When is a community not a community? (or, am I an Albatross?)

As freelancers and small business owners, there seem to be constant exhortations for us to be part of a community. And I recognise the various benefit of being part of such peer networks, having invested time, emotion, money (and even professional reputation) in many over the years.

But over the years, despite having been part of many 'communities', I'm starting to wonder if I'm accidentally having an 'albatross effect' on them, as they all seem to 'die' after my being involved with them..!

However, this post isn't about me suggesting I'm a potential jinx, but rather to ponder how the ending of a self proclaimed community might reveal just how far it really was ever a real community to begin with:

Of the gravestones raised in memorial in this post, I'm going to immediately discount Micro Biz Matters Day (which I was a keen supporter of, sometime roadie, and occasionally part of the line-up for), which was staged every year for 8 years, because it never presented itself as a community but rather as a part of a wider campaign that's been championed by Tony Robinson - and campaigns all have a natural life, and the small teams who lead them rightly decide when it's time to move on to the next thing.

In contrast, the other 2 examples are worth lingering over:

Freelance Heroes (FH) was created in 2016 and referred to itself as a community for freelancers - and indeed, created lots of things to facilitate such a sense and practice of community, inspiring many other freelancer communities to coalesce in response to their mere existence: from it's original Facebook group, conferences were added, chat forums introduced, twitter hours with member of the community being invited to lead and manage them, 'featured freelancers' profiled (published interviews and youtube lives), peer learning sessions by member for members, a virtual library of books written by its members, and optional paid subscriptions (with additional pirkx). 

But at the end of 2023, it was suddenly announced by email that FH would imminently be being closed, and all of its associated artefacts and IP (website, forums, blogs, etc) would be being taken down.

Reasons were given about financial pressures, and people's capacity etc, and while there's plenty that FH can be proud of having achieved and influenced, for a body that presented itself as being a community, the upset that many expressed in the immediate wake of the announcement is possibly based on all of us feeling we were part of just that: a community. That the owners of that community seemingly hadn't trusted or respected us enough to share that there may be tough decisions to be taken, or to try and engage us all in conversations about possible succession and legacy options, maybe helps to explain how and why so many people were upset by the announcement - after 7 years of feeling we were part of a community, we suddenly realised that we never were in any meaningful way when it came to the big important decisions about us.

And more recently, the Good Business Club (GBC), established 6 years ago has suddenly made a similar announcement about closing up in the next few weeks - a shock decision that's seemingly come out of nowhere after years of all us members of it being encouraged to be actively involved in leading and developing activities and initiatives for the benefit of the wider community of its members. So again, I'm left wondering, how much of a community were we really being allowed to be, if we can all be disbanded by a discretionary decision of the founders of it?

Importantly, for context, I think there's a lot of things that have been going on behind the scenes at GBC which are highly charged and emotive in leading up to this apparently 'out of nowhere' announcement - based on the official statement of its being wound up seemingly contradicting itself: 

(1) The founder opens by saying that they are stepping down from running the GBC after a tough professional and personal year (but no sense yet of this spelling the end for the GBC, as they'd always clearly managed their personal role and identity as being separate and distinct from that of GBC); 

(2) it's then immediately stated in a bold heading that the community will continue; 

(3) but it's then clarified at the very end that all the forums, websites, and membership fees will be cancelled and ended in the next few weeks (and we're signposted to another paid 'community' we can join instead - which costs 25% more). So actually, despite how this statement began, it really is a 'so long and thanks for all the fish' goodbye to all of it.

All of this leaves me wondering and feeling if its really worth my investing time, energy, money, and emotion into any self proclaimed 'community', when at any time, a small group of people within it can suddenly pull the plug on it all with no warning or notice (as added embarrassment in both instances, I'd been actively working on developing new strategic partnerships for FH with other national sector bodies on their encouragement and with their full knowledge, when their announcement was made with no prior warning - so first I knew of it, was also when the contacts in other bodies I'd been speaking with also found out. And a week before GBC announced its closing, the leaders of it had approached me to talk about my developing and running events and initiatives in the community's name). 

