Power and Passion (10 page)

Okay, don't be nervous now
, Sara told
herself, putting down her coffee cup and picking up her cell phone.
No messages, no texts. Pierce hadn't called her since the previous
morning, and she wasn't worried about his wellbeing, just that he
was working too hard. Sometimes he got so caught up in whatever
project was on his plate at the moment that he simply forgot the
outside world existed—and unfortunately that included her. She
understood putting your all into your work, but she couldn't help
feeling just a little bit dejected about it. What would happen when
they were married? Would he simply not come home for days at a
time?

Sara shook her head and looked once more out
to the ski slopes, which were quite busy for ten o'clock on a
weekday morning. She smiled; the special-needs groups were enjoying
the skiing and toboggoning.

"Sara? Is that you?"

She heard the voice behind her and turned
around in her seat, and there was Joan just as Sara had remembered
her: a tall, strong woman with short, silver hair wearing
comfortable, light-colored pants and jacket, a white shell
underneath. Several fine gold chains hung around her neck, swaying
as she strode around the table to face Sara. "So good to see you
again. You're looking wonderful. How have you been?"

As Joan took a seat across the small table,
Sara flashed an involuntary smile back at her, suddenly remembering
how warm it felt to be in this woman's presence. It had been so
long since their last meeting that she had forgotten about Joan's
talent for making anyone feel at ease around her. She was a
motherly type but not overly so—she believed in encouraging, not
coddling, and would tell you things as they really were.

"I've been doing quite well, thank you,"
Sara replied, holding her hand up to call for the waiter. He came
over, and they ordered a pot of tea and an assortment of cakes.

"And how are you, Joan? How is your family?
From what I remember, the last time I saw you, your son's wife had
a baby on the way."

"Oh!" Joan laughed as she pulled in her
chair. "That was three grandchildren ago. Matthew and his wife had
their girl, Emily, then my other son, David, Jr., and his wife had
David the third. Now Erin just had her daughter, Mackenzie, about
six months ago."

"How wonderful," Sara replied, clasping her
hands together in front of her. "Your family is increasing
quickly." "It is, and I love it. We have been very blessed lately."
Joan smiled again, a twinkle apparent in her eye. This was a happy
woman both outwardly and inwardly; it was easy to see her joy
radiating around her like an aura. "Now what have you brought me
here to talk about?" She glanced out the window. "Not that I'm
complaining. What a view! Have you ever skied here?"

"Oh, yes. I love to ski. I haven't had much
time lately, but I still like to stop by and watch sometimes."

Joan nodded. "So many wonderful things to do
here in Dubai, never enough time to do them all. I understand."

The waiter came by with their order, and the
women were quiet as he poured them each a cup of tea. Joan drank
hers plain; Sara added milk and sugar.

"So the reason for our meeting here," Sara
began, dabbing at her lips with a napkin. She looked down at the
table for a moment, gathering her thoughts as she watched Joan help
herself to a delicious-looking tiramisu. "Well, I have to admit I'm
not sure where to start." She looked up at Joan, whose attention
was fixed on her. "I guess first I should admit that you inspired
me to head down this road. When I saw you on TV a few nights ago,
talking about your work when you were accepting your most recent
award, it made me question what I'm doing and how dedicated I am to
my cause."

Joan paused, fork in hand, as she was about
to cut into her cake. "Oh, Sara, never compare yourself to anyone
else, no matter who it is. That's just a recipe for heartache. Your
only competitor should be yourself."

"That is good advice, thank you." Sara
sipped her tea then replaced the cup on its saucer. She thought for
a moment before speaking. "But don't you find that difficult? I
mean…" She laughed lightly, feeling a little embarrassed to say it.
"Isn't that sort of our nature as women? We're always looking at
other women to see how we fare against them. Whether it's our looks
or our clothes or even our jobs—"

Joan was nodding again slowly. "I know
exactly what you're getting at. And I suppose you could say it's
programmed into us, this need to value ourselves based on the value
we perceive in others." She paused, raising an eyebrow at Sara.
"But you know that is a false sense of worth, right? Nothing
another person does has any bearing on your value as an individual
and especially not as a woman."

