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Women in business

, 16 May 2012 07:57:51 GMT

How do you get more women to start up their own businesses? According to Workingmums.co.uk's annual survey, the majority of mums have considered striking out on their own. In part this is because they want to get greater flexibility, but this is by no means the whole story. For instance, it may also be the case that they fancy a bit of a challenge and to try something new which stretches them and allows them to use all their skills.

What is clear is that many choose not to take the next step to actually starting up a business. According to the All Party Parliamentary Small Business Group, the main barriers to setting up a business include a lack of guidance or rather too much guidance in too many different places and access to finance. It calls for a simplification of the information available and, in the case of women, for more linking up between Job Centres and women's networks to channel women towards the information and support they need. It also mentions the need for more business mentors.

At the launch of the report, there was a discussion about government financial support to help those out of work start up a business, particularly the New Enterprise Allowance Scheme. The APPSBG says it has some flaws. One is the requirement for people to have been unemployed for six months before they can access the scheme. It says research shows people who become self-employed during the first six months of unemployment are more likely to have an enterprise which survives after two years than those who have been out of work for longer. Another flaw it highlights is the fact that it only provides the equivalent of Jobseekers' Allowance for the first three months then half that amount for the next three. Hardly an incentive for people to start a business, say critics. Work and Pensions Secretary Iain Duncan Smith was challenged at the launch on the latter point.

His main argument was that resources were limited and that it was anticipated the halving of the money in the latter three months would provide an incentive to get the business up running as quickly as possible. But three months? It seems a ridiculously short time. Many entrepreneurs are still not able to pay themselves any money a year into setting up a business. Is it really a good use of government money to set people up to fail?

Business Secretary Vince Cable spoke of the need to cut red tape to free up small businesses to grow and hire more workers. The report also calls for greater deregulation. Cutting red tape seems a good thing in general and it is true that too much complicated paperwork can stifle growth. But it surely depends what is meant by red tape. It seems to embrace hard won employment rights like the right not to be thrown out of your job unfairly. Workingmums.co.uk receives a lot of pleas for advice from women who have been made redundant and many appear to have strong cases for unfair dismissal. In a time of economic downturn, cutting red tape might be more about freeing businesses up to fire than to hire.

A triumph of planning

, 14 May 2012 07:51:00 GMT

This weekend the event that daughter three has been waiting for since before Christmas has finally arrived. Her sleepover seventh birthday extravaganza. The birthday is entirely inspired by daughter one's party in December and she sent out the invitations in December. To exactly the same people as came to daughter one's party, ie daughter one's friends. I did ask if she didn't want to invite a few of her own friends, but at the time she was determined to stick with the pre-teen crowd. She has since drawn up timetables, charts and maps detailing every aspect of the weekend and sent out follow-up invitations.

There were lists of games, food, drink and music all detailed in number order. That girl is going to be a major strategist. Part of the reason for inviting daughter one's friends is that she loves the idea of a sleepover, but is thwarted by the fact that she is only seven and almost all her friends are not yet allowed to do sleepovers. She has started befriending older children at school so that she can invite them for sleepovers, but so far with no success and, of course, there are the monthly sleepovers that she has with toddler boy and me.

At the last minute she decided that she did indeed want to invite her friends around so we incorporated a small party into Saturday's events. This made for a fairly busy Saturday since the first part of the sleepover involved a trip to Lakeside with daughter one's friend [the only one who said yes], a neighbour and her cousin. Everyone was remarkably well behaved, even daughter two who has been complaining for the last week that she has been unfairly treated basically because daughter three has dared to have a birthday. Toddler boy went to sleep.

We rushed back to clean the house while my partner headed off to get the cake and food. Daughter three had put in a special plea to have a shop-bought cake rather than the slightly singed home-made chocolate creations that are my speciality. I had just got the kids started on decorating a birthday banner and getting everyone to sign it when the first person arrived early, just as my brother rang from Australia. I had daughter three's list of games in hand, but had not had the time to mentally prepare myself. No food had yet arrived. "Can I ring you back a bit later?" I asked. "Just expecting an influx of seven year olds." He is used to ringing at any given time over the weekend and hearing the sound of chaos in the background. Any conversation with relatives is usually punctuated by a "No, don't cover your sister in sudocream" and the sound of wailing or a "Nooooooo, stop it now, sorry, the kids are just abseiling down the stairs". My brother - the one in Argentina - is the one I speak to most and he is in a similar position to me, ie, he has small children. I ask him how he is at the start of the conversation, but I kind of know what the response will be. I don't think there has been one occasion in the last six years when the answer has not been "tired and stressed". My dad rings and attempts to talk about politics, which is really a lost cause when children are running about in the background. He starts asking me my views on the euro and I suddenly scream "Stop it now," followed by "Not you, Dad. Yes, I think the current parity of the dollar and the euro is interesting. Stop strangling your sister."

