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.... I fear they’ve both been shot by having kids
I recently interviewed for a new job in
Switzerland. The interview was held in London
and to my delight, the conversation quickly advanced to discussing details
about relocation. Not only was the job in my dream location, but the role and
the boss seemed fantastic.
As the conversation progressed, a second
interview with another Director was suggested and would be set up the following
week. The plan was to fly me to Switzerland for the next stage. And on the
topic of relocation, I was told, “It’ll be no problem initially as we would
just put you up in a hotel until you can find somewhere to live”.
Yep, I definitely thought the interview was
going well. I replied that ‘I’ was actually four, as I have two children and a
partner (and I’m pretty sure there are morals, if not laws, about just skipping
the country without them). Surprise was
quickly followed by a commitment to get HR to contact me next week to help with
knowledge of schools etc.
I left Kensington beaming and I travelled
home excitedly researching Swiss properties and schools (and imagining my
impending fuller figure from a new diet of fondue and chocolate). Premature?
Hmm, maybe, but it was a pretty good way to leave an interview wasn’t it?
I spoke to my Dad that evening, who was
concerned I had dropped the ‘I-am-a-Mother” bombshell. I reassured him, stating that if it were a
problem, then the role and company would not be right for me. (And anyway, a
next interview was in place and HR would call me, so that clearly wasn’t an
issue).
·
The
first week passed. Must be very busy.
·
The second
week passed. Yes, very busy indeed. And maybe ill from doing too much, propping
up an incomplete team.
·
Week
three. Perhaps they’re now on holiday. Or maybe the illness is more serious?
How selfish of me to expect contact when they’re that poorly!
My over zealous imagination would have seen
the dog dead, mother infirm and both arms in plaster, unable to lift the phone
(let alone croak out the details of the next interview as advancing glandular
fever would be ravaging the vocal chords). I knew something must have happened.
So I called.
Within 30 seconds I was advised “that
despite my brilliant CV, unfortunately it’s not good news.” Someone with more
relevant sector experience had been found.
How disappointing! The next 16 minutes
& 23 seconds of the call were filled with advice my ‘dream boss’ had gained
following our meeting;
1.
School
opening times are a nightmare (closed Weds & every lunchtime). I would need
a full time nanny to cope, especially as you can’t always leave work at
5pm. And watch out, as an employer will
be able to assess if you can afford an expensive nanny by your salary and judge
if I’d be able to do the job.
2. Then there’s shopping, which is not 24/7
like in London. Working, managing a kids’ schedule and doing the shopping would
be incredibly difficult.
3. Don’t commute! Live and work in the same
place, as adding a train journey to points 1 & 2 would just make things
impossible, as transport links aren’t very good.
4. And consider not mentioning your family to
the next interviewer. Not that that had made any difference in this case of
course, but you never know.
During the call I felt the need to
interject. I have managed to juggle kids, childcare (at a painful £1,350 per month),
shopping and have thrown in an hours’ commute for good measure, whilst working
in demanding roles in London. Also, international schools are open all day and I
have a partner to share these things with.
I wondered how Swiss families managed to
work, have kids AND eat all in the same week! Those professing a higher quality
of life in Switzerland were clearly mistaken. We parted the call exchanging
wishes of future success.
It took me about 10 minutes (and a glass of
wine) for a conspiracy theory to take hold in my head. Was I really pipped at
the post by someone with more relevant experience? Or (please no), was my Dad right?
The role had been re-advertised that
morning, so had it really been filled? My partner asked me if I had any regrets
in having children, as he believed the job would be mine if I had less ‘baggage’.
Amongst the disappointment of my Swiss
bubble being burst, was disbelief. Yes, time had elapsed since the interview,
but it hadn’t been left as “we’ll be in touch”, but rather with a pledge to fly
me over and manage initially with being put up in a hotel.
To top it all off, I was shocked at how I’d
been misled.
Shock may seem a strong word to use. But you see, my interviewer was a woman. An
English woman. And about the same age as me. A fellow member of the 30% club*,
which surely boasts the more enlightened in society, striving for more women in
business and to break barriers of gender-biased thinking? Shocked that surely I hadn’t been just been ‘dissed
by the sisterhood’ for the beautiful baggage I have created by way of a family?
Would I have been less affected if I had
been dealing with a man? Possibly.
Would I have been as open about mentioning
my family in the first place? Probably not.
Knowing that I may have been less upfront
if I were talking with a man is telling. And I clearly had different expectations of
how that information would be treated. I
obviously had preconceived ideas on the level of empathy or degree of judgment
I would be afforded in speaking to a fellow woman.
All of this is academic. As after all, I
was out-shone by a candidate with more relevant experience. Re-advertising the
role must have simply been an administrative error on their part.
One thing I have learned is to err on the
side of caution. In future I will keep information sharing strictly to that
concerning the role, as I fear the art of spotting those with stereotypical
views on working mothers, seems as challenging as pinpointing that elusive
pelvic floor muscle.
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