Changing the dynamics in business
Helena Morrissey has spent years as the CEO of a major finance firm in London, founded the 30% Club — which campaigns for gender balance on boards — and is a married mother of nine. In her new book, A Good Time to Be a Girl: Don’t Lean In, Change the System, Morrissey argues for a new approach to diversity and inclusion in the digital age.
So I’m telling you to take some risks, to experiment and to stretch yourself. That may make you feel uneasy. Let me share one experience from my school days that taught me the value of overcoming that natural reluctance, that fear of failure.
My first real understanding of how being a girl might bring specific challenges came in the sixth form, when at 16 I found myself alone in a class of boys taking Maths at my co-educational state school. We also had two male Maths teachers. Quickly exposed to the difficulties that came with being “different,” I wasn’t just left out, but teased mercilessly, particularly when I got anything wrong, which happened often. A vicious circle developed: The more pressure I felt, the less confident and more flustered I became, which only worsened my academic performance. At the end of the first term, I felt miserable and isolated. My parents encouraged me to consider changing subjects. I was reluctant, partly because I could see that my loss in confidence was contributing to the problem. I needed to break the downward spiral.
This class was the “double maths” group — we were taking Maths and Further Maths A levels. The Further Maths course involved 12 topics. Six were relatively straightforward — but the examiners therefore set quite unpredictable questions that would test real mastery of each subject. Six other topics were deemed hard, but only a narrow set of questions would ever be asked. A candidate had to answer “just” six questions. A possible way through occurred to me: by mastering the six difficult topics I could predict the questions and be confident that I could answer them.
This may sound an over-ambitious plan for someone towards the bottom of the class, but it worked. I plugged away, one topic at a time, till I conquered six. My new approach and very gradual success (vaguely) impressed the boys and our teachers. Slowly, I became more accepted. Alongside that personal triumph, I could see how the dynamic of that sixth-form Maths class changed. At the start of our two-year course, the group was competitive, and no one helped each other out, even when none of us could solve a problem, but gradually we became more collaborative. We actually started having fun. We also spurred each other on to greater success. It was many years since a pupil from the school had gone to either Oxford or Cambridge University: that year, five of us won places.
One of the results of this episode was that I gained in confidence; but — even more significantly — I learned to find a way through in what felt like an impossible situation. This, in fact, is one of the most important tools needed if we are to fulfil our potential in the workplace (and in life generally). Any career is more of a labyrinth than a ladder; there are twists and turns for everyone, man or woman, and dealing with the setbacks, learning how to overcome the natural human reaction of feeling discouraged, of wanting to walk away, is vital.
The thing about labyrinths is that if you keep going, even when you seem to be walking back on yourself, you do reach the centre. My daughter Flo and I have walked a labyrinth together several times and every time the experience has a powerful impact, reminding us that we can reach our destination, as long as we persevere.
But we have to stay in the labyrinth to get to the centre. Many years after my sixth-form experience, Lord Davies conducted a survey as part of his Women on Boards review. Over 2,600 people responded — almost 90 per cent of them women. When asked to “describe any steps you took to overcome particular issues you faced” (in progressing your career) the most frequent response was “I left the job.” As my own early career experience showed, there may be moments when that is really the only way forward — but it should not be our default option.
Things will never change and we will never learn how to overcome obstacles if we always abandon ship. If the cost of child care, a real problem in the U.K. in particular, where families spend around a third of their income on nurseries and child minders, is the issue, discuss that with your boss. I’ve seen cases where managers simply haven’t done the maths — and would actually much rather see what can be done to help than see women leave because it doesn’t pay to work. If your career potential is theoretically encouraging but the reality less so, you need to make a judgment — and I would base that on whether the culture is right, whether you have allies who can help you emerge on the other side, or whether you are on your own, in which case it’s time to move on.
I have seen many more people regret not trying something than trying and falling short. But we do need to deal with the unpredictability of the outcome when we stretch ourselves, to learn to see our shortcomings as just that, rather than fatal blows. I have definitely tested the outer boundaries of my capabilities, and there were moments when I realized I had taken on too much.
In March 2013, I was asked by Nick Clegg, then deputy prime minister, to conduct an independent review into the processes and culture within the Liberal Democrats, and to make recommendations for change. The review was prompted by a series of high-profile allegations that the party had failed to act on complaints of sexual harassment made against a former chief executive. I was keen to help if I could and was particularly interested in the focus on culture.
As I gathered evidence for the review, it quickly became clear that the cultural challenges — not just in the Liberal Democrats but in party politics generally — are even more acute than in the corporate sector. Party politics are intrinsically intertwined with the strong forces of personal power and ideology. Intense shared beliefs, coupled with an overt competitiveness in parliamentary politics, create a different situation than in a company. When I was disappointed to be passed over for promotion by my first employer, I was able to leave and find employment elsewhere, at a firm that suited me better. If this early career disappointment had been within the only political party that fitted with my strong ideological beliefs, finding an opportunity elsewhere wouldn’t have been an option.
Seeing these issues up close, interviewing people whose whole careers, friendships and in some cases family lives were inextricably tied up with a political party, was an intense experience. The vulnerability of young researchers, interns and volunteers working for powerful politicians was both obvious and disturbing. At the same time, employment practices were often much less formal and protective than in business, as subsequent revelations across Westminster have sadly corroborated.
I needed to undertake a comprehensive review, to hear from each and every person who said they had experienced bullying or harassment. At the same time, I couldn’t let the review encroach too far on either my job or my family, so I gave myself just six weeks to complete it. This was a Herculean task, and I was on my own, having committed to complete confidentiality for the witnesses. I got up at 3 a.m. each day and worked throughout the weekends. This inevitably took its toll on my health and family life. By the time I emerged, I knew I could not accept such a task again in the context of other big responsibilities.
As we try to encourage the next generation, parents, teachers and mentors need to strike a delicate balance. We do not want girls to be discouraged (especially when their opportunities are greater than ever before) — but neither should we give the impression that everything is solved just yet. I have spoken at many schools; one of the best events was hosted by Wellington College, a private, co-educational school, when Sir Anthony Seldon was an innovative and inspiring headmaster.
Wellington had invited girls from six other local schools to join their own sixth-form girls at a conference entitled Girls at the Top. What stood out was the candour of the speakers. The message running throughout the day was that the girls had wonderful opportunities ahead but also should be aware that the world was not quite equal. There was no sense of trying to take the wind out of their sails, more of creating awareness, to help them make the right decisions and not fall at the first hurdle if they suffered setbacks.
One speaker, a headmistress, also pointed out that while it might feel very distant now, if the girls thought they might want to have children this was something to bear in mind when they were thinking about a career choice. She wasn’t discouraging them from aiming for the very top of their chosen field; simply to be mindful of other life ambitions. It’s easy to compartmentalize decisions, but they are all connected.
A (male) executive complained to me, “Young people seem not to just want a job, they want an odyssey.” I thought that it was marvellous to want an epic journey — and I want to encourage you to embark on your own odyssey. Women at all levels have been shown to want work with a purpose beyond earning money and getting promotions. Many of us feel this particularly acutely after having children; after all, the alternative way we might be spending our time is with them, which sets a high bar for fulfilment at work. Now the evidence suggests that as the next generation thinks ahead, both boys and girls want work with “meaning,” employers whose values align with their own, and balance in their lives.
Things will never change and we will never learn how to overcome obstacles if we always abandon ship