What to say when there’s nowt to say
There are many moving tributes to the NHS out there, but I was really struck by a snippet I heard on the BBC from a little old man who’d recovered from the Coronavirus, who described the excellent treatment he'd received. He said he woke up one morning and as a nurse drew the curtains she said “We’re going to get you better today”, and he did.
It sounded just like what a nurse would say, and it reminded me so vividly of the times when I’ve been in desperate situations and have relied on experts to provide solace. Suddenly you’re hanging on someone’s every word, looking desperately for clues as to how things will really pan out. Nothing else will do.
Way before lockdown I regularly visited the huge Asda near me to gauge the mood of the nation. How bad was this Coronavirus really? It turns out that the Asda stress test was a bad one. Upturned crates, empty shelves and nothing but frozen sprouts that it seems no one will ever eat - not even in a pandemic - suggested the outlook was bleak.
However, a few days later I found myself in Morrisons, which was a totally different story.
Shiny food, fuller shelves, no miserable Coldplay on the tannoy. Where there wasn’t any food, the packets were confidently arranged towards the front, rather than being left scattered all over the place. This tiny difference made me feel reassured, that there was someone taking charge, looking out for people, and that therefore everything would be ok.
I realised I was ‘doing as Asda’ with my news consumption so I switched from Sky News to the BBC whose strait-laced tone usually utterly grates on me. But this time I wanted strait-lacedness, order and calm. I don’t want visits to Italian hospitals in jeans and t-shirts, I want those nursery school-style teachers in their starched shirts and their forced jollity. (But not Carol with the weather. Never Carol with the weather).
As soon as I made the switch I felt better. I wasn’t kidding myself that things weren’t bleak, I was taking control of what I was consuming.
At times like this, we’re looking anywhere and everywhere for a believable voice in the panic. Someone who can be trusted to steer us towards the truth. The trouble is no one really knows what the truth is.
But we can choose who we listen to. And the advisers who show they’re worth listening to are those who are offering emotional reassurance, rather than just market volatility information, because they understand that their clients are people, and that in the absence of facts, positivity can be just as valuable.
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