Now Sara nodded then brought her cup up for
another sip of tea as she thought. What Joan said was undeniably
true: Sara knew that Joan's success did not make her own
achievements—or lack thereof, as she saw it—any less valid or
important. And in this culture, as opposed to in the West, where
she grew up, there was not so much emphasis on comparing one woman
to another. There were, however, some fairly formidable cultural
norms she often found herself butting up against.

"Joan, let me ask you," she began. This
wasn't quite on topic but a question Sara felt compelled to ask
anyway. "How long have you lived in Dubai? How long have you worked
here?"

"Oh, let's see." She looked out the window
again as a group of skiers climbed onto the lift. "David and I came
here in…well, I suppose it's been almost ten years now." She looked
back at Sara, eyebrows raised. "I just can't believe it's been that
long. So I started Hearts and Minds nine years ago then. Why do you
ask?"

"Well, I guess I would just like your
opinion on what it is like to live and work here as a woman. I know
how it is for younger women, both expats and those who grow up
here. Dubai is so modern, so cutting edge in many ways, but it's
very traditional too. In many families girls are still taught to
focus on family and home life, while boys are taught to go out to
work and focus on a career. There's nothing wrong with that if
people want to choose these roles for themselves. The issue I have
seen, however, is that many young women
want
to get out
there in the workforce. They want to be out in the world but feel
they cannot because that would be going against what is expected of
them."

Joan stirred her tea absently as Sara spoke.
Then she put her spoon down and crossed her arms, resting them on
the edge of the table. "I can give you another side to that story.
For every woman who longs to get out there and run a business of
her own, there is another who is finishing her postgraduate degree
and moving right into a position in senior management in one of the
region's top companies. Maybe you don't see it like I do because
your organization has such a specific focus. I can't imagine
Special Olympics has much to do with the corporate world."

Sara smiled. "No, not really. We're more
concerned with the individuals we serve."

"Of course you are." Joan nodded at the
waiter, who had come over with a fresh pot of tea. She waited as he
poured them each a cup. "And that's exactly as it should be. Those
athletes are the root of your cause, the reason all of you are
there in the first place." She paused and thought for a moment. "In
that regard, we're not so different, you and I. In running Hearts
and Minds, I keep one thing in mind: all the people we might help.
I think about the young mother who never heard of a mammogram until
she saw one of our articles in the
Gulf News
. The
grandfather who was afraid to get tested for colon cancer until he
saw our TV spot about it. This is what matters to me—not the
business, not the glory, but our ability to make a difference in
people's lives. And maybe even save a few of them."

Joan stopped again and drank her tea for a
moment, working to gather her thoughts. "At any rate, as I was
saying, there are female role models here. There are women who are
fortunate enough to pursue an education and go for what they want.
Yes, sometimes they have to balance it with the family and societal
dynamics you mentioned. I won't lie; it's not always easy for them.
Some have to put off what they want until their children are older
and they're not so busy at home. Some others take the leap into the
workforce but then for various reasons withdraw after just a few
years." "I've seen that happen." Sara kept her voice low. "A woman
in my office, not much older than I am, worked at least eight hours
a day then went home and took care of her three small children, and
she felt like she was torn between two worlds. She loved her job,
but of course she loved her family more, so in the end she had to
quit. She couldn't take the guilt and the stress. But, Joan, she
looked so heartbroken on the day she left. I know she wanted to
work at SO with all her heart."

Joan sat back. "My guess is her husband
didn't help enough. I'm not saying he's a bad person—that's just
the way it is. He probably works, too, and in that case, when two
parents work, who is more likely to give up their job to care for
the children? That's an international phenomenon, not just one that
happens here." She looked out the window for a minute as she
thought. "I read about this new study just the other day that came
out of Britain. Showed that even though more women are working
these days and finding more equality in their careers, they're
still doing at least two-thirds of the chores at home." She looked
back at Sara. "Even when they're the breadwinners. Can you believe
that?"

