Nicky Roche, formerly a big cheese at the Government Olympic Executive gave the after dinner speech at a networking event I went to the other week.  And jolly interesting she was on the nuts and bolts of putting together an event of such mind-boggling complexity as the 2012 Games.

It was clear listening to her that women played a huge role in delivering the Games, although that was far from clear if you were on the outside of the big  bubble.

“Women were in the second tier,  it was the men who were on the news” she said.  “Women were leading teams and doing it well but were not at the top table.”  And when they had opportunities to shine, like when they were in meetings with the Prime Minister, it was the men who took the spotlight.  “There was a lot of alpha male behaviour.  The men loved it.  I didn’t care.  I was doing a good job.  I knew I was doing a good job. I didn’t mind about the plaudits”.

In questions at the end she was asked how women could tackle limelight-hogging behaviour  by male colleagues.  She was surprisingly ambivalent about whether they should try.  “Men and women have different attitudes to being at the top” she said.  ”Sometimes women just value different things”.  She commented that she knows women who have come close to the very top, especially in the Civil Service, but have realised that, for them, it’s not worth the sacrifices involved.

Ironically she then went on to tell some hair-raising stories about working for Margaret Thatcher – it was the day after the funeral and the Baroness was much on people’s minds.  Now there was a lady who had no problem with being at the top.

My younger self would have been appalled at this – I think my current self still is, a bit.  Of course women should be at the top table and if they’re doing the jobs then they should get the recognition (though I can think of more satisfying rewards than a pat on the head from the PM).  Partly I suspect that she’s right.  I too know bright, talented, experienced hard-working women, who are working below their capacity because leaping through the hoops of a permanently on-call senior job that takes them away from their families and other interests just isn’t worth the candle.  Maybe we just aren’t as driven to get to the top as men.  Maybe when push comes to shove we are less prepared to sacrifice family life than them.  Maybe they just don’t feel that they have the choice to hold back.  I know what Margaret Thatcher would say – but then I never really counted her as much of a role model.

Lotus eating in SW2

I spent my 20s racketing around doing (generally) fun, creative, astonishingly poorly paid jobs, living in hovels.  The flat I rented in Brixton had no heating. In the winter,  getting dressed to get into bed often involved putting on more layers than getting dressed to go out.  It did have lots of cupboard space but none of it was usable because of the mould on the inside.  If you pulled the bedroom curtains too hard you dislodged the curtain poles, which were tied with string to nails knocked into the wall.

It was the last in a long line of shared houses and bedsits which took me  from leaving university to buying a place of my own; which I did when I found someone I wanted to settle into domesticity with.  Fortunately, this happened at the end of  the last recession – at just about the last time in the history of London when it was possible to buy a house in Zone 2  on one person’s salary (he was out of work at the time) without robbing a bank first.

They do things differently now – they have no choice.  I was in a meeting yesterday with a successful 28-year-old professional who lives at home with his mum.  He’s saving for a deposit on a flat and could probably just  afford it now, but doesn’t want a 90% mortgage,  because he wants to be sure that he will have paid his mortgage off before he’s 55.  This is alien on so many levels.  

Apart from anything else, when I was 28 it never occurred to me that one day I would be 55.  I’m not sure I was unusually feckless, maybe I was, but planning – for mortgages, middle age, retirement wasn’t something I  ever thought about.   I would have been horrified by the idea of having to go home after university and live with my parents – however much I love them, and however comfortable their home was. There were places to rent when I needed them and if I ever thought about the future at all, I had a vague expectation that when I was grown up enough to want to buy a house, I’d have scrambled far enough up the jobs ladder to be able to afford it.  

My timing in life has always been impeccable (I claim no credit for this).  Among the first generation in my family to be able to go to university, I had a grant and supportive parents and came out with an overdraft which seemed monstrous at the time, but was laughably small compared to a student loan of £9k pa.  I left university at a point when there were jobs for graduates to do and affordable (if scuzzy)  places to rent and be independently foolish in ‘til something better came along.  

