We seem to liver in a world, or at least a country, where cynicism is a way of life. The spending cuts recently announced were inevitable, whoever won the last election. It was always a question of how much, how quickly, and not, "we mustn't cut spending". The media, however, have gone off on their rabble rousing activities where even the impartial BBC keep asking us "What's fair for you - are you a winner or a loser?" Maybe we should ask the French or the Greeks what is fair and what isn't.
How many times have you come across a situation where a customer asks you for change? The common stock response, or politely drafted head office answer is "I'm sorry, but we aren't allowed to open the till unless it's to make a sale", which really means "No, we're a pharmacy, we supply medicines. I think it's the bank you want, why not go and ask them for your change?"
On one of my weekly days of work in the real world as opposed to the office, what I like to think of as my "back to the floor" task, I recently got asked the very question. No, not "Is it fair?", but, "Could you possibly change this £5 note into £1 coins for me?" As I was working in someone elses pharmacy, I asked the dispenser whether the company allowed us to do so. I didn't want to get anyone in trouble for acting on my own initiative, nor to set a precedent for the future which might be uncomfortable for all concerned. I didn't get the answer to the question, she simply checked the change tin and swapped the note for the coins and carried on with what she had been doing.
The elderly lady seemed rather pleased and thanked us profusely, wandered about the small sales area and perused the shelves for a moment or two, then shuffled towards the exit, wishing us a very good day and thanking us again. Just before the door, she stopped by the till and carefully put the five £1 coins into the Macmillan Charity Box, and walked away without looking back.
Of course, businesses have to pay at the bank when they put in a change request, so there will have been some financial cost to that business in handing over the five £1 coins, even though the powers that be there may never know it took place, would they have sanctioned the "transaction" had they known?
Coincidentally, less than an hour later, two representatives of the charity came in and asked to empty the box. I recounted my tale of the coins and asked whether they accepted notes in the boxes. They weren't entirely sure but felt that any donation would be acceptable, whatever the form, as I'm sure we all would. Our conversation drifted round to all the good work done by this and other charities, and whether the government understood just how much people depended on services such as those provided by Macmillan. Anyone who has would understand immediately that their work is priceless, but we also concluded that people would do good works not because of the payment, but because only another human, not a government, can understand how much a hand to hold when you are lonely, or a voice at the other end of a telephone when you don't know what to do next, can transform your world.
The ladies were delighted with the money they had collected from the charity box. For the record, it was around £38. If every box they emptied contained as much as this, they explained, we could do so much more. "It just shows that there are a lot of good people out there", they concluded as they were leaving. I am left wondering how many charity boxes around the country are all the more poor because the owner or manager of the premises refuses to give change unless they open the till for a sale.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment