I’ve been quiet on this blog for a while.
There are a number of reasons for this, some of which I won’t go into. Sometimes a social media cull and pause is exactly what you need. To remind you of the reason you first started writing, and to renew your intentions, drive and purpose.
I started writing to tell people about poor customer service experiences I had encountered while going about my daily life. At one point, I had racked up enough goodwill payments from Santander that I had enough to pay for a Mulberry bag on a Bicester trip. There was also that time that British Airways refused to sit my husband and I together on the return leg of our tour of China. Mr Cross looked at me, and asked if I was going to do my thing. I nodded so he said he would stand aside. Thirty minutes of English, Cantonese and Mandarin, with my negotiation skills that had been honed in private practice. The result: two club class tickets for the 11-hour flight back to Heathrow.
This post is two-fold. One, to go full circle back to my consumer complaints issues. And two, to highlight what someone said to me that struck a chord in relation to mental health matters.
I will start with the mental health issue. We are undergoing a programme of house renovation works, which is a more extensive process than you might think. Finding a person or company who looks half decent is one thing. But actually getting them to agree a time and then actually turn up is completely another.
When a supplier does turn up as agreed, the fact that this is novel and refreshing is both a good and bad thing. When did service standards get so sloppy so that you are pleasantly surprised that they arrive at the pre-arranged time?
So when one gentleman was actually early, what a shock! And then, the conversation turned to mental health. I am open about being bipolar, because I feel that we should encourage these chats. The man’s brother took his own life. No one had any idea of the predicament he was in. The phrase “the life and soul of the party” is banded around all too much. He was the guy that was always ready with a joke, cheering up everyone else, and carrying everyone else’s burden. But this was just a mask. He was alone, and felt he had nobody to turn to.
Returning to the customer service complaint, I asked to speak to a girl’s line manager as having explained that a bipolar episode was the reason a voucher had expired, the girl told me to get lost. This kind of behaviour is exhibited all to often at all levels of society. Whether it be that mental health is not a real thing, because it isn’t a broken leg, or because honestly “what have you got to be unhappy about?” This just shows the level of ignorance and lack of understanding and how despite politicians ranting on about how mental health matters, these words are meaningless without sincerity and true intent.
If there was one thing I would change about the world, it would be to imagine the consequences of one’s words on another if that person were at the complete pit of darkness stage in their lives. That there was no hope left, and a struggle to find anything worth living for. You never know what someone is going through. One smile, one laugh, one kind word, it might be only a small gesture from you, but it could mean the world to someone else. If you can be anything at all, be mindful.