In any event, the party went fairly well. We did shark attack, the Haribo game [in which you eat as many Haribo as you can after you throw a six and put on a coat, scarf and gloves and before someone else throws a six. It's a real motivator. It should be used at business meetings to get the ideas flowing], pass the parcel [I forgot to put something in each layer so had to give out sweets as each layer was unwrapped], the tasting game [wherein children are blindfolded and have to guess that they are eating Marmite and mustard] and the Olympic dance championships [complete with a medal ceremony at the end]. The food eventually arrived and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. Then the sleepover proper began with a slightly wilting core party team. Daughter one and her friend were unbelievably asleep by 11, as was party girl. The other two were reading their books quietly when I went to check and no-one woke up at 6am. A success, I think.

To Calcutta with Love!

, 12 May 2012 15:54:23 GMT

On my “free day”, thanks to a good friend Gauri, I had the honor amongst others, to have tea with Sabyasachi (or “dada” as I would have addressed him if I was in Calcutta, our home town). For those of you who know him, I need not say much more. For those who do not, when it comes to design and creativity, Sabya is an Indian icon. He graduated from the National Institute of Fashion Technology in India in 1999 and twelve years and many awards later is one of the top most celebrated designers in the world.

Sabya in person was the Sabya I had seen in print. "Down to earth"y look and a warm persona. Sabya spoke to us of materials and processes. He spoke of history and embroidery and the weaves and threads that go into making his clothing what it is. He also spoke of the “hands” that go into making his clothes and accessories look the way they do. There is only one of each piece since they are all handmade by ladies, a lot of whom have either suffered from domestic violence or those whose husbands rely on them as sole bread winners of the family. Sabya not only “empowers”women that wear his clothing (anyone who owns anything by him will testify to this - it's like owning a piece of history) but also tries to “empower” those women who spend hours making them. This is Sabya's way of giving back to his community.

I also had the pleasure of meeting other inspirational women – all those who inspired and “empowered” me in their own way! Gita Pandit, a Loreto girl from Calcutta who left LH in 1980 in the pursuit of excellence in tennis. Gita is one of those few women in India (or the world) who also has a zero handicap in golf. All this done at a time when sport in India, forget women in sport in India were really non-existent – amazing! Alice Cicolin (www.alicecicolini.com) who was Head of the British Council in Delhi for many years and also the woman who was behind the making of the Indian version of Shakespeare’s Midsummer Night’s Dream – with the use of ten Indian languages all at the same time in the play! Alice now has her own jewellery brand and the pieces she designs are handmade by one of the last few remaining “meenakari” trained artisans in Jaipur. Last but not the least, not to forget Little Natasha Platt, young lady from Delaware, Harvard alum, self-taught in design, who now works for Sabya in India and calls Calcutta her home!

Coming back to my “free day”. I owe it completely to Liz Scully. Liz who invited me to a Rethink Retreats (www.rethinkretreats.com) earlier this week taught me a few things but two completely stuck in my head! . The first - every entrepreneur should plan his/her days as "strategy days" (when you do all the thinking and researching around your business), "focus days" (when you do all the work, make calls, meet clients) and "free days" (as implied when you do absolutely nothing and take a rest)! The second thing Liz asked us me to do was, even in the worst of times, no matter how big or small, write down what you have to be grateful for every single day.   Yesterday, I was grateful for both my “free day” and also to my music teacher for canceling my tea-time lesson. Playing music, I find is therapeutic for my soul but meeting and hearing inspirational people and stories is more “empowering”! Here's to owning a piece of history in time.   

