A moment of thought

It was a blustery winter’s evening; a far cry from a romantic Dickensian scene. I was frustrated and impatient, wedged between post match football fans congregating outside a closed train station at the start of my journey back to Leeds.

I asked the helpful man behind the bullet proof screen 'what are the chances of me catching this train?' He shook his head, clenched his jaw and made that face you make when someone tells you about the time the trapped their finger in a door. 'How about the one after that?' I asked. 'And the one after that?' The face did not change.

A few minutes later, having reluctantly rejoined the crowd, the man beckoned me back over to the window. He looked like he was up to no good. He awkwardly drew the blind down and whispered covert instructions into the microphone. I listened with my ear to the speaker and followed accordingly. For no reason other than 'I just didn't want you to get stuck in the middle of nowhere on your own' the man had allowed myself and another solo female passenger to sneak through the train station offices, through a labyrinth of corridors and onto the platform. Meanwhile the mob outside were none the wiser.

As well as putting a smile on my face for no less than a week this got me thinking. It's the random acts of baseless kindness that get us through the year. Particularly during the post Christmas winter, when fun seems to hibernate and the sun has presumably taken his hat to the drycleaners.

Random acts, though tiny and sometimes insignificant, require us to be a little more thoughtful for an extra moment. Thoughtfulness is all it takes. So why aren't we all doing it? Why isn't it the norm? And what happens when we forget to be thoughtful?

In the NHS we expect our frontline staff to be thoughtful at all times. When things go wrong, it's usually because of lack of thought rather than destructive intentions. So what can we do to tip the balance in our favour and avoid the dreaded mediocrity?

Well, I have a plan and I would like you to join me. On the first Friday of every month commit a random act of baseless kindness. Buy a stranger a cup of coffee or share a happy thought with a colleague. Give someone a compliment. Make a pledge for NHS change day. Be thoughtful.

Girl out of the city

Hello there, it's me, the city girl who, last year, was forcibly removed from the concrete jungle she called home and delicately placed in the beautiful Yorkshire dales. Why? You ask. All in the name of the NHS management training scheme. A huge and exciting adventure made all the more brilliant by my surprise relocation.

So what have a learnt so far? Where do I begin?! For starters, when in Yorkshire, having a biscuit to 'put you on' doesn't mean you have a carb related sexual fetish.

‘Put you on’ : [puht y’ohn] meaning: that snack you have when you don’t want to spoil your appetite before  a meal but you simply can’t do without a little something…to put you on.

In addition to this useful clarification I have also realised that the NHS does even more for me than I had ever realised. Yes, you may have to wait for four hours in A&E when you have drunk yourself silly or stepped on a plug (I imagine this is equal in pain to childbirth – I live in hope) and yes, we all like a good moan, but actually the NHS is like your favourite pair of shoes. Not everyone likes them, they might look a bit worn out; but they are always there for you, to support you and make you feel a million dollars as you strut through life.

Since working for the NHS every friend, relative and acquaintance has imparted upon me their, obviously correct, solution to 'fix the NHS' and make it all better. At first I was slightly dismissive of this but then I realised that this is the NHS. It's owned by us and of course we all have an opinion (and we ALL think Alan Sugar should hire us because we are GREAT and perfect and know all the answers). That's what makes working for the NHS so exciting and challenging and dynamic. And that’s what has inspires me to work harder and really push myself. It’s what I affectionately call ‘NHS guilt’ – that feeling on a snowy day when you realise that a day in bed would not be a day well spent when you could be turning a valuable cog in a brilliant machine.

The training I have taken part in so far has opened my eyes like kiddie in a sweet shop. I've realised that being an extravert doesn't just mean that I'm noisy and confident. It means that I think out loud and that telling me to stop being chatty won't stop me being chatty. It will make me stop learning. My personal challenge now is to appreciate introversion and understand how best to communicate with people who do silent thinking.

I have also learnt that I am a fire fighter. Not literally, one public sector workplace at a time please. I look for quick wins. The more I think about this the more I want to see what would happen if I were to work in or manage a strategic team. Would the job get done any quicker?

I can now confirm in my infinite wisdom that 2% of all the people you know right now will make you want to punch a wall. That's just how it is. But we shouldn't write the rules to account for those people who advantage. We need to focus on the 98% of people who are loyal, honest and committed and make the minority want to be a part of our club. Of course, we will welcome them with open arms as we tear up our lengthy expenses and annual leave policies.

And finally, after one year I am quite confident that I understand units of time in Yorkshirespeak. It's simple really; you have your dinner at lunch, your tea at dinner and a cuppa if you're thirsty.

My dear bloggee, we have come to the end of my inaugural blog. Until the next one, how about a lovely slab of cake…to put you on!