Maybe all these self-proclaimed 'communities' we see out there, aren't really communities at all, if the people who make them up are never actually trusted with hard truths or realities about looming difficult decisions facing it, nor given opportunity to step up and help to mitigate challenges that it may be being faced with?

What I'm taking from these knocks (there have been others over the years - I'm just reflecting on the most recent ones in this post), is that in the future, any group that presents itself as a 'community' and invites me to join, will get a bit more of a due diligence on my part to see just how far it really is a community, or it's actually just a club controlled by a selected few that would actually just like my money to help keep their idea going. And at any moment, the 'rug may be pulled out from under our feet' without warning, and we all find ourselves back in this stage of shock and disbelief about what's happening.

Finally, I'm aware that some people who may read this post will find it hard and painful, because they were part of the leadership teams for these communities, and so will naturally feel a sense of responsibility for how the ending of these groups played out, despite their best efforts and intentions.

This post isn't meant to be any smear or indictment of their character, but an opportunity for me to grieve these wider groups' passing (moving through the stages of denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance), and to reflect on the manner in which the process has been managed has on me for how I approach similar things in the future. Very often when 'communities' end, there's an outpouring of encouragement and support for those that made the decision and had bee the figures heads in leading/founding them (and rightly so), but rarely an opportunity or space for those of us who were part of them to reflect on what their ending means for us. 

so long, northern facilitators... (the end has come, but the moment has been prepared for)

4 years ago, I accidentally found myself starting to host an monthly gathering of people who shared professional interest and roles in facilitation, and as facilitators.

It was only supposed to be for fellow facilitators in the Manchester area, and it was only supposed to be for a year or two.

But somehow, 4 years on, I only find myself only now 'signing out' of this role for the last time, having brokered links between facilitators around the world...

(maybe some background at this point would be helpful): 

I've been aware of, and involved with, the International Association of Facilitators for many years - and am part of the leadership team for the England and Wales 'chapter' of this body.

4 years ago, I asked the question "how can I find out if there are any fellow facilitators in my area, to swap stories with, and for a bit of mutual peer support and encouragement?" and learnt of the informal practice of #iafmeetup: you simply pick a venue, a day and a time, and then put an announcement out to see who turns up: not just IAF members, but anyone who feels that they may be a part of/interested in becoming more involved in, a community of facilitators.

At that point (2019) they'd been popping up all over the country, and always with the same format - an informal drop in for anyone in the neighbourhood who was free for about an hour, to chew over current things we were thinking about.

Now, most people will know that I like to try out new things, and challenge accepted norms where I can: so I introduced some changes to the format when we ran it in Manchester: 

• we starting running the drop-ins for 90 mins - in recognition that travel time for people to get to a venue in Manchester wasn't always quick or easy, so the time they would get from being part of the conversation needed to be meaningful enough to help them justify the travel time.
• we moved out of cafes, and into a library (the Portico), to reduce distractions to our conversations, and also increase the chances of having comfy seats.
• we introduced the idea of alternate meetups having a specific focus: to offer a space for more structured learning and development of our skills.

And it started to go well - word got out, more people starting coming along, and the library were keen to keep hosting us (they have a kitchen on site with a great range of cakes!)   

And then someone on the other side of the world sneezed and our lives contracted to the size of our laptop screens.

I recognised how important these meetups would be for facilitators in my area, in allowing us ways to maintain contact and encouragement in the face of turbulence and uncertainty. All my fellow #iafmeetup hosts around the country were coming to the same conclusion, so we all moved out of our libraries and cafes, and into zoom rooms.

For various reasons, I found myself being quickly approached by other #iafmeetup hosts across the North of England, asking if they could 'merge' with us - possibly largely in recognition that I'd been using zoom a bit in previous years, so seemed to have some idea of how to make this format best work for people. And then equally as quickly, I found myself the 'last host standing' out of all of us in the North - but, in recognising how valuable people who were clicking in were finding the calls, persevered in continuing to offer my time to set up the calls and facilitate them in way of showing solidarity.

And looking back over this early pandemic period, I realise just how forward thinking we were being as a body of practitioners - in our first on-line gathering, we were already considering what the long term impacts of the pandemic might be in transforming the norms of facilitation practice:

Over this period, you may have seen various social media posts where I've shared some of the more unusual and entertaining topics we've discussed and shared stories around. We've also continued the habit of having specific themes to explore together - most of which I've written up notes from, and shared on my blog and elsewhere:

• how to facilitate people who don't want to be in the room (2019)
• how different physical spaces affects facilitation (2020)
• facilitation vs training (2020)
• northern facilitators vs UK facilitators - what the research shows (2020)
• getting ready for hybrid facilitation (2021)
• winning clients (2022)
• the impact of faith in/on facilitation (2022)
  
  

And over this period, as we've been meeting on-line, we've also been joined by facilitators from the North of other countries around the world too, as word about the Northern facilitators of England has spread...  

This period has also been an age of the group 'selfie with props' - a tradition that people have seemed to increasingly look forward to as one of the highlights of the experience:

 

But now it's over. Today is the last 'Northern #iafmeetup' that I'll host.

I've not stopped hosting this group because I've had enough of my fellow facilitators, but rather because as IAF England and Wales, we've been re-thinking what we do, how, and why - and as part of this we feel it would be prudent to rationalise the on-line meetups to a monthly event (as it was before 2020). This will also see a wider group of people facilitating these calls to widen experiences and opportunities. Which means that I may be making guest hosting appearances in the future...!

If you were ever part of a Manchester/Northern #iafmeetup call over the last 4 years - thank you for turning up and sharing your time (and props!). I hope you took things from the conversations that were by turn encouraging, constructive, and challenging; in helping to enhance your skills and confidence both as a facilitator, and a fellow human being.

Hopefully I'll see you all again at some point in the future #iafmeetup calls (you can check out the dates and booking links over on eventbrite) - so while this is an end of sorts, the moment has been prepared for, so that there'll be a continuation of them in a new form...

"I couldn't tell who was in the room, and who was on zoom.."

Last weekend, I was part of supporting a hybrid conference - which was about how we 'do' hybrid (hope that's not too meta of a concept to open a blog post with?)

As a facilitator who's part of the IAF England & Wales team, earlier this year we were considering how to re-assert ourselves as a body of practitioners, and also re-spark our community of facilitators, after being without our customary annual conference for the last 2 years (Covid, and all that). 

Someone (possibly me) suggested that we do it as a hybrid event - giving us the chance to share, try out, and learn from others how we do events where people are both 'roomies' and 'zoomies'. 

And while there's lots of other posts people are making about their experiences of it across social media, expressing how having it as hybrid was far more enjoyable and engaging than many were fearful it would be otherwise, I wanted to pause to reflect on my experience of leading a session about how we do networking in hybrid ways.

Given that we all know (in theory) how to do networking in person, and we've started to feel our way with it on-line in breakout rooms, etc over the last 2 years of pandemic, I wanted to try out the notion of doing it 'hybrid' - where the people networking together are both on-line and in a room at the same time.

I also wanted to explore some of what each side felt like they were missing out on, in not being in the others' physical/virtual space. 

So, as part of the session, I posed a flipped question to both groups - what did zoomies feel they were missing out on, by not being in the room; and what did the roomies feel they were missing out on by not being a zoomie.

Interesting, there were lots of frustrations and FOMOs expressed on both sides, but in 'headline':

- if you're on-line in a hybrid event, you miss the spontaneity and potential for physical contact with other human beings;

- if you're in the room at a hybrid event, you can feel more vulnerable and at risk from not having access to your usual home comforts, and having less recourse to being able to 'get out' if you feel they need to.

  

So - some good learning that highlights that not everyone is keen to rush back to doing everything in person (or if we are, we need some careful considerations). 

And there was also lots of other great learning throughout the conference about the realities and practicalities of both managing, and being part of, hybrid events.

(SPOILER: despite our not spending any money on tech, and the venue not being set up for hybrid, we managed to lash-up makeshift roving cameras and mics in ways that impressed everyone both on and off line, showing that it doesn't have to be that technically difficult).

But for me, the key message from my session wasn't about how to run hybrid networking in a tech way, but in how I approached it as a facilitator in recognising that there were 2 groups of people with different different starting/engagement points.

Encouragingly, how I planned the session and facilitated the networking seemed to work really well for people, with comments being made afterwards such as:

- "this experience has made me more confident about doing things in a hybrid way"

- "when we were doing the networking, I hadn't realised who was in the room/on zoom until afterwards!"

So for anyone who's either planning, or thinking about being part of, a hybrid event - my takeaway would be this: as important as it is to get the tech doing the things you need/want it to, it's just as important to also think and plan how you're going to structure the sessions and activities within it to help everyone feel part of it, regardless of how they're joining it.

aping Spock - why you see me go 'Star Trek' when I leave zoom calls

It struck me recently that I've developed an unusual habit on zoom calls (you may have noticed it if you've shared a screen of postage-stamp sized faces with me) - which involves me usually 'doing a Spock' from Star Trek when we say goodbye.

But before I explain what it's all about (other than a love of Trek), it may be useful to rewind a little bit to before the start of the zoom calls - all the way back to the end of 2019, when few of us had used zoom for meetings at all, before they became our new norm.

When this great transition began, I wondered about how such a dramatic shift in how we (professionally) interact with each other, and the loss of usual physical cues and customs we practice together, might impact on our shared working relationships - so as far as possible, I've tried to introduce models and habits when I'm on zoom that mimic the prompts and sensations people may have otherwise experienced, had we all be sitting in the same room together.

Now all those practices will probably form the basis for other blog posts in the future (assuming people might be interested to learn a bit more about them) - but for now I wanted to focus on Spock.

Most people who know Star Trek will know about the character of Spock - and how his species are famous for not only revering logic above all else, but also trying to avoid having direct physical contact with others unless absolutely necessary (which offers them a clear advantage in pandemics!).

When distancing began in the spring of 2020, there were lots of ideas floating around as to how we might introduce a new custom to replace the handshakes we now could now no longer engage in with other people we met with. Ultimately, the 'elbow bump' became the norm, but many made concerted efforts for it to have been the Vulcan hand gesture.

Traditionally, when we end spending time with each other, we enact some ritual to mark the closure of the conversation or activity - with friends and family, that's been a hug; and with professional colleagues it's a handshake (but these can sometimes be reversed!),

Zoom robs us of the ability to maintain many of these physical practices we used to rely on to signify to each other than we'd satisfactorily concluded our conversations (a handshake), so I wanted to try and introduce something other than a cursory "see you, then!" before hitting the big red button to end the call.

And that's where Spock comes in.

At the end of each encounter or episode, when Spock was leaving a meeting or parting company with someone, he usually raised his hand and intoned "live long and prosper": a wish for the future of the person or people he'd gotten to know a little better as a mark of respect.

And that's the wish that most people know - but given our precarious economies and changing shifts in employment, it might seem almost insensitive to wish that someone would prosper in the apparent face of diminishing opportunities, and the ongoing shrinking of the welfare state to offer us security.

So instead, I prefer to use the response to "live long and prosper" - "peace, and long life": in this chaotic and turbulent world, being able to find peace is perhaps the most desired state for most of us; and the fear of pandemic and shortening of our lives because of it (which has already started to happen with average life expectancies now going backwards), is an equally potent hope that we might have as much time as possible to keep finding ways to achieve and enjoy that peace in our lives and with each other. 

So until next time, keep on Trekking, and...

 

perversely, spending less (not more) time on social media seems to be bad for my well-being...

Some might say that with profiles on 15 different social media channels (at last count), I'm something of a social media 'whore'.

I never meant to be - I managed to resist joining Facebook for several years until Mel from my old school organised a class reunion using it; and I only signed up to start to Tweet because I discovered by accident that there were people talking about me on there.

(for clarification - I've never sought to censor anything that anyone wants to write about me on-line, but I just like to know who's saying what about me, so I'm not on the back foot when speaking with other people)

And while some people enthuse about how great social media has been in generating paying work for them - it's never meant I've landed contracts or new clients (yet...). Instead, I've always viewed social media as a means to start or continue conversations with people.

This approach seems to be generally well received universally - LinkedIn says I have an 'All Star' profile, and a few years ago, I was named as one of the 500 most influential people on Twitter!

But its hard to not hear people increasingly talking about how toxic and damaging social media is becoming to our well-being, and every so often to hear that a friend or colleague has decided to 'leave' Facebook or Twitter.

Now, over the last however many years (Pinterest and Instagram weren't a thing when I became self-employed 16 years ago - but then, neither was the iPhone either!), I've tried to keep a cumulative 10 minute a day habit on social media: over the course of a day, checking in to different platforms while I'm waiting for the kettle to boil, or in the minutes until the webinar I've joined is started by it's organiser.

But as this pandemic has rolled on, with client contracts and projects become ever more fraught in trying to meet shifting deadlines, and trying to invest more time with family members at home, it's been a struggle to achieve even this with the stresses and distractions that go on around us all.

For some people, such distancing from social media may sound like welcome relief, but over this last month, I've realised that some part of my well-being is starting to suffer from this enforced withdrawal - not because I think I'm addicted to social media, but because it offers me contact with fellow human beings to share what they're feeling, thinking, experiencing, and ultimately, how they're trying to KBO in these turbulent times.

So maybe instead of demonising social media, or hailing it as our saviour, can we try and take a more nuanced approach to recognising what it can offer us to our benefit, and how we can best try to manage this (for example - only using twitter lists rather than the general open feed).

And for anyone who's wondered why I've appeared quieter than usual recently on-line, this is my apology - life's just gotten too fraught and distracting. It's not an excuse, and it isn't a promise I'll be back in full flow next week - but a reassurance that I'm missing you all too.  

to everyone who forgot to turn up to their meetings with me last year - can I have my £4,500 back, please?

We all know the feeling of frustration of having arranged to meet with someone, only for them to not turn up when agreed; and after waiting the polite 5-10 minutes before calling them, only learn that they'd forgotten.

At the best of times, this can make us feel like they don't think we have any importance or value (or else they'd have remembered we were in their diary), but as a sole trader, it also represents a painful loss of cash as well - because I'm not salaried.

Unlike others in paid employment, who have a guaranteed income each month - against which they decide how to best allocate their time to justify receiving it; I have a fixed amount of time each month - against which I have to maximise my opportunities to generate an income. 
So if you're not a client of mine and I offer to share some of my time with you, then that's me saying that I think who you are and what you're trying to achieve is more important than my earning cash to help pay the rent, or keep the fridge stocked up.

But it goes beyond that - because it's not just the need to generate an income that's the sole determinate of how I use my time, but the importance of being with my girlfriend, and kids. And beyond that, having opportunity to hang out with parents, siblings, friends - and indulge in personal interests (reading, whiskey, walking, classic movies, galleries and museums, gardening,...).

So when you say 'sorry, I forgot' - that's akin to your saying to me "You've chosen to sacrifice a lot to spend this time with me, but I don't think your ability to retain a home, spend time with family, or any of the other things that enrich our lives, are worth bothering to even recognise."

But I'll never say that to you. 

I'll never say it because I try and live by a set of values that inform who I am, how I think about things, how I approach my work, and how I try and build relationships with different groups of people.

So instead, because of the value of 'grace', I'll politely and demurely brush it off and offer to reschedule with you.

These values are something that I've always tried to keep front and centre in my day to day life, and part of the way I do this is through my annual impact report, the measures in which reflect these values.

And over the last year, I've been thinking about how to capture this value of 'grace'... It seems that the easiest way might be to measure the number of times the above scenario has played out over the year.