You can find out more about my work at www.empowerbizsupport.com

Pressing on

, 11 May 2012 07:27:41 GMT

Why does a bank holiday week actually feel longer than a normal week? Perhaps it is because it is a bit like working a compressed week: you still have the same amount of stuff to do, but in only four days. Plus this week I have had to make a Viking costume [basically a rehash of the Victorian costume from a few weeks ago with an added "cloak"]. And it was toddler boy's parents' evening. I think they have to do it for Ofsted, but it's hard to come up with anything to say as I know exactly what toddler boy is like since a) he lives with us and b) I speak to the nursery staff every day. Nevertheless, he enjoyed giving his sisters a tour of his favourite toys.

It's not been a good week all in all. All the medical visits last week seem to have been fruitless so we will probably have to do them again - toddler boy still has an infected finger despite the antibiotics and daughter one is still having acute migraines. Plus bits of the house are falling off and the car's in the garage.

I've been working till around midnight every night to catch up on work. When I was reading the Karren Brady autobiography, I would read out passages to my partner and comment on her workaholic tendencies. "She sends messages about work to David Sullivan in the middle of the night," I said. "She never takes a holiday." My partner looked at me. "Sounds familiar," he stated.

The thing with working round the family is that you never actually stop working. It's probably the only way, but it would be nice to have some time off. I was fantasising the other day about taking a morning off just for myself. Just to sleep or read a book. But then I discounted it on the grounds that I would have to do another compressed week just to catch up. Better, as Karren Brady says, to just press on.

The business of beauty or the beauty of business?

, 10 May 2012 17:28:58 GMT

Neetu is 35 and Nepalese. She started working in a nail salon at 13 and started a small business after moving to London in 1988. She goes to people’s homes and does beauty treatments for them – she can do you a mani-pedi, blow dry your hair and make you look “shiny and new” for one third of the cost of any salon.
A mother of three, Neetu is the quintessential mumpreneur; she acquired a skill and now uses it to support her family.
Her business is all word of mouth; she gets clients through referrals and her marketing costs are zero.
She has no overheads and therefore can run a model, which is low-cost; passing on this cost advantage to her consumers and also keeping a healthy margin for herself.
Because of this cost advantage, she also has very limited competition.
Neetu has no child care at home so only works when her children are in school.
When she goes home at night, she helps her kids with their homework and does the cooking.
I proposed that Neetu try and become an Avon sales representative.
Since she is already in the business of beauty, I figured she could potentially earn some extra cash by selling beauty products to her clientele.
I will now explore this option for her.
In her spare time, Neetu also plays beauty salon with her girls just like a lot of us mothers!
Her girls and we have a lot to learn from Neetu.
While Neetu makes us look “shiny and new” on the outside, her business model is “simple and smart” on the inside.

A day at the fair

, 10 May 2012 09:38:22 GMT

So it was Flora Day down in Helston this week - oh, you know... the floral dance... Terry Wogan did the best version.

Anyway, this meant that the day before on the bank holiday Monday, the fair came to town.

Ah the fair. You can imagine my joy...

The noisy whizzy rides whose tattooed 'attendents' (sic) don't fill you with confidence that they are 100% safe, the over-priced burgers and candy floss, the endless 'win a prize every time' stalls where your consolation prize is invariably a tiny mock Winnie The Pooh toy that looks like it has just suffered a stroke.

But the kids love it. They'd had this one in their diary for a good few weeks. Even so, all day Monday I was hoping that actively encouraging them to watch whatever was on the Disney Channel might make them forget. Huh, no chance.

'Think of the donuts,' my wife said on the car journey there as I struggled to wipe the grumpy expression from my face.

Ah, the donuts. The wife loves the donuts. You have to buy them in batches of five and by the time you have your second, they've gone all cold and soggy. No, donuts weren't doing it for me. Also it had just started pelting it down.

We stopped en route at a cashpoint where I withdrew £30 to last us the afternoon. I almost considered just making it twenty, but that would have been a fool's game. I just about managed to write off the three tenners as I stuffed them, albeit very temporarily, in my wallet.

We arrived and both son and daughter headed straight onto one of the fun houses. Pretty good value for money at £1.50. They go on and there are all sorts of slides, ball pools and mazes to keep them amused for ages. Plenty of time for the wife and I to grab a burger and a tea, to heck with the cost. Except moments later the boy re-emerged from the fun house, not wanting to go on it after all. Fortunately, we got his money back which paid for his candy floss. As for the daughter, she soon came out too after going round the house just once in double quick time. I tried to explain about 'getting value for money' and that she should go back in for longer, but I wasn't going to push it. The plus side was that it meant we'd be home sooner.