There’s a thought-provoking piece in today’s Guardian about demographic change and what it means for universities which includes this:

Commenting on patterns of immigration in the US, Jack Donaghy, in the TV comedy 30 Rock, puts it this way: “The first generation works their fingers to the bone. Second generation goes to college and innovates new ideas. The third generation goes snowboarding and takes improv classes.”

I feel like I’m part of Donaghy’s third generation.  My colleague – and my children, although they’re a lot younger than him – aren’t so lucky.  They’re so much more grown-up than we were at their age.  So aware that life is hard, so much more constrained.  Thank God I’m not 28 any more.  

Drying out the walls

Five pieces of free advice for customer services departments, hard-won from five months dealing with my buildings insurance company…

1.  Make it easy for your customers to talk to you.  This is  the 21st century.  Embrace it.  Use email.   If you INSIST on using snail mail to conduct your business, build in some way of letting people know that  letters have arrived – you could do it via email!

2.  One person dealing with an issue helps your customers feel more secure.  Insurance claims can be complicated and take a while to sort out.  It would help your customers’ blood pressure if they had one person to deal with, rather than having to repeat the same information every time they speak to you.  Oh, and sending out letters giving the name of “your personal claims adviser” and sending a different name every time doesn’t help.  

3.  Keep your customers informed.  If they’re contacting you about a building insurance claim, something drastic has happened to their home.  That’s their biggest asset and the possession in which they have most invested emotionally as well as financially.  They want to know  you’re on their side.  They want to know what’s happening and they want to understand a process which they might never have had to deal with before.  Tell them what’s going on.  Don’t make them chase you for information.  Don’t assume they know what’s going to happen.  Put stuff in writing.  There is more information on my insurers’ website about how to buy a toy version of their  mascot than there is about what might happen if you need to make a claim.

4. Make it easy for your customers to tell you how they feel.   I mentioned the fact that I didn’t know what was going on with my claim when I was on the phone to them a couple of weeks ago – just after I’d had a phone call out of the blue from a “disaster recovery company” confirming that they would be coming to the house the next day to install their equipment.  I’ve now had an email request  to give the insurers the details of my “complaint” so that they can improve their service in future.  Which is nice.  Except the email just links to a standard multiple choice form about how satisfied I was (or was not) with the member of staff who dealt with my complaint.  It’s not the staff I’m worried about, it’s the  process that needs changing.  There is nowhere for me to tell them what I’m concerned about. It looks like a tick-box exercise, not a serious attempt to engage with a problem.

5.  Communicate  Actually all of this boils down to one piece of advice.  Communicate with your customers.   Put yourself in their shoes.  Mentally walk through the process your company asks your customers to go through when they deal with you.  What would you like to know at the beginning, middle and end of the process?  How would you want to be dealt with while it’s grinding on?  Do that.  It’s not hard.  A nodding dog should be able to do it.

Competitive, difficult exams for which pupils must prepare by memorising large amounts of facts and concepts will promote motivation, solidify knowledge and guarantee standards.

Now, you could reach for the Dickens and quote Gradgrind to discuss this.  Or you can go a bit further back in time and let William Hazlitt debunk it for you:

William Hazlitt self portrait 1802

“The things which a boy is set to learn at school and on which his success depends are things which do not require the exercise either of the highest or the most useful faculties of mind.  Memory … is the faculty chiefly called into play, in conning over and over repeated lessons by rote… A lad with a sickly constitution and no very active mind who can just retain what is pointed out to him will generally be at the head of the form. ” (From  On the Ignorance of the Learned, 1820-ish)

And given the subject of the feature article in G2 on Eton and the old boy network, it’s worth remembering that Hazlitt also pointed this out – almost 200 years ago:

 It should not be forgotten that the least respectable character among modern politicians was the cleverest boy at Eton

I recommend everyone,  from comms strategists and policy wonks to the merely socially curious,  take a look here  for a fascinating overview of British social attitudes in 2012, compiled by Ipsos Mori.

The research was presented at the Government Communications Network  last week and generated a flurry of startling factoids on Twitter – like this one:

more children between the ages of 2 and 5 can use a smartphone than can tie their own shoelaces.