Sara laughed a little. "Sadly, yes. I have
many married friends in just that position." She shrugged a bit as
well. "Not just here but in the United States and back in Canada as
well. Doesn't matter where you live—a mother is always more likely
to put her life on hold for her family."

Joan smiled. "I did it, and I don't regret
it. I love my children, and I was happy to be there for them. You
might do it, too, one day. But we have to keep in mind that what is
good for us might not be good for every other woman. Anyway, we
could debate the pros and cons of that scenario for the rest of the
day. What's
really
interesting to me right now is the rise
of the stay-at-home dad in Dubai."

"No," Sara said, reaching out to take a cake
for herself. She wasn't going to eat, but the chocolate one just
seemed to be calling her name right then. "Is that really a thing
now? I've never heard of it."

"Well, it's not on the evening news yet. But
I'm coming across more and more women in the business world who
work while their husbands are at home with the kids full time. It's
already pretty prevalent in America—my daughter Erin's husband, for
example. When Erin's maternity leave is over, he'll be staying home
with their daughter. It just makes more sense for them
financially."

Sara nodded, taking a bite of her cake. She
tried to imagine this scenario in her own future life: still
working at Special Olympics while Pierce stayed home and cared for
their children. Even in her mind she could see the panic on his
face; he would not know what to do with himself if he didn't work.
The thought made Sara laugh a little but alarmed her at the same
time. Is that what their marriage would be like? She did want to
have children. But what if she wanted to keep her job too?

"Don't look so panicked," Joan told her,
breaking into her thoughts. "Dads are staying home more, but
workplaces are getting more flexible too. Employers understand that
sometimes both parents have to or want to work. Flex time, part
time, working at home—all sorts of options exist. This work culture
will change eventually whether it wants to or not. It won't happen
today or tomorrow, maybe not even by the time you have to make
these decisions yourself. It got this way over thousands of years;
it's going to take a few generations at least to start to get it
sorted out. But don't worry. We're already working on it. There is
a light at the end of the tunnel, and it is in sight."

Sara let out a long breath. "Thank you,
Joan. Is it obvious that I'm so concerned?"

"No more than the rest of us," Joan replied.
"We're women. We have to think about these things."

Sara paused and took a sip of her
steaming-hot tea. She felt very relieved. This was why she had
liked Joan so much the last time they had worked together. Aside
from all the practical things Joan knew—the details Sara had wanted
to pick her brain about that day—she offered a wealth of constant
reassurance, advice, and insight that was truly invaluable to any
younger woman. Joan had been there and done that, as they say, and
she had learned so much along the way. What was more, she always
seemed to want to share this hard-earned wisdom.

"All right, so let's get down to business
here," Joan said. "Tell me your idea about the gala first. Then
we'll talk about what we can do to improve it."

Sara laid out the bare bones of her
tentative plan: the fundraising, the activities, the people she
would want to invite. She had so many disparate ideas and no clue
how to draw them all together. "Joan, to be honest," she concluded,
"I'm not even sure what I want to ask you. I just need help
figuring it all out."

"Okay," Joan said, pulling her chair closer
to the table. She cleared her throat and folded her hands—her
business stance, Sara thought. This had to be what she looked like
when she was brokering a deal. "Here is what we're going to do.
Like I told you on the phone last night, we must start with a
proposal, a business plan of sorts for your idea. We're going to
nail down potential venues, food vendors, DJs and bands, auction
houses that might want to participate—just for the publicity, of
course. The goal here is not to pay for any of it or at least to
get these services at extremely reduced fees. Many companies want
to get involved with fundraisers because it raises their own
image—people see their logo attached to the event and they equate
that company with doing good. It's a win-win for everyone."