A helping hand....

The earliest days of the pandemic in Australia were marked by a mixture of confusion, disbelief and for many, a degree of ambivalence and even apathy. Reports from overseas punctuated the news with increasing intensity and heightened concern as the weeks rolled by, but these were far from dominating news cycles here. As an arts worker the ripples of effect had become visible in the sphere of my work by late 2019 but these remained easy to shrug away or ignore; a few cancellations of visiting Asian based public speakers or artists who had planned to perform at this festival or another; seemingly mere inconveniences to be temporarily worked around rather than a precursor to something more imposing.

On our sheltered island Australia seemed somewhat immune, at least in our consciousness. Slowly day to day conversations were starting to turn a little towards the global threat but on the whole we remained distracted by Christmas, New Year, holidays and then bushfires that seemed to sweep across the nation amidst a renewed focus on climate change. Many in the arts industry (who would soon find themselves desperately crying out for recognition and support) volunteered for multiple fundraisers for those most impacted upon by the firestorms. Meanwhile stories of a newly identified overseas illness seemed like background academic dialogue; full of statistics about predicted percentages of infection and comparisons with epidemics some 100 years past, from continents far beyond our borders.

Then in March came sudden jarring federal announcements of the first restrictions – halting gatherings of 500 plus people. It seems laughable now, reflecting back after so many months of heftier repercussions; liberties and lives lost, how these first meek constraints caused such sudden surprise and even outrage.

I work in a small arts organisation, and along with so many colleagues we watched with hawk like alertness as our sector started to shudder under the weight of initial event closures. Within weeks a vice like grip of fear had begun to tighten, as the scope of impact on the event industry magnified. Arts and events were the first industries to feel the practical bite of those restrictions followed closely by hospitality.

Until 2020 I had never really thought about how intrinsically linked our industry is with hospitality.

I am one of the lucky ones, one of the relatively few with an ongoing year round full time job that is not as reliant on vagrancies, the swings and roundabouts of activity that is a standard characteristic of the creative life we choose. Only now, much later, do I see clearly how large a percentage of those inspirational creatives whose talent drives our industry and on the back of whose success we thrive, work from day to day or project to project. How so many are therefore vulnerable to the unexpected when it comes knocking. How easily they can be swept off their feet, buffeted harshly by rising tides beyond usual comprehension.

Because of the casualized nature of the work we do many committed workers turn to various casual hospitality shifts to pay the bills when their ‘passion work’ is lean or seasonal. It may not be glamorous, but it’s a well-worn familiar path; one most can reply upon to make ends meet.

In our small team we had one such worker whose role went from full time a few short months a year to a minimal retainer of hours the rest. I am the oldest employee there, and this employee at the other end of his career is the youngest. For the purpose of this story I shall call him Tom.

I remember the collective emotional uncertainty that started to rise in all of us as we shut down public interaction and readied ourselves for what we thought would be an unavoidable but probably short lived insular period working from home. But this was nothing compared to visible fear that struck Tom as he lost the three external hospitality jobs that maintained him financially within the span of only a few days.

Our management acted swiftly to let us know that whilst the company had low reserves its highest priority remained securing everyone’s current jobs throughout the coming months whilst we rode this ‘thing’ out. Such statements however brought little comfort for the one of us whose livelihood was reliant on other vital income had vanished so completely without notice. I remember seeing the terror in his eyes, the total disbelief that this could come so suddenly and without any sense of possible restoration. Realisation he couldn’t pay his rent, and maybe not even his food bill. Of course, many have faced such concerns in the past and will do so again, but this was so unexpected. And left him totally unprepared.

In everything we did and everywhere we turned organisations were laying off staff, shedding expenditure as quickly as they could to minimise ongoing costs and best support long term survival for the skeletons of their companies. People we had worked with across multiple partner organizations were suddenly absent when we called, email addresses bounced back incessantly. The daily news were full of pictures of ever growing unemployment lines; phone calls to seek welfare assistance led to recorded messages of long wait times. Avenues to find work elsewhere were clearly limited and oversubscribed.

Practical considerations should have seen our workplace likewise seeking to immediately trim expenses, reducing a workforce to a bare minimum to better match output reduction and revenues that had been decimated, down almost 50%. In effect the company had entered a sort of enforced ‘hibernation’. But instead of focusing on balance sheets and financial risk, our management chose to count potential human cost.

This was well before any hint of potential future government funding packages for employers. Just as they ensured we all understood our existing jobs were secure (at least for the mid-term), they increased Tom’s hours to ensure a basic living wage. Holding out a hand, and a practical remedy to him to quickly alleviate the toll of personal stress. The workload didn’t warrant it. The practicalities of the economy and the environmental situation didn’t warrant it. But it was undeniably and unquestionably the right thing for this organisation to do. This decision would later be subsided in part by the federal funding initiate Job Keeper, but at that time there was no such safety net or financial lifeline.

We have all since seen or heard of brave empathetic individuals seeking to hold up others throughout the past year, but on the whole most organisations have been focused on their own survival. Whilst most organizations continued to ‘let’ people go from their jobs in waves, ours, far from being an affluent organisation and in a sector amongst the worst impacted, sought to wrap a blanket of warmth, care and security around its own.

And instantly I was reminded just what community means, and what it stands for. Standing shoulder to shoulder, as individuals, as employer and employees, and as a society, in solidarity and strength. Until we can make it out the other side.