What sort of a person are you?

A personal experience of ethics in the workplace

He cried down the phone like a baby.

His voice quivering. A grown man in his thirties with a young family. His 12 months of having his mortgage payment reimbursed had just come to an end and I, was the bearer of this bad news. I worked in creditor insurance. In claims.

He’d been working as a security guard when an armed robber had attacked him and he’d been forced off work. Shot in the foot and complications from the injury had spread.

As I listened to him relay his tale, I could hear my own dad’s callousness in my head. My dad, a convicted armed robber. How he’d once told me after his armed robbery with his sawn off shot gun;

“I wouldn’t have killed anyone, Julie, would only have shot him in the foot.”

Only shot him in the foot. Like it was nothing.

And now here I was, in an insurance call centre. Listening to just that. A man - an ordinary hard working father - who had been ‘only’ shot in the foot. A man about to lose his home because he could no longer claim his insurance and afford his repayments.

The deal was, you took out the mortgage repayment protector and should the worst happen, you got it reimbursed for twelve months. Not that anyone paid much attention to that bit when they signed up of course. They just heard “we pay your mortgage”. Anyway, his twelve months was up. It wasn’t right. Of course it wasn’t right he’d been shot, but how awful he must now also lose his home.

I kept my cool. You have to in those jobs. I trotted out the spiel. Spouted shite about terms and conditions. About there being nothing more we could do, had he read the small print…….

And then, he spoke to my heart. Pierced it really.

“You really should get another job. This is a horrible, inhuman job to have. Have you no morals? No heart? What sort of a person are you?”

I steadied myself into some flat reply.

“I can understand you feel upset, sir”

I made some ‘hm’s. Let him vent.

“I know this isn’t the news you were wanting….”

Blah de blah de blah

All as his heart was breaking. As he thought about how he’d tell his wife and kids, that they’d have to sell their home.

I used the skills I had learned. The ‘stuck record’ technique I’d been taught. The monotone repetitive drone that eventually people start to reflect back to you as it takes its trance like hold. I said phrases I’d learned like;

“So, moving on….”

Scripted bollocks in order to close the conversation.

I got to the end of the call and…….

I felt like fucking shit.

I told my colleagues what he’d said.

“He shouldn’t have said all that to you. Ignore him. He’s emotionally manipulating you. You were just doing your job.”

They said in solidarity.

But the more I thought about it, the more I thought he had a point.

It’s too easy to think we are innocents following instructions. That our actions in the workplace have no consequence. But if you are part of an organisation or company, you have to take responsibility for the role you play. When we say we are just cogs in the machine, we forget that without those cogs, the machine would not hold up, not work.

Sadly, I admit, it’s not the only unethical job I’ve ever done.

I had another one in sales. Selling high interest loans to those who were poor and couldn’t really afford them.

I’d been travelling, come back home to the UK and just needed ‘a’ job. So I’d done it. A temp job. I’d cold called these vulnerable people, flattered them by telling them they were ‘special’ customers eligible for ‘exclusive’ deals.

“Oh, thank you, but I don’t need a loan at the moment”

They’d say.

“Well bear us in mind because maybe you have a big event coming up, like a wedding or a ….”

“Oh actually…….my daughter is getting married..….”

And on it would go. I’d find some ‘way in’ with my cheery, ‘helpful’ patter. Perhaps they needed a bit of winter sun, their Christmas shopping taking care of….. There I was with my silver tongue, gift of the gab, actively encouraging irresponsible debt.

How nice and friendly and northern I sounded. Personable, trustworthy. I was very good at it. So much so, the company offered me a well paid full time position soon after. But there was just one problem.

I felt like an absolute cunt every night.

The way Mr Tumnus felt when he’d tricked Lucy.

No, I turned it down and walked away.

And the older I get, I realise we have to.

If part of our job requires us to do something we find distasteful, that does not sit well in our soul, we simply must find something else. Because no money is worth the disgust we feel with ourselves as part of these sickening machines. Machines that care not for people, only for profit and protocol. Advancement of fear and greed. For trickery.

I would now rather be destitute and living on cans of beans from a food bank than have any part in something that does not align with my own values.

During the Convid era, I observed people I knew, as well as those I didn’t ‘just following orders’, just doing their jobs. Taking down swings in parks. Breaking up kiddies birthday parties. Screwing themselves over by taking jabs they did not want because they felt obliged to.

Where does it end?

Answer - it ends with YOU.

NOW.

We may not be able to stop these cold machines we despise, but we can absolutely refuse to be a part of them.

Feeling at ease with one’s conscience is everything. We can never go back but we can decide to be true to ourselves and our principles as we go forward.

Trust me, I’ve been there.

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