And to subsequently help me understand the true extent of what this value of 'grace' costs me (and how it can be recognised by other people), I've monetised it in the same way I have my pro bono activity.

The first reading on this new indicator is a bit of a shock: £4,560.

The financial value of the time I've lost because people acted in a way that suggested: "You've chosen to sacrifice a lot to spend this time with me, but I don't think your ability to retain a home, spend time with family, or any of the other things that enrich our lives, are worth bothering to even recognise.", is in excess of £4,000.

Averaged out over the year, that's getting on for £100 a week - for comparison, that's akin to the cost of taking my family out for a meal together; the cost of renewing one of my professional memberships; or the cost of a basic portable hearing loop (for when I'm working with people who experience deafness).

And it's more than half of what I gave in pro bono support over the same period.

So the next time you ask or agree to meet with me, or someone else who's not salaried, please try and make the effort to check your diary or let us know if you know you're going to be running late...

why I don't go to awards ceremonies (despite winning them!)

I seem to be developing a reputation for winning awards (and as with most of my other reputations, is not something I purposefully set out to achieve...); but thought it might be time to reveal why I'm usually pictured in my office with all the paperweights and wall hangings that I seem to be amassing, rather than being suited up at official awards ceremonies:

1. they're usually in London or major cities that aren't that easy for me to get to (I live in the Pennines where the quality of views, walking, and beer are offset by years of under-investment in public transport links...)
2. Despite all my bravado and pomp, I think that my factory default setting is far more introvert than extrovert, so if it's all the same, you can post me the paperweight and I'll stay at home to watch TV with my girlfriend and a glass of wine;
3. But perhaps most importantly, not going in person creates an opportunity for me to be able to help other people get a 'leg up' as they're starting their careers and adventures - at the IOEE awards where I was named 'member of the year', I orchestrated it so Harsha Patel would be 'me' at the House of Commons to accept the accolade on my behalf: she was in the process of founding Doing Social at the time, so this meant she had opportunity to network with people and agencies more quickly and easily than she might have otherwise, meaning she could get her new venture 'out there' more powerfully than she might have otherwise. (She also looked better in a dress than I could ever hope to when on the podium giving the acceptance speech...)

So that's the reasoning behind why, in my business model, I seem to be once again going against conventional wisdom that says I should be revelling the in the validation that having awards bestowed on me offers..,

6 hours, 5 people, a lot of coffee, and truffle honey.

A couple of years ago, I tried a networking experiment: booking myself to be in London for 48 hours, and asking people to invite me to meet them in places of their choosing. Lots of people engaged with it, and others followed the adventure on social media with interest.

And it got me thinking that I should try and do something like it again. But finding 48 hours in the midst of various client projects, and family responsibilities isn’t that easy… so I took the most of the opportunity of being in the capital to deliver a bookkeeping workshop for Unltd to come down a little earlier than I might have otherwise, and put word out that I’d be around for an afternoon (6 hours) to see what serendipity LinkedIN might magic up…

And what an enjoyable 6-hour stint it turned out to be:

• Discovering truffle honey with Martin Gilbraith, whilst reflecting on how MeetUp has facilitated UK facilitators to more easily network and support each other;

• Finally meeting Andrea Gamson properly in person (after we’ve missed each other at conferences ad festivals we’ve both spoken at in the past, had several phone calls, and generally stalked each other in social media over the years), and being confused for my namesake, Robert Ashton (although to be fair, our respective beads are probably quite similar to each others’ at the moment…)

• Learning of Roxanne Persaud’s muse, the Maid of Fail, and how a Phd thesis can become like Douglas Adam’s Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy;

• Receiving my first Christmas card of the year from Richard Hull, and over the magic of coffee, creating a new model and format for guest lectures on social enterprise and social entrepreneurship education (although we’ll have to wait until spring 2020 to release it on the world!)

• And finally, making an entrance with Eddie Capstick without having to enter the room (I phoned him from the other side of the window he was sitting in). But his choice of last venue came well equipped for his being the last name on my ‘dance card’ for this 6-hour speed networking dash around Kings Cross.

