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Seeking Nuance

Writer's picture: AmandaAmanda

Balanced river pebbles

Today at the day job I had my end of year assessment, where a respected manager was to give me feedback on my year, and how best to progress during this coming year. It is generally not something I look forward to.


One of the pieces of advice he had written on my annual review was:


"Seek nuance – avoid win or lose, success or failure, supporter or blocker outcomes"


I work in a high-demand role for a popular brand - a mixture of sales and marketing - and it is true that within this space I can often come to quick decisions which fall either side of the road. It is very rare I will decide on the middle-of-the-road. It can be quite stressful doing this merry dance every day, so I agreed that this is something I could work on for the new year.


I did not think much about it, and continued on with my work.


Suddenly I got a call from a local pub and eatery. My 19 year old son had had an epileptic seizure, was bleeding heavily, and they had found my number on his ID card in his wallet. I rushed to the car and drove straight down to the pub.


As I entered the warm, comfortable looking lounge, the landlady showed me to the pool area. It was free pool that evening, and my son was often there on his nights off work. Several people circled my son, who was dazed and still not recovered from the recent fit. I was informed an ambulance had been called, because of the amount of blood, and sure enough they arrived within a minute of me arriving and started to check him over for injury and the reason for the bleeding.


As they worked, I watched the people who were helping him.


There was his young friend, who's quick reactions meant my son was able to fit safely. An older man was talking to him, ignoring the fact my son was rambling incoherent replies. He was cradling his head, to insure any tremors caused no further damage, carefully checking him for cuts or bruising. He seemed to me to be familiar with someone having a seizure. His way was calming for me, as I was not yet fully familiarised with them. My son had only recently been diagnosed. Beside him the landlady had settled on a chair, looking on in concern.


"Did I do the right thing?" she asked me. I nodded, and shot her an appreciative glance before turning my attention back to my son, watching for cues as to how he was feeling, and whether he was coming to, trying to hear what the paramedics were saying to him.


Beside him a newly-poured half-pint of beer laid untouched on the table, and his pool cue lay on the floor beneath him. He had not even been there for ten minutes before the fit had happened, and it had been very sudden and unexpected.


The paramedics seemed satisfied that the fit had caused no serious harm, and that all the blood had sprung from his tongue, which he had bitten when the seizure started. My heart slowed a little, stress leaving my body as it did, and as the paramedics stood to take details on their computers I sat beside my son and held his hand. I gazed around the pub as I did so. He would not be fully responsive for another twenty minutes.


The sun shone through the window, and just outside you could see the beach, and endless ocean, with a ferry in the distance making its way slowly back to Portsmouth. It was calm, a beautiful crisp winters day, and a few dog-walkers were out with their charges, throwing balls across the pebbles, watching as the dogs excitedly retrieved them.


My attention turned to the interior of the pub, bright and warm and friendly, with a huge pool table in the middle of the room, expertly felted, and neat chalks and pool cues stacked to the side of the room. Small wooden side tables adorned the edges of the room with old-fashioned chairs beside each of them, allowing for spectators to the sport happening in the centre of the room. A low hum came from the main bar area, and occasional laughter broke out near the dart board as the youths removed their darts for another round.


The irony caught my attention then. I am an alcohol freedom coach, sat in a public house.


Was this enemy territory? I inwardly chuckled to myself.


The friendly "enemy" landlady, who had ensured my son's safety, took my phone number from me. My son was a welcome regular, she said, and she wanted a contact number for me in case of emergency. His friend took my number too, adding that he never drank alcohol - it did not serve him. I smiled at him at this. So many younger people now never want to touch alcohol, realising from the off that it serves no purpose. He had bought a lovely car instead, his first, and that was his passion. Alcohol and driving did not mix, he said. He preferred to drive his car everywhere he could. He took a drink of his cola drink, and replaced it back on the table with a grin.


The pub felt warm and comforting, and there were a few people enjoying a coffee and a natter, I noted to myself, although most had a beer in front of them, or a goldfish bowl glass of gin and tonic. It felt very safe. Peaceful. Calm. I had never noticed so many people not drinking alcohol in a pub before, although this being a seaside pub may have swung the decision.


My son started to look better, the colour returning to his face, the bleeding had stopped. He was completely oblivious to the drama that had preceded, but exhausted. We decided he would come home for food, which always speeded up his recovery, post-fit, and then return for his well-earned night of free pool games. I thanked everyone individually, and bid everyone goodbye, and walked slowly back to my car deep in thought.


The pub was not the enemy, nor the people within it, it was safety in that moment. There is no good or bad in the war against alcohol, even if you find yourself losing your way with drinking alcohol. I still go to pubs and meet friends, and the ones near to me are particularly good now at stocking some lovely alcohol-free alternatives for the ever-growing sober curious tribe. I am spoiled for choice.


There is more than enough space for the brave souls who choose to go alcohol free, and for the businesses who rely heavily on it for revenue. Alcohol does not divide us, not any more. No success, no failure, no supporters, no blockers. No win, and no lose.


Just real, decent human beings. Some of whom made a real difference to me and my son today. And I am forever grateful for them.


Amanda x


Pool table in a pub




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