There’s a mass of useful information for planners in the report.  I’ve  gathered together some of the insights revealed during the debate which highlight some important trends and generational differences:

• On average each UK household owns 3 different types of Internet-enabled devices
• For the 1st time, over half (52%) of all calls are made via mobile phones
• Big differences in methods of communications: 16-24s heavily text reliant. Over 65s opposite, voice-based
• 1/3 of 16-24 year olds live in a mobile-only home. More than double UK average of 15%
• 8/10 people in UK have Internet access. Figure drops for over 55s
• Implication is of increased polarisation between young and old. Rise of the smart phone. Texting as a mass medium.  TV remains strong. Young people are switching off the radio. Post is still v important to older people
• BT and Virgin’s superfast broadband services were available to around 60% of homes by March 2012

It’s clear  that a broad mass of people of all ages are perfectly comfortable in an online world and have multiple means of accessing it.  The generational divide isn’t as clear cut as you might think – here are some more statistics, from the Forster Company’s overview of age in the UK:

• 47% of 55 – 75 year olds connect to their friends with either Skype or instant messenger services
• 45% of 55 – 75 year olds spend up to 30 hours on the internet a week
• 33% of over 55s use social networks
• The fastest growing group of Facebook users is aged 50+

We’re not all digital natives yet

But it’s  also  clear that while many of the over 55s are fine online,  a significant minority aren’t - yet.  That’s an important issue for policy-makers.  Time will eventually iron out the difference until everyone left standing is a digital native , but we’re not there yet.  This makes the government’s strategy of making public service delivery “digital by default” by 2015 look slightly optimistic.

If people have to access the services they need online, what happens to those (currently 20%+ of the over 55s, according to the Ipsos Mori research)  who don’t have internet access?

If people over the age of 65 are more comfortable with having a conversation than dealing in “text-based communication”, how easy will they find negotiating an online application form for vital services like pensions or social care?

The recent story about the shortcomings of the helpline for the Police and Crime Commissioner elections didn’t inspire confidence:

[A whistleblower]  who is working at an Electoral Commission call centre dealing with queries about the election, told the Guardian that he spoke to hundreds of older people every day who could not access the information online. They were referred to a “very temperamental automated phoneline” at the Home Office, and then were only given a list of names and no real information”

And how long will it take before superfast broadband is available everywhere so that online applications can be done speedily even in remote rural areas?

Mary Portas comes to the Roman Road

I’m not generally a fan of reality television.  What you usually get is a condensed version of events, following a story arc which goes something like:  stage 1. Presenter meets people with a problem.  2. Conflict, personality clashes, things start going badly (ad break) 3. Recap – presenter worries that he/she can’t turn things round this time 4. Presenter comes up with plan to turn things round – will it work?  (ad break) 5. Plan works.  6. Final triumph, admissions all round that it was worth the heartache along the way.  7. End credits

But even knowing all that.  Even with my most cynical head on, I can’t help hoping really hard that the magical Mary Portas effect will somehow be able to  help the Roman Road.

One upon a time on the Roman Road…

The entrance to the Roman Road

The Roman Road, used to be one of the attractions of  living in this part of the east end.  You could do your everyday shopping in the supermarket then mooch up and down the Road and along the market where you could get everything from children’s toys to vinyl records, a wrought iron table to a photograph album,  a packet of pins to a table lamp.  There were 38 fruit and veg stalls on the Roman Road market twenty years ago – I know this because Paul, who owns one of the last two still there told me so this afternoon, when he announced that he’s packing up and leaving the market at Christmas.

Most people think that the market started to decline when the supermarket shut down and people had to go elsewhere to buy the basics.  Now what you can mainly get on the Roman Road is cheap stuff and expensive credit.  Half a dozen pawnbrokers have opened up, there are several pound shops, some payday loan companies and a couple of betting shops.  There are some signs of life even now and some great new shops bucking the trend, but generally it’s a sad shadow of what it used to be.  Enter Mary P…

A ray of hope?

