Why is everyone going mental about zero-hours contracts?

Sanity needed.

Last week’s revelations about the extent of the use of zero-hours contracts in the UK caused an almighty uproar in the national press and only a minority of commentators made anything that could be described as a measured response. The government’s reaction, that it "would examine" the issue, is the correct one. Zero-hours contracts do need to be examined and managed more effectively, but they certainly ought not to be banned, as several commentators suggested last week.

Even those commentators most hardened against the idea of zero-hours contracts did concede that there were some situations in which their use was appropriate. Indeed, it’s hard to see how some industries could operate without at least some use of zero-hours contracts. At an outdoor tourist attraction, for example, a good weather forecast could see a fivefold increase in custom, but staffing in accordance with that maximum capacity would be prohibitively expensive. However, that is not to say that there is no problem, and it is not just the government which needs to examine how these contracts are used.  Employers too, need to look at how they implement zero-hours contracts. If their use is as widespread as is claimed, then any abuse of them has the potential to have a perceptible impact on the economy as a whole.

The most serious issue is that of employers discriminating against workers who refuse hours offered by their manager. There’s been no real investigation of how widespread that practice is, but no sensible businessperson could justify such behaviour. Unless there is a real shortage of staff, the only inconvenience caused by an employee turning down hours is that of sending another text, or making another phone call to find a replacement. That infinitesimal saving in time certainly doesn’t make up for the negative impact of instilling anxiety and resentment in a business’s staff.

That impact will soon translate to an actual cost. From a purely financial perspective, increasing the use of zero-hours contracts may initially appear to, but using them inappropriately can have a real impact on the quality of a business’s customer service. Customer service representatives are the face of the company, and employees who begrudge the way they are treated by their employer are unlikely to make that face a very pretty one. A worker who is stressed or unprepared for work will not perform to the best of their ability, and that is the inevitable consequence of using a zero-hours contract where a full-time arrangement is more suitable. If managers feel that they need to pressure employees into accepting hours, then that is a fair indication that that is what is going on.

In many cases, it’s possible that the over-use of zero-hours contracts has come about as a reaction to worries about fluctuations in productivity and custom, thinning operating margins, and anxieties about staffing in response to these changes. It may even be down to a lack of skill amongst managers in scheduling staff appropriately. However, the technology that can be used to predict activity levels within a workplace, to schedule staff and to monitor productivity is now so advanced that such an unscientific and potentially damaging approach really ought to be a thing of the past.

Human error can be significant, and most managers have better things to do with their time than work out staffing rotas, but an automated approach leaves the manager free to work on improving the performance of their team, and identifying the training needs and potential of their staff. All of these processes can now be aided by software, and using such technology makes it immeasurably easier to accommodate different contract types within the organisation. This reduces anxieties about demand and capacity, and should make it less of a temptation for managers to over-use the zero-hours contract.

If last week’s furore demonstrated anything, it’s that clearer thinking is necessary when we consider an employer’s obligation towards their employees’ financial stability. An economy balanced towards the service industry will always require a high degree of flexibility. However, business leaders should not lose sight of the importance of employee engagement, and the impact that good morale can have on service quality. The argument against the over-use of zero-hours contracts is founded on business sense as much as upon ethics. The good news is that the technology exists to balance those obligations against the imperatives of fluctuating demand - government should do more to encourage its use.

Clearer thinking on the zero hours contract is needed. Photograph: Getty Images

Claire Richardson is VP at Verint

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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era