Let's not be too quick to criticise
MANY years ago, when I was a fledgling hack with hair and hope, I covered a story about one of the extremist parties fielding a candidate in a local election, unusual in those days when the fascists preferred fisticuffs to the electoral process.
My phone rang on the morning the piece appeared and it was the frothing fanatic of the far right. He was a very unhappy white supremicist bunny.
“You did a story about me in today’s paper,” he said.
“Yes. What’s the problem with that?”
“You gave my name as Mr Cocks,” he grumbled.
“We always give candidates’ names,” I said self-righteously, anticipating that he was going to object to being identified.
“But my name’s Mr Balls...”
Thankfully, he didn’t want an apology in the newspaper.
It’s a funny anecdote – or at least one that I, with my juvenile and lavatorial sese of humour, find amusing.
But the important point is that it taught me that even someone as infallible as I am can make mistakes: a fact my wife is fond of reminding me (though she leaves out the “infallible” bit).
It’s a lesson that’s not always at the forefront of my mind, though. For, like most of us, I find that frustration and anger has more force than tolerance and reason.
And, it has to be admitted, it’s hard not to fly off the handle when dealing with large organisations that seem to treat clients and customers with disregard.
Like the National Health Service – an organisation which I’ve criticised in the past for delays in appointments and misdiagnoses and various other perceived shortcomings.
But its failings, I’d guess, have often been caused by a shortage of resources or inadequate training or simple human error.
It’s my firm belief that the overwhelming majority of those who work in the NHS try to do a good job and that this country would be a far worse place if it didn’t exist or if its ethos was undermined by cutbacks or dogmatic changes to the way it works.
After a weekend in which my 15-year-old son broke his arm in two places in a skateboarding accident, that conviction is even stronger.
A lazy Friday evening turned into a frantic one as we left behind the chilled bottle of white wine and whizzed him to Birmingham Children’s Hospital. We were seen swiftly in A&E and a diagnosis was made within minutes.
My son’s treatment was carried out with very little delay, explanations were thorough and understandable and we were shown extraordinary respect and kindness by the staff who dealt with us.
More than seven years had passed since any previous major dealings with the Children’s Hospital and I thought things had improved markedly in that time.
Which is a great thing to be able to write as a bloke more apt to moan than praise.
Now, have I got the right name for the hospital..?
* What do you think? Write to Your Say, Birmingham Mail, Floor 6, Fort Dunlop, Fort Parkway, Birmingham B24 9FF
