Is there much point in writing a look-back at the past 12 months? We all know what a thoroughly rotten year it’s been. At this point, simply asking ‘How are you?’ is to mercilessly flog the ghost of a long-dead horse. You’re OK at best and have been wearing the same pair of jeans for 5 months. I’ve today reached the milestone of a year in the job, and while this wouldn’t ordinarily merit much – if any – attention, my time at Green Park is a tape measure tied to one of the most significant societal upheavals in modern history. Or maybe I’m trying to find an excuse to drag out the soapbox again.
I’m a bit late to the party criticising Baroness Stowell, much to my regret. However, milady’s latest in the rag behind “ENEMIES OF THE PEOPLE” and “FURY AT BBC SEX CHANGE SHOW FOR 6-YEAR-OLDS” is one of the more obtusely fraudulent and morally spurious pieces of writing I’ve read in at least 9 days.
Charity. Hell of a word. Hell of a concept. Ambiguity, challenge and opportunity run through ‘charity’ like sticks of rock.
Recruiting for charities is a funny old world. Granted, you meet, interact with and learn from some fascinating, mission-driven people. People campaigning to make the workplace fairer for people with disabilities. People lobbying government ministers to ensure animal welfare standards are upheld post Brexit. People briefing CEOs on air quality policy. The list goes on and on, and the day job gets more and more interesting.
I, like most functioning members of the human race, didn’t grow up wanting to be a recruiter. Three years later, I’m still here and have found an unexpected fascination with and enduring motivation for the role charity headhunters really play. Or maybe I’m just saying this for the benefit of my boss.