Archive for October, 2013

Lack of trust in the police – a massive reputation crisis to be tackled shift by shift

I’ve been collecting press cuttings on police misdemeanours for three or so years. They stack up quickly – and I don’t mean those about its huge failings (Hillsborough; Stephen Lawrence; Ian Tomlinson; Milly Dowler and phone hacking; leaking or selling information to the News of the World; Andrew Mitchell MP and Plebgate/Plodgate;) but many more smaller injustices meted out by the police in response, or not, to pleas of help from ordinary, law-abiding citizens in everyday situations.

They build a very clear picture. Trust in the police has been eroding over decades – unsurprisingly.

I’ve expressed my feelings of lack of trust – indeed, mistrust – to several friends and been rebuffed. “Oh, no. You’ve got it wrong,” they said. “The police do a great job in very difficult circumstances. This (whichever misdeed I’ve mentioned) is just a one-off.” I agree with the difficult circumstances bit (but that is presumably where training comes in, followed by experience and good leadership) but the rest is complacent piffle. And it is complacent piffle, from the public and politicians, that has allowed the police’s record to drift into disgrace.

The last time I was forced into silence before I’d even got into my stride was with two friends, both ex-Army or similar (and let’s not start a debate about the Army and trust … I live not far from Deep Cut), whose views were bucolic, and I mean that precisely. Living in small rural parishes surrounded by farmland, where even domestic burglary doesn’t happen often if at all, their experience of the police is of the local bobby on the beat, or dropping in on the local fête, plodding or clip-clopping past with a cheery smile and nothing much else to do all day and certainly nothing to do with the urban world many more of us live in – with experience of the police letting us down.

Laziness

It started when I was a teenager. Strolling with a friend in open doggy walkland, my handbag was snatched. The police did nothing beyond taking information and saying it wasn’t worth pursuing. To a girl, a handbag means two things: the contents (a little cash, bits and pieces of no consequence) and the bag itself (expensive and very of-the-time-cool). The bag mattered most. A few days later, another stroller found the handbag, took it to our then local grocer (this was in the days when grocers were a part of daily life and the community) who rang to let me know. Only the cash was gone. The bag was a bit soggy but dried out. The stroller and the grocer were appropriately thanked.  One happy girl – with a very clear first impression of the police.

Finders’ not keepers

I’ll spare you the details of the incident of the extremely valuable gold watch I found in the gutter outside Harvey Nichols which I was told, on taking it to the police station, would be mine if it wasn’t claimed within six weeks – which was then “claimed” between me ringing to ask if it had been claimed (and being told it hadn’t) and arriving at the police station to collect it five minutes later. There was no message of thanks from, or signature of, the apparent claimant mysteriously emerging five minutes before the deadline to prove it was honestly claimed. I reckoned I knew where it went.

Disbelieved and unbelievable

Then there was the time I lived above a restaurant which repeatedly breached its license causing massive disruption long into the night even before the noisy closing up process began. After weeks of this, and having tried the friendly neighbour approach, I called the police who claimed to be outside the restaurant while telling me it was closed with no customers in it or noise coming from it. Looking out of my window there was no policeman to be seen; the restaurant was in full swing. I wondered whether cases of wine regularly turned up at the police station to keep them on side. If this were the US, this would be the third strike with me and the police force’s reputation would be out; it was certainly on borrowed time in my world.

Lies, damned lies and misrepresentation

Worst of all was during my two stints at jury service. It was clear during one case that the policeman giving evidence was lying. His contemporaneous notes were written in such good prose (perfectly crafted sentences, not a record taken quickly while in the middle of an incident, and vividly unlikely) that the whole jury recognised he was not telling the truth. Didn’t his sergeant, the whole station, know he had fabricated his story? In a separate case, I noticed a policewoman supporting her colleague in court was engrossed in reading the Police Review while the case proceeded. Rather too engrossed, it seemed to me. When we, the jurors, were sent out mid-trial we passed this WPC and, glancing sideways, I noticed that the Police Review was merely a front; it was hiding a woman’s magazine. She was being paid to be there and pretending to be professional; we jurors, unpaid, were taking our role seriously.

Complacent

Finally … the theft of irreplaceable and valuable architectural features from 13 neighbouring houses – to which the police response was wholly inadequate; the local desk officer did not grasp the architectural, financial and community significance of the incident and did nothing; follow up calls went nowhere. Who in the local police hierarchy decided it wasn’t worth the bother and why?

The small stuff matters

The problem is that the police didn’t, unlike me, sweat the small stuff, which is what you will be thinking my anecdotes are all about. Yes, they are, but it is the small stuff that builds trust. Grand gestures – breakthroughs in major crimes, flushing out dangerous criminals, exposing civilians who lie about their involvement in a crime – are important, of course, but if individuals in their thousands, perhaps millions, are on the receiving end of a shoddy service – of laziness, lies, misrepresentation, lack of interest, self-interest … as evidenced in my cuttings file – it doesn’t matter how many big successes there are. We, the masses, have little or no trust.

We know that if ordinary PCs and WPCs can get away with this sort of bad behaviour, it is being endorsed by those higher up the ranks. It is leaders who set the culture; if they are weak, others will misbehave; if they bend the rules, others will break them; if they don’t set, monitor, nurture and reward an appropriate and professional culture, anarchy will overrule.

Disagree but don’t deny

There will be some who read this shaking their heads in disagreement. Of course the police do get it right some of the time but that doesn’t mean that it never gets anything wrong. To deny that the police force’s reputation isn’t seriously damaged – and in crisis – is to deny the facts. Just like the police.