A small team of volunteers (which I’ve recently joined) put in a bid to be one of the so-called Portas Pilots - a scheme to revitalise the nation’s declining high streets.  They didn’t get the money, but they have won a smaller sum as one of DCLG’s Town Teams.  There are modest plans for events to promote the market and the shops in the Road in the run up to Christmas and, hopefully, that will build some momentum and things will keep going next year.  Meanwhile, Mary Portas seems to have taken an interest in the Roman and has been spotted several times, filming for a project she’s working on  for next year.

Let’s hope it works.  There are lots of examples of how markets can support their local neighbourhoods – Broadway Market is one local example, Brixton Market seems to be going from strength to strength, Columbia Road is on  the mainstream tourist trail these days.  But they need to be cherished or they fall into disrepair – I hope we’re not too late.

Suzanne Moore: I find myself, yet again, discussing abortion with two men on a programme which is famously bad at representing women, but…

John Humphrys (outraged, interrupting): Sarah was on yesterday! She happens not to be on this morning! But anyway, go on..

And (I hope) a nation of women yelled in harmony – “Because we’re  obviously only allowed one!”

There is, famously, only one female presenter on the BBC’s flagship radio news programme.  On days when she isn’t on you can go from the 7 o’clock news via the sports report at 7.30 to Thought for the Day at quarter to 8 and hear almost no female voices.   

Monday’s Women in Journalism report on the representation of women in the media graphically demonstrated that the male-dominance of Today is not unusual – 78% of bylines on front page stories are for men, 22% for women; 76% of experts quoted in stories are men, 24% are women (almost an exact inversion of the statistics for victims, of whom 79% quoted are women, 21% men). 

I went to a Fawcett Society debate at the weekend about the lack of women’s voices in the media, the City and politics. It wasn’t much of a debate, frankly. I guess it’s hard to have a thrilling exchange of views on a subject where everyone is in heated agreement. It’s ludicrous that only 4% of CEOs of FTSE 100 companies are women; that there are more millionaires in the cabinet than women; that there is only one woman editor of a national daily newspaper. And I for one am sick of it and of the glacial rate of change.   So, I was cheered to see that the BBC is trying, in a very small way, to do something about increasing the range of voices it listens to.

BBC Academy Female Experts Training Day

findaTVexpert is working with the BBC Academy on a media training day for female experts in Science, History, Politics, Business & Engineering. It’s a fantastic opportunity for female experts who want to put themselves forwards for TV & Media opportunities. Read the below, sign up now – and help spread the word on twitter, Facebook, etc.

As I’ve said here before, if you’re in the wrong the best thing to do is say so.  It gives you a bit of control over what happens next and makes you look less as though you’re trying to wriggle out of the blame.  Mitchell should have ‘fessed up straight away.  If he did call the policeman a “pleb” he should have said so. He certainly shouldn’t have implied that the officer wasn’t telling the truth.  There would have been a bit of argy-bargy in the press over the weekend about Tory toffs with anger management issues.  The Flashman reference would have been tiresomely over-used.  But essentially the story would have been done and dusted by the time the Sunday papers were being put to use as litter-tray lining. 

Instead he gave a non-apology apology, a clarification which left things murkier  “I am very clear about what I said and what I didn’t say. I want to make it absolutely clear that I did not use the words that have been attributed to me.”  As Polly Toynbee pointed out, that just makes everyone believe that he did say the P-word and is trying to cover it up.  It turns an essentially trivial matter into an issue of integrity, puts the party of law and order on a collision course with the police and offers a seemingly endless opportunity for the papers to rehash just why this is so bad for the Tories. 

There’s another law of political PR – that the longer a Minister stays on the front pages apologising for a personal misdeed, the less likely he or she is to remain a Minister.  Let’s see.

The thing that all of them - Harriet Harman, Margaret Hodge, Barbara Follett, Ruth Kelly - had in common with the men I worked for, was their absolute, unshakeable faith that they had what it took to run the country. They may or may not have been right. Politicians have as many personal imperfections as everyone else on the planet. What’s funny about politics is this mismatch of  total self-belief with the reality of what they achieve. As Armando Iannucci said last week “although it’s a big job it’s actually little people“.

