Day 43 - Abuse of authority

I promised you quite a long time ago that I would show you the story of our summer bedding schemes. And who is to say I won't. Just not today.

Today I have decided to aim at bringing to a conclusion the history of staffing the property under my management. The moulding of the existing helpers, the employment of new ones, the direction of our presentational philosophy. All these are tied up with the people and their roles.

First, let me say that we couldn't live with a garden shed as our Visitor Reception area. I expect most of you have seen how it is done these days, with multi-million pound architect-designed buildings, in some cases outdoing the actual property as buildings of interest.

Well, we were starting from a different budgetary position. We had a shed and no money. We also had drive and enthusiasm which was not matched by our resources. After a couple of years of nagging, I managed to secure £2000 to have a plywood structure built, ostensibly to replicate one of the garden buildings. It turned out that the roof was too complicated to copy for the price, so we ended up with a poor compromise, but we did place it in a better position. Right by the cattle grid where we could watch the kids cramming themselves between the bars. The advantage the structure had over its predecessor was that it had storage space, and looked a bit brighter. Architecturally, it was no masterpiece. The building it was based on looked like this -

The place in action was more like this -

Staff enjoying themselves? Whatever next?

However, there was one other staff problem which had to be addressed. I needed help. It became very clear that trying to combine running the garden and the property was going to spread me too thinly and put my credibility at risk. I nagged about this too. My first boss here was, is, a lovely man, who desperately wanted to help, but had no money to offer, so it took a while of constant pressure to wear him down. In the end he permitted me admin help of five hours a week, to be provided by a friend of his who fitted it in around looking after her kids. I never really knew when she would be there, but any help was welcome. Unfortunately she moved away after her first season, and I was left with a hole again. This proved fortunate, in that I was able to get the hours increased to ten a week, prior to advertising the post. Ultimately, over a period of years these increased to, I believe, twenty-five. The interviews took the form of a one-to-one with me, and a typing test on the electric typewriter. I ended up employing the candidate who broke the typewriter, on the grounds that she was less barmy than all the others.

This appointment proved fortuitous, as she turned out to be an extremely capable person who grew quickly and magnificently into the role, eventually relieving me of some of the stresses of being two different human beings at the same time. Ultimate responsibility remained mine, but at last we had a presentable front-of-house face that satisfied the requirements of those who were too snobby to deal with me. Of course, we had very different ways of doing things, and I know that we infuriated each other on numerous occasions, but the fact was that despite our different outlooks and approaches, we both shared a commitment to the property, based, I think, on the need to make the best of the quirks and local idiosyncracies of the place, its history and personnel. I became confident that I could be absent for periods without it all falling apart, and that when I returned, what I found would be recognisably what I had left behind. She did much to help develop the property as a whole, and took on some of the responsibility for the volunteers in the house, and, importantly, for the inventory of contents and the schedules of restoration for furniture and artefacts, as well as many other things. Knowing that she remains a very private person, there will be no photograph shown here. When she started, we shared a tiny office which we soon outgrew. We removed all the gardening equipment from he engine house into a workshop built by the organisation's in-house carpenter, and colonised the whole space as an office, which we had plastered and painted. I remained in the grubby end with the gardeners' mess-room, while my assistant gravitated up one step into a larger carpeted area, where she sat imperiously surveying allcomers from on high. Small wonder that many of our new volunteers thought she was my boss, and not the other way round. No matter. Those things aren't important. Getting the job done was paramount. Egos had to be sacrificed.

As I have indicated, we were really very different people, and I know she used to despair when she looked at my desk, heaped as it was with unattended paperwork (I left everything till cold days in the winter), gardening tools, nuts, bolts, plumbing items and lunch. She was very orderly, with a tidy desk, and always able to find things on the computer when required. In my defence, I also knew what I was doing. I just didn't feel the compulsion to look as if I did.

The difference between the two of us was in line with my declared policy of encouraging diversity in the workforce, so that with luck all visitors could find someone to relate to. It was certainly a strength which helped us to achieve more than we could have if we had all been the same. Sadly the business of historic houses and gardens failed to attract much multi-ethnic or age-related diversity, and our visitors and team as a whole were predominantly white, middle-class and ageing. I hope that is changing now.

When she moved on to a new challenge ten or so years later, I promoted our Visitor Services Manager to replace her. It is fascinating how one person's organisation is another's chaos. We couldn't find a thing amongst the computer filing, and had to reorganise it into a form we understood. I expect the people who came after me did the same to my work. That's the nature of it. My new helper was a fine lady, and having found myself alone after more than quarter of a century as part of a family, I relaxed my stern professional persona and began to look upon her as a person rather than a valued member of staff. This eventually led to her becoming my wife a few years down the line. She is sticking with it so far. You might call it an abuse of authority. She's the one on he right in the picture above, having too much fun. I don't care what you think.