No ringing endorsement

The post Plebgate/Plodgate ComRes survey for the BBC has been reported widely – in selective snapshot. So here’s another. The most significant results that the police should focus on are not just that one in four (25 per cent) of us is now less likely to trust the police (that is in addition to those of us who didn’t trust them anyway); but also that two in five of us (40 per cent) believe that the police try to cover up wrongdoings by those in the ranks; and that, even more significantly, roughly two thirds of us do not know what we feel about the police – we don’t know whether we trust them; we don’t know if we think they are open and honest or cover up wrongdoings – which is hardly a ringing endorsement.

One more chance?

In any organisation, it takes one wrong’un, and one weak manager, for the culture of a team or a shift to shift unacceptably. From there, one impressionable junior or a manager seeking approval can ensure the temporary shift becomes a permanent switch; it doesn’t take much more for the switch to spread. Police leaders now need to work on a major culture change – shift by shift, team by team not by grandstanding alone, though setting the tone is of course essential. It will take years, perhaps a generation or more, to change its culture and build trust – and I mean build, not rebuild, because, for many of us, it missed its first chance to make a good impression. Unbelievably, there seem to be enough civilians who believe the unbelievable and want to give the police a second chance – for the nth time. For many innocent civilians let down by the police, it is already living on borrowed time.

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Gordon Ramsay’s lost two Michelin Stars – more than one misfortune

As with many awards, it isn’t the winning that is the issue – it is the keeping. To win a Michelin Star is certainly an accolade which brings huge publicity and overwhelms the reservations line, enhancing reputations and bringing business success. To lose a Michelin Star … yes, you’ll face another surge of publicity, unwelcome this time, and, inevitably, a decline in people wanting to book – and a muddied, perhaps ruined, reputation for the (inevitably) high profile chef.

Many of today’s top chefs, wherever in the world they are, use their career progression to demonstrate their competence. Cutting their teeth while cutting tomatoes in a restaurant when it gained its first, second, third Michelin Star (or AA Rosette or any other well-respected culinary award) is indeed worth including in a CV. Saying, “I was head chef (or sous-chef or commis or anyone in the brigade) at Gordon Ramsay at The London NYC, Gordon Ramsay’s New York restaurant, when it was stripped of its two Michelin Stars” isn’t. Yet it might not have been the head chef’s (or anyone else in the brigade’s) fault. Maintaining a reputation depends on standards being set, taught or explained, monitored, reviewed, renewed and re-iterated – by the person at the top.

This is not a Gordon Ramsay bashing exercise. I’m a fan, obsessively watching his television programmes, marvelling at how he gets away with his antics on and off screen, and will never forget the lunch I had at Claridge’s when he was in charge of its restaurant (and oh how I wish it had been dinner so it could have gone on for longer). But, sadly, he seems to have done it again, doesn’t he – let things slip and not only at his own expense.

Many restaurants with Michelin Stars are, as is the case with The London NYC, in hotels which have their own reputations to manage. If a hotel restaurant is failing (and there are usually many signs), it is as much an issue for the hotel as it is for the restaurateur. Who wasn’t looking – at comments from customers, or tip sizes, or bookings, or local chat, or reviews? And who allowed it to get so bad that the restaurant was stripped not of one of its two stars, but both? To play on Lady Bracknell’s words in The Importance of being Earnest, “To lose one Michelin Star, Mr Ramsay, may be regarded as a misfortune; to lose both looks like carelessness”.

In this case, it is a double dose of carelessness. Late in 2009, Gordon Ramsay sold his stake in The London NYC; it had gained two Michelin Stars but hadn’t gone down well with New Yorkers; there were complications with heavily unionised staff; and it was losing money at a frightening pace; he continued to give menu and service advice – and the use of his name.

My advice is always to try to avoid a crisis – there is always something that can be done to reduce risks and it is more than disappointing that business leaders prefer not to spend relatively little on risk management even if they face spending far more on the (sometimes inevitable) crisis that follows. In this case, why did Gordon Ramsay continue to be associated with a restaurant that wasn’t working well? Was he simply dazzled by the Stars?

Leaving aside the issue that Gordon Ramsay and The London NYC failed to see this crisis coming, when a crisis blows what you say can mean the difference between protecting or damaging your reputation – for the long term.

Sitting at my MacBook Pro repeatedly Googling for a comment from Gordon Ramsay and The London NYC in response to being stripped of its Michelin Stars (nothing yet), I found a statement from The London NYC this July commenting on rumours that its two Gordon Ramsay restaurants were to close this September. The statement was given by The London NYC to Grub Street (a New York food news magazine) in July and has re-emerged in today’s UK’s Caterer and Hotelkeeper newsletter:

“We are currently engaged in ongoing negotiations with Local 6 [the hotel, restaurant, club and bartender employees union] regarding the renewal of the Gordon Ramsay Union contract. Hotel management and Union leadership have been working diligently to come to an amicable agreement. As a courtesy to our teams and the Union, we need to allow conversations to continue uninterrupted. It would be premature for us to provide information at this time, however we are confident we will be able to release a detailed update by end of this week or very early next week. We greatly appreciate your interest and look forward to sharing updates with you in an expeditious manner.”

It doesn’t say much, does it – because it can’t. As with almost every statement put out immediately after a crisis has blown, there is nothing much that can be said – because it is not known and speculating is never acceptable. But, you can – and must – say something that demonstrates a concern, a priority, a context, an emphasis, a respect for others caught up in the crisis with you – and that you are taking appropriate action. In reality, this statement – though it was given seemingly reluctantly and a little late – says rather a lot.

Now all that is needed is for both The London NYC and Gordon Ramsay to say something about their massive loss of two Michelin Stars. To minimise the damage to their worldwide reputations, they  must communicate.

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