Better still was that we soon chanced upon some 'credit crunch' rides. A quid a go for the cars that wind up and then down on a circle track... hmm, this wasn't going to keep them amused for too long. At five and seven, the teacup days are over.

No, we had to dig a little deeper to keep them amused. Two quid a throw for a big Mary Poppins-esque merry-go-round ride, £2.50 on a darts game for a guaranteed and surprisingly healthy-looking Scooby Doo, two quid each for three turns on the helter skelter (the only rip-off in my opinion, especially as it is one of the few attractions where electricity isn't required) and then came the highlight: the circus bungee...

In turn the kids were strapped to a bungee so they could bounce up and down on a trampoline. They both loved it, with my danger boy son reaching new heights and swinging back and forwards when he wasn't really supposed to.

But then tears set in. The bungeeing hadn't come cheap - £3.50 each for a five minute go. It meant we were down to our last three pounds - just enough for a go on one of the slightly inferior fun houses. The boy desperately wanted to try and win a toy husky dog, but we didn't have enough money. The daughter was mortified when her mum came after her on the house, convinced she'd hurt her leg.

In short, having been the grumpiest upon setting off, I was turning out to be the one who'd enjoyed the fun fair the most. Of course, the kids' tears would dry and later they'd reflect happily on all the things they'd done. But what about the wife? Ah...

Well, let's just reflect on three rules to make a trip to the fair go with a bang. Firstly, withdraw a set amount of cash to spend, write it off and don't go back for any more. Secondly, make the kids aware of when there is only enough for one more ride each. And thirdly, perhaps most important of all, whatever you do...

For goodness sake, make sure you put enough aside for the donuts.

Sorry, wife.

Queen's speech

, 09 May 2012 07:37:01 GMT

It's the Queen's speech today and apparently the Government is going to pull some family-friendly stuff out of the bag. It all appears to be stuff that has been announced before, but, who knows, there may be some surprises. The main ones for parents are whether the extension of the right to request flexible working is opened up to all employees. That would really change how flexible working is seen. It would mean it would no longer be seen as about giving women with children part-time options. Indeed, Workingmums' surveys consistently show that women are looking for all kinds of flexibility in the workplace, with flexi hours being the most popular form. HR experts in some of the most progressive companies [who do offer flexible working to all employees] say the ground has shifted considerably as a result with women's networks now being more focused on career progression while working flexibly rather than just negotiating part-time roles.

The Chartered Institute of Personnel and Development says a tiny percentage - just 4% - of employers have had problems with current flexible working legislation since it was brought in 10 years ago. The benefits are clear from research. They include greater employee motivation and improved productivity. A report by Regus this week suggests the productivity has improved as a result of employees finding greater work life balance.

The other big issue for parents which is likely to be in the Queen's speech is shared parenting. Last week, Working Families and Netmums issued a press release showing that the majority of mums are against plans to reduce to 18 weeks the presumed period women will take maternity leave with the remaining leave currently available to women becoming “flexible parental leave” available to either parent. The two organisations would prefer to see the default period raised to 26 weeks to avoid women being put under pressure to return too early. This was reported in some of the press as women being against shared parenting, which is incorrect. Shared parenting will increase the options available to parents, even though few men are likely to take it up mainly because economically it will not make sense. It's a start, though, and one that could shift the mindset which suggests, as Elin Hurvenes of the Professional Boards Forum told me, that, whereas in Norway couples become parents, in the UK women become mothers - with all that mean in terms of career progression and social equality.

The road to Basildon

, 07 May 2012 10:00:18 GMT

After only nine months since we last went out for the evening, my partner booked us in for an electronic music extravaganza on Saturday. My partner is a bit of a Depeche Mode fan. So much so that when he arrived in England almost 20 years ago, he asked if I could take him to Basildon, where they are from, to visit what he was assured would be a lovely English village. The electronic music extravaganza was taking place in Basildon. It would be our second ever visit.

I was told that people all over Europe were coming. I anticipated a big nightclub packed with thousands of 80s retro types. "Pull in here," said my partner as we passed a sign to Pitsea FC social club. We walked into the bar. It was nearly empty except for a balding bloke wearing a Tubeway Army t-shirt. Polish tv was playing in the background.

