One day at work I was standing on a chair pinning a poster on the wall when I was spotted and reprimanded by the health and safety officer. He told me that by using a chair I was breaking health and safety regulations and that in future, if I wanted to pin a poster on the wall, I should use a ladder. He also explained to me why using a chair instead of a ladder was dangerous, and described the ways in which I could hurt myself by doing so e.g. if a chair leg broke I could fall and break a leg.
A short time later when I wanted to pin more posters on the wall, I got an extremely nasty shock. Instead of using a ladder as advised, I once again used a chair. (Actually, the reason why I used a chair in the first place, and wanted to continue using a chair, was that I feel insecure on ladders. They always seem to wobble and you need someone there to hold them.) Before my reprimand I had felt perfectly confident and at ease standing on a chair. Thoughts of accidents just didn’t enter my mind. This time, however, when I stood on the chair I became extremely tense and nervous to the extent that I became frightened that I actually WOULD fall off and break a leg. It was this unexpected and disabling fear that shocked and disturbed me. My legs felt wobbly. The chair felt unstable (whereas before it had felt very sturdy and safe). Instead of stepping down off the chair with ease, I clambered off the chair in the most awkward fashion, looking for handholds to stop myself falling. For my own benefit, I knew I had to steel myself, ignore thoughts of falling, climb on the chair again and just get on with the job – which I eventually did.
Clearly the warning I had received earlier from the health and safety officer had had much more effect than I at first realised. I had, in fact, privately dismissed his warning, but even so, it had obviously wormed its way into my mind and in so doing, far from preventing an accident, was more likely to cause one.
Actually, his advice was not, in fact, based on a concern for my safety, but on a concern for insurance consequences, and the truth is that he was actually putting me at greater risk because a chair was, in fact, the safer option under the circumstances.
To this day, I still feel nervous standing on a chair because that warning is still at the back of my mind. I ignore it, but I am aware that it still makes me tense and thus not only more likely to fall, but also more likely to hurt myself if I do. Could it be the case, therefore, that so-called “health and safety” actually causes more accidents than it prevents as well as causing psychological damage?