Sathnam Sanghera
7 September 2004
opinion
Johannesburg — THE phrase existed, I knew. I just could not think of it. Putting my head in my hands, I tried hard to concentrate. A couple of minutes later I was almost there the last sentence on the tip of my tongue.
But just as I turned to my computer to finish the article, a terrible noise cut through the office. "Waaa!" it went. "Waaaaa! Waaaaaa! Waaaaaaaaaaaa! Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"
I did not need to get out of my seat to identify the source. I had heard this sound before. In restaurants. At supermarket counters. On long-haul flights. It was a baby. And the baby belonged to a colleague. Distracted, I forgot what it was I was going to write down. Instead, I started to compile a list of the ways in which parents make life difficult for their childless colleagues.
They bring wailing babies into the office, distracting us from our work. They talk, tediously and relentlessly, about school league tables and the expense of private schooling. They leave work parties early to get home for the babysitter. They call home from work to ask whether Nicki has eaten up his/her greens like a good little boy/girl.
They have priority when it comes to taking time off at Christmas or during August. They get maternity and paternity leave (and the rest of us have to cover for them). They take days off when their children get sick (and the rest of us have to cover for them).
It was a surprisingly long and bitter list, but also revealing. While we all walk a fine line between the demands of our domestic life and those of our job, it seems parents are offered help, perks and privileges by employers, whereas the childless are not. It is unclear why this should be.
Having a baby in the 21st century is, arguably, as much of a lifestyle choice as buying, say, an Aston Martin Vanquish, which, with a price tag of £164000, is exactly what it costs to raise a child, according to a recent report.
But would the childless be allowed time off to spend with their new Aston Martin Vanquish? Would they be allowed to leave work early to pick up their new Aston Martin Vanquish from the garage? Of course not.
Browsing the internet, I discovered that some nonparents describing themselves as childfree rather than childless feel so aggrieved by such discrimination that they have set up support groups with names such as Thank You For Not Breeding, No Kidding and Kidding Aside.
Unfortunately, with articles advocating sterilisation, essays with titles such as The Case Against Babies and pictures of supporters dressed up as pregnant women, these child-free websites overstate their case.
Indeed, having had some time to calm down after the wailing baby episode, I have concluded that I am not particularly bothered by the fact that parents enjoy employment perks that are not available to the child-free, who might have equally significant responsibilities in their private lives, such as caring for sick or elderly relatives.
The thing that bothers me, very simply, is parents bringing their babies into the office. In my workplace, it is an irregular, informal thing: every couple of weeks someone will bring in an infant. Sometimes the baby will scream and wail. Sometimes it won't. Actually, the noise, as distracting as it is, is not the most annoying thing. The most annoying thing is the smugness of the parent.
The reason why there was a baby in the office the other week was not because child-care arrangements had fallen through for a colleague. It was not because it was bring your daughter to work day. It was because a colleague fancied showing off their new baby to other colleagues.
Even though I am child-free, I understand this impulse. If I had bought, say, a new Aston Martin Vanquish, I would want to show it off too. I would want to bring it into the office, rev the engine loudly and perform handbrake turns between the desks and photocopiers. But I wouldn't because: Firstly, it would be a distraction for everyone else and secondly, it would be smug.
The smugness that leads parents to bring babies into the office is the same smugness that encourages them to lecture childfree colleagues, repeatedly, about how they will never be fulfilled until they have a screaming baby in their life.
It is also this smugness that leads them to write books such as If You've Raised Kids, You Can Manage Anything (Leadership Begins at Home), a management guide that has landed on my desk. This book, written by Ann Crittenden, attempts to apply the lessons of parenting to business, claiming that anyone who can comfort a troublesome toddler, soothe the feelings of a sullen teenager, or manage the challenges of a fractious household is qualified to manage a business.
I have no doubt that being a parent is challenging. But I fail to see how looking after kids can be the ideal preparation for managing and motivating grown-ups. Workers do not (in general) poo themselves, cry 15 times a day or smear their faces with chocolate. Childcare is riot control. Management is not.
The implication of this book, and the implication of so many of the things that smug parents do and say in the office, is that If You Haven't Raised Kids, You Can't Manage Anything At All (Leadership Begins at Home). This is not true. Leadership does not begin at home. It begins in the office. Parenting begins at home. And that is where it should stay.
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