So – thank you all for the creativity, insight, new experiences, and shared laughs. Hopefully I can find an excuse to do it again before another whole year passes, and also not just in London…

tap dancing in the House of Commons

Some of you will know that I'm not big on formalities, nor one to readily 'doff the cap' in restraining myself from speaking out or causing disruption for the sake of manners.

Which meant that I was surprised to be invited to the House of Commons earlier this week, after being shortlisted in the national enterprise support awards from IOEE and SFEDI.

Although my famous fez didn't make the journey down to London with me, I was able to share the experience with my girlfriend (although she's not new to the whole awards ceremonies at Parliament, having done similar a few years back, but with the bonus of guided tours by Ministers!). 

And I'd encourage anyone who has the opportunity to add their partners as a "+1" to any business event like this to do so, as being there with her made me much more aware of just how I present myself in such settings, (and reassuringly/worryingly that I'm not that different in private to my public persona!).

Sadly, despite being shortlisted for 2 of the awards, I was pipped to the post on both of them, but the event was a rare opportunity to re-engage with some universities and sector bodies I'd started to loose touch with. 

The setting itself was also suitably prestigious, although the lack of tables for dancing on made me wonder if the organisers had been tipped off about my coming in advance..? 

But despite this, I still managed to thrown down some moves with a tap dance under the main chandelier in the Central Lobby before security were able to move me along...

what I've learned about freelancing after doing it for 13 (and a bit) years

As some people who know me may know, I never meant to be self-employed - 13 and a bit years ago, I relocated my family from Cambridge to the North to take up the offer of a dream job with a leading enterprise in the social sector, only for it to quickly disappear before we'd even started unpacking the moving boxes.

Although my new home was only a few streets away from the local Job Centre Plus, I was aware that I had a young family who were relying on me to support them, so did what I've done since I was 14 and needed a job - went out and started knocking on doors. And the first offers of work were on a contracted, rather than employed, basis, and so I began my accidental journey into the work of a freelance consultant...

And over 13 years on, I somehow find myself still here!

So what have I learnt from these 158 months? In no particular order - 

1) people are more supportive that you might think

As a 'professional', there's a sense that we have to present ourselves as perfect and flawless, yet we're all human underneath; admitting we're struggling or don't know, can go a long way to strengthen relationships with others (provided that we're able to do it constructively and appropriately...)

2) manners really do make a real difference

Remember what our parents taught us when we were kids. It works.

3) the only support you'll get is what you make and find for yourself

Despite fine rhetoric from government, self-employed and freelancers are actually pretty screwed over by government when it comes to our being able to access support if we're ill, or family circumstances change. But there's a wealth of peer encouragement and in-kind trades to be done to help get through those darker chapters of our journeys, if we're only brave enough to ask for the help.

4) you can create more change and impact that you think you can

I've been involved in changing company legislation, influencing national policy, and helping a community of local businesses recover their livelihoods after flooding: all without having an official mandate, or being asked to do so. As a freelancer we have a lot more flexibility and political freedom to speak out on things and get involved in activities that we might realise, we just have to realise that everyone else is also saying someone should do something, but no-one else seems able to do it...

5) despite acclaim, you'll always self-doubt, and there are more dark days than people let on

I've kept a business going for over 13 years which has not only been able to generate an income for me that meant I could support my family, but also support another business for its first years of trading, winning various awards, and generating lots of positive feedback on my linkedin profile obviously suggests I'm doing something right. Yet despite all of the above, I still doubt myself. And there remain days when the 'black dog' comes snuffling at your door (and stays for far longer that they're welcome).

6) you're only as good as what you know

As a freelancer, no-one else is interested in your CPD or in offering you appraisals. Over the years I've built my own CPD framework around myself that seemed logical and sensible, but national standard-setting bodies tell me it goes way beyond what most companies offer their employees. But if I'm trading on my knowledge and insight, it's surely only common sense I do all I can to try and make sure its current and relevant?