I had chosen to wear black, mainly because the black dress was the only one which didn't need ironing, but fortunately black seemed to be the theme for the event. We went into the bigger room next door. It was full of people of around our age. It is at such events that you realise how much you have aged. A band was playing. I think they were French. The lead singer was wearing a lot of eyeliner and a sort of military jacket. The woman "rapper" was in red angel wings. They sang a song about vampires and another whose chorus sounded remarkably like "I want a Chrysler" [but this could just be me since we have just got rid of our Chrysler. "Could have sold it to eyeliner guy," I remarked to my partner]. They then launched into a song about "walking the streets of Basildon". This was followed by a rap by the woman with wings about feeling the magic of Basildon. I recalled the concrete shopping centre. Outside of England, where Depeche Mode are demi-gods, Basildon probably has a hugely romantic image - similar to Berlin. This appears to be despite some of these people actually having been to Basildon. Rather than being inspired by Basildon, I think Depeche Mode were maybe more inspired by a desire to get out of Basildon.

My partner had chosen to wear a sort of black knitted mohican hat, similar to one that Martin Gore had modelled at one point. Immediately he put it on, two rather enormous smiling German women started taking pictures of him as if he were in some way the spirit of Martin. The next band came on. They consisted of a synth player who, in typical 1980s style, looked like he'd rather be somewhere else and a bloke in an orange suit with huge glasses who looked like he had stepped out of the Buggles. He was rather insistent that we all put our hands in the air and dance. He sang a song about UFOs, I think, and another called Venom. I looked around. People seemed to be enjoying themselves. "This one has been played on a few radio stations," he said, introducing his next song. He seemed to take himself very seriously. The next band came on. They were local Basildonians. They kept their coats on throughout. Possibly this was to look cool. Or maybe they were just cold. The circulation system slows down as you age. The music was okay. The lyrics were verging on Westlife.

We headed home, singing along to Erasure. Now there was a band who were inspired by electronic music [and possibly Basildon - Vince Clarke was in Depeche Mode, after all] and with some proper lyrics. The most interesting bit of the event, it has to be said, was looking at the crowd and reflecting on how much music is at the heart of a really important time in the shaping of people's identities. There were probably a lot of parents who had got the night off like us. They were having a good time. If I had liked the music more, I would have had a good time too. As it was, I felt a bit like an intruder on someone else's memories.

Getting out of the house

, 04 May 2012 07:41:17 GMT

The school run hit a new low this week. First, toddler boy was up at 5.30am and ready for action. Second, being ready for action currently involves microwaving anything that takes his fancy. Theoretically, I should be able to stop him from doing this as he is very small and the microwave is not within his reach. However, he is fiendishly clever and gets a small chair to stand on. He knows how to programme the microwave and, when I am doing something else with the other kids [eg getting daughter one out the door on time, a feat she has yet to master], he starts gathering material to put in. I only just rescued the lemon in time. His next object of choice was a playing card.

Meanwhile, daughter three was languishing in bed with a temperature and a sore throat and required medicine. Toddler boy also required medicine for his infected thumb. However, toddler boy does not like his medicine and spat it all over me. The doctor had also recommended bathing his thumb in salty water. I am taking bathing to mean essentially dunking because he won't keep it in any longer than around three seconds.

As I was cleaning toddler boy, I decided to change his nappy. I had not at that precise moment noticed that he had done a rather big poo. As soon as I whipped off his nappy, however, he sprinted away from me and sat on the girls' school clothes. Lovely. He then escaped upstairs with the poo still hanging from his bottom. After that I did my usual round of running up and down the stairs about 100 times getting people ready and doing my "lucky sweep" which I think counts as housework. I dressed toddler boy at the last minute to avoid him taking off his socks and shoes before we had even left the house. It didn't work. He was barefoot and coat-less within seconds. I redressed him.
Then just as I was heading out the door daughter two revealed that the juice in her packed lunch had leaked all over her sandwiches. With the near certainty that we were going to be, yet again, slightly late, I headed to the kitchen to redo the packed lunch. This, of course, gave toddler boy enough time to get his shoes and socks off again. I let out a scream of anguish. "I HATE the school run. It is surely a form of torture," I shouted to no-one in particular. The problem is that the school run is totally relentless. Even when you have completed a marathon version, you know that you have to do the whole thing again the next day and for, I have calculated, possibly nine more years unless I find a job which starts at dawn and allows me to pass the baton to my partner.