Rebuke

One day, a city was struck by a hurricane.

There's no joy for the citizens in such bad weather, and certainly none for the fire brigade. All the firemen were exhausted. And that's not all. Some frustrated firemen grabbed the streetsleepers' shawls and blankets to wrap themselves up in. Some defecated in the open. Some fled. Morale had been swept away as if by a tsunami.

So what can be done to a poor guy whose home happened to be on fire?

The answer: not much - at least not immediately according to that fire brigade's triage system.

There are few experiences as depressing as a fire brigade's manager who was helpless and watched his home ablaze. Horror. Sheer horror. That's what the manager felt when he decided to make a long distance call to his fireman friend in another city. His friend was a middle-aged fireman who had been in the fire service for years.

The middle-aged fireman rushed to the scene, did his job, and went home before the manager had time to thank him. The fireman, by now quite used to help people in need, didn't seem too flamboyant at the thought of his rescue. He almost forgot the event until, one week later, he received a complaint letter from the hard-pressed fire brigade. "Oh," said the middle-aged fireman, puzzled. He glanced at the complaint, with a frown. He said nothing for a while. He was more than a little bewildered by the intrusive language.

"All right," said the middle-aged fireman. "All right. I won't let this ridiculous letter sour my daughter's birthday tomorrow." He tried to control his temper and started to write a spur-of-the-moment reply:

My dear colleagues,

I confess that I went to your city and put the conflagration out last Wednesday morning. I had no right whatsoever to be critical of the way you feedback. Please forgive me.

The scene happened to be our fire brigade senior manager's home. The flames were out of control, and his home could have burned to the ground within minutes. I happened to know this manager for many years, and he requested me to make a quick assessment. I find it not true that I "didn't acknowledge any of your team member (as what was written in the feedback)." In fact, I was so grateful that your fire service superintendent handed me the hose and gave me a key to the equipments. I did return them after finishing my job.

Now I ask your forgiveness because I violated your policy. I'm very sorry that I had to let the poor gentleman "jump the queue (to quote your words)." I thought an early intervention was necessary to help my fire victim - before everything turns into ashes. I don't want to whitewash my stupid mistake, but the fact is that the house was saved.

When I read the sentence in your feedback letter that I "create more chaos and endanger all the other people waiting to be seen," I would beg to differ. I am in no position to make your department more chaotic than the current situation - and how can I?

You might call this type of wording an Attorney's Apology: "I confess to nothing, but if I'm guilty of anything, forgive me and please be lenient on me."

But my mother has always taught me that an apology requires our pride step aside, our egos lie low, and our prejudice die down. I will make this short and sincere...

"I'm sorry. Will you forgive me?"