7) It's all on you - no-one owes you anything (and the world isn't fair)

Despite the existence of networks, membership bodies, facebook groups, and such like, it still falls to you to make sure things are done: coping with power cuts, internet outages, managing cash-flow when clients fall behind on payments they owe you, making sure you take time out for your mum's birthday... But hopefully you can take some small comfort in the knowledge that you're not the only one with this type of life.

8) You don't have to work by someone else's rules

If you're not careful, you fall into the trap of being 'more of the same as everyone else' - and if you do, then why did you bother becoming freelance in the first place? It's amazing the trouble that you don't get into by dancing on tables, wearing a fez, and even swearing, when working with clients or speaking at national conferences. And as for networking? Why limit yourself to someone else's event - my best networking was when I hit London for 48 hours with a travel pass (although I don't cycle to events with my shiny red helmet as much as I used to...)

9) Word of mouth takes longer to generate than you think it will (and won't always be what you want)

As freelancers and sole traders, we trade on our personal reputation, but that takes time to build up, get known about, and even longer to be trusted. Thinking back, I think it was about 6 years of hard hustle and 'schmmozing' before people started to pass my name around their networks unprompted. But despite ongoing efforts (including addressing a national conference with a duck under my arm), many sector bodies still erroneously refer to me as a leading social entrepreneur.

I'm sure that there's plenty more that good for rummaging out of my head, but hopefully these 9 points are a start?

the return of the fez...

On Friday of this week (12th January), it's #MicroBizMatters Day: the 4th annual celebration of micro businesses in the UK: https://microbizmattersday.rocks/

As some may recall, I was invited to be one of its head roadies last year, and as part of the dress code for the event, my fez made its global debut (the day is live streamed from 7am). 

I've been invited back again this year; and I'd like to think it was because of the appreciation of the stories, encouragements, and support to the day I was able to share last year, but just in case, I'll also be packing my fez in case it was that which secured me the repeat booking!

Watch out for various posts during the day using the hashtag (#microbizmatters started trending on twitter during last years' day), but there's also the chance to read all about it with an advance peek at the souvenir programme which has been leaked early! (click here to download a pdf copy).

See you on Friday, and in the words of Tina and Tony, "keep rocking..." 

on being professionally referred to as a 'tool'...

Throughout my professional life, I've been referred to as being/likened to all sorts of things: Darth Vader, Derren Brown, Shakespeare, a Guru, the A-Team, and even a 'neo-liberal stormtrooper'!

However, my most recent public naming was as a 'tool' in front of 50+ students (and twitter!) at Salford University's launch of their enterprise support programme for students and graduates.

I was there as a long-standing supporter of the University's enterprise support programmes and initiatives (although for the sake of some of my other clients, I should probably highlight that I do also work in a similar role within other universities and educational bodies...). The idea of the evening was to inspire and encourage a new intake of students to consider how enterprise could enhance their future options and opportunities, and to that end there were inspiration speakers, details about grant funding available, and pizza. My task was to get those people attending to have some practical experience of what 'being enterprising' might look and feel like in practice through quick activities and games.

However, what was probably the most important part of the event was the Q&A from students to us speakers - in preparing for what we delivered we could only try and second guess what might be most important and relevant to such a large and diverse group; but having time in the programme for open questions helped us to better understand what people's motivations and priorities were. And it was as part of this part of the event that there was a question about the role and value of advisers to a growing business. Jamil Khalil, the founder of Wakelet and keynote inspirational speaker, suggested that he viewed such advisers as 'tools' - in response, I openly wondered if he meant that in the context of a toolbox, or if it was a reflection of poor business support he'd received in the past...

Thankfully he clarified that it was the former, but it created an opportunity to highlight the importance to any enterprise or startup of needing to take multiple approaches: building your own toolbox of resources including professional advice being only part of what you need - there's also value in some of the startup and business planning processes, and my 'games' highlighted the critical need for both a good network of contacts and self-confidence.

So to my fellow advisers and enterprise supporters out there - let's celebrate and revel in being seen as 'tools' ;-)