But politics is hard. Getting anywhere near to the top demands huge self-confidence. There are no shrinking violets in the Cabinet or Shadow Cabinet.  Which is why the sight of Nicola Murray agonising about walking in a straight line while holding a poppy wreath on last night’s Thick of It made my teeth curl.

I appreciate that a former civil servant complaining about a political satire is like a hotelier arguing that Fawlty Towers didn’t capture the reality of working in the hospitality industry. Being true to life isn’t really the point. I also get that the best comedy comes from putting people into situations they are totally unfitted for – Basil Fawlty again. (And that sequence did give rise to a classic Thick of It-ism “She’s officially a Cenotwat” for which I  forgive them a bit)

But none of the women I ever worked for would have had a problem with walking and poppy-wielding at the same time.  Nor would they need to be told by their male comms advisor (even if he was the incomparable Malcolm Tucker) that they needed to toughen up their act. Nicola Murray shone like a schoolgirl who’d just been noticed by the coolest guy at the disco. Harriet Harman would have eaten him for breakfast then spat out the bits. 

I accept there’s a limit to how many rampant megalomaniacs you can have in one TV programme – especially as this series of  TTOI is trying to reflect a coalition government as well as the opposition, so that’s three sets of dunderheads who need to be differentiated somehow.   I just wish it wasn’t the woman who’s the simpering nitwit while the blokes get on with their plotting. 

And, finally: I do appreciate how bloody annoying it must be for every woman in a TV programme or film to be expected to represent one half of humanity everytime she opens her mouth on screen. But the rarity of showing women in positions of power makes them symbolise something bigger than themselves, like it or not – even in (especially in?) a comedy. 

I really hope the worm turns in the rest of this series.  Not least because Rebecca Front has been one of my favourite comedy performers since we were at university together.  I thought, aged 18, that she was the funniest person I’d ever met.  I’ve followed her career with a proprietorial pride ever since, even though we lost touch years ago.  I still think she’s a genius.  I just think she deserves better.

Olympic Park in simpler times

When I was a student and used to go to the Edinburgh Festival every summer, there was generally a point halfway through when I knew, with absolute certainty, that everyone else in the city had tickets to much better shows than I did – the ones that would win awards but were now sold out.  They were going to cooler parties than I’d been invited to, were having the unforgettable “Edinburgh experience” I craved, while somehow I was trailing behind, too late to join in.I thought I’d grown up and out of that particular anxiety, but I’m starting to get the same feeling about being in London this summer.  Partly this is due to the fact that there’s so damn much going on - most of it within walking distance of my front door.  How can anyone do it all?  How can you even know what’s out there so you can choose the best bits?

But also (I’m rationalising this to myself to find an excuse for being so immature) it’s because every experience I could be having this summer is instantly available to me on my phone.

Via Twitter and Facebook I can see pictures of all the events, hear the music, watch the video and share the reactions of all the people who are out there doing the stuff that I’m not.

This is not making me feel as though I am sharing the experience.  It’s not multiplying the pleasure.  It’s just making me feel uneasy about what I’m missing.  The duty to have an “extraordinary day”, to make the most of this “once in  a lifetime opportunity” – and make sure my children have an unforgettable summer too –  is becoming another chore to fit in along with de-fleaing the cats.

There is a recognised body of academic research into the paradox that having more choice  tends to make people more dissatisfied with their lot.  And there’s a growing number of studies about social media anxiety (this one by Anxiety UK) – though they’re usually focused on the anxiety people feel when cut off from social media, rather than as a result of using it.

For the record I don’t think I have an anxiety disorder, I think I’m just a ludicrously over-competitive person who really needs to calm down a bit.  But as an experiment I’m going to give up on Twitter and Facebook for the duration of the Olympics (or maybe we’ll see how it goes after the opening weekend…)  I managed to resist temptation during last night’s magnificent opening ceremony with nary a twinge. Let’s see if it makes me a more contented Londoner.