and she moved into HR, initially via training and development (she headed up the UK-based Corporate University), before eventually becoming HR Director for the Cards business. Siobhán moved out of London earlier this year and now lives on the coast in a stunning house with the most beautiful views of the sea. She is a popular public speaker (renowned for her pragmatic attitude and passion for doing the right thing). She is also a valued contributor on Social Media - her Twitter handle is @SiobhanHRSheri. 

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There have been two regular features of my Christmas these last few years. One of them is this series of Advent Blogs, the other is the time that I spend with thousands of others volunteering for Crisis at Christmas.

Arriving at Charing Cross Station in the mornings and walking along Whitehall towards the office I pass too many curled up bodies resting on crumpled cardboard, sheltering in doorways from the cold night air.  It breaks my heart to see the Big Issue seller with yet another set of new bruises and to hear the tale of the guy whose sleeping bag was set light the night before. 

As I pull my coat more closely around me I know that the chill I feel is not entirely about the temperature outside, but more from a sense of overwhelming despair about how some of the world's problems can ever be solved.

Joanna Macy says that

 ‘Grace happens when we act with others on behalf of our world.’ 

And I guess that is what I see at Crisis every year. People caring enough to act. Just a one example of that is a woman I will call Karen who volunteered for the first time about three years ago.

The first evening in a Crisis centre is a whirlwind rush of so many things. Guests are welcomed to a centre where they can eat, shower, get their clothes mended, see doctors and dentists, access the internet, make a call to a loved one, find a bed for the night. Each centre is run by a group of volunteers whose day jobs probably ill-prepare them for what they find themselves doing. Spending time talking with the guests is something we encourage all our volunteers to do, because many of our guest spend their days being ignored, avoided, or worse. Talking to them is one of the most important things that we do.

During the rush of that first evening I passed Karen a few times, as she sat quietly knitting and chatting to guests. 

There was something deeply calming about her presence and her focus and I found that I slowed a little every time I passed her. Later that evening I saw her talking to a young couple by the front door who were sleeping on the streets and scared to come in. Over the course of an hour she patiently coaxed them into the centre to eat, and later I spied her persuading the woman towards the showers. She came back half an hour later clearly delighted to be clean for ‘my man.’ And I watched somewhat hopelessly as the woman and her partner went off again into the night, saying they felt safer together on the streets than they would in a shelter they didn’t know.

Returning the following evening Karen asked if I would mind if she went to see if she could find the woman again, she’d been told by another volunteer that the woman had been seen earlier in the centre very angry and upset. Karen wanted to find out why. When she found her the woman explained that she had been sleeping on the streets for so long that her long dark hair had become thickly matted from tying it in elastic bands and chronic lack of care. There was a huge ball of knotted, matted hair at the nape of her neck, so thick and tight that when she tried to lay down to sleep it hurt her head. As a result, even when she could get to sleep she was frequently woken by the pain. It was clear she was in a lot of distress. After her shower of the evening before she had started to feel hopeful that perhaps the hairdresser might be able to help her. She was angry because she had been told that all they could do was to shave her hair off. Having her head shaved she said would make her feel even more ashamed than she already did. She was inconsolable, her hopes completely dashed.

Every single one of us I think has a reason for volunteering. Something that caused us to make the decision to do so. In talking with Karen about what her reason was she shared with me that she had lost her adult son in a car accident a year or so before. A proud, strong, elegant woman, she spoke of her loss gently and with just the faintest glisten of a tear in her eye.  

Her heartache was very present but so too was her warmth, her openness and her compassion.  

Over the course of the next few days I watch Karen sit with the woman and her partner for hours. She talked with them about their plans for the New Year, helped them get advice,  laughed with them, ate with them. And throughout all of that she combed. For hours and hours she gently teased, combed, untangled and snipped the woman’s hair. For three afternoons and evenings Karen worked with the patience that perhaps only a parent who has lost their own child could summon. 

On the last evening, they walked hand in hand to the hair salon again, where the woman was treated to her first proper haircut in many years. Beautifully blow dried she turned to the Karen and I watched as first they high-fived, and then giggling like teenagers collapsed into a huge tangle of a hug.

As the woman left that last evening Karen and I both said good bye to her and her partner. We never say ‘see you next year’ because we hope, that we won’t. And I’ve never seen them again. Karen returns every year and continues to channel her amazing compassion and patience into heartbreak, hope and high fives.

So, as I contemplate the start of Crisis again this year I hope, somewhat strangely perhaps, that my heart will be broken every day. Because as the poet David Whyte says:

‘Heartbreak is our indication of sincerity…..it may be the very essence of being human, or being on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we find along the way.’

I am lucky enough to care deeply about the work that I do both in my day job and my volunteering and am blessed to be surrounded by many other colleagues who do too. They make me want to do better every day because they deserve the best that I can possibly be. Crisis acts as a special reminder to me though every year.Whilst it is about finding homes for others I always notice that it helps me to come home to myself too. To remember some of the qualities that I want to strive to bring into my life and work every day.

‘The heart is the inner face of your life. The human journey strives to make this inner face beautiful. It is here that loves gathers within you. Love is absolutely vital for human life. For love alone can awaken what is divine within you. In love, you grow and come home to your self. When you learn to love and let yourself be loved, you come home to the hearth of your own spirit. You are warm and sheltered.’

                                                                                                                              John O’Donohue

Crisis also leaves me constantly amazed by just what we can achieve as human beings when we set our mind to do so. And each year it leaves me with a heart full of hope that we have everything we need to deal with the many challenges that our world faces today. We just need to crack on, and act on that hope, regardless of what others might say.

So I’d like to leave you with some of Joanna Macys words about Active Hope and to wish you all adventures in the New Year.

‘Active Hope is not wishful thinking.

Active hope is not waiting to be rescued by some savior

Active hope is waking up to the beauty of life

On whose behalf we can act.

We belong to this world.

The web of life is calling us forward at this time.

We’ve come a long way and are here to play our part.

With Active Hope we realise there are adventures in store,

Strengths to discover, and comrades to link arms with.

Active Hope is a readiness to discover the strengths

In ourselves and in others;

A readiness to discover the size and strength of our hearts

Our quickness of mind, our steadiness of purpose,

Our own authority, our love for life,

The liveliness of our curiosity

The unsuspected deep well of patience and diligence,

The keenness of our senses, and our capacity to lead.

None of these can be discovered in an armchair or without risk.

                                                     

                                                                                          Joanna Macey, Active Hope