A HAZARD IDENTIFIED IS A RISK REDUCED

The first time I clapped eyes on him I thought; “What a plonker”. From his steel toe capped boots to his red jacket and hardhat with ‘Safety Officer’ scrawled in felt pen, here was officialdom personified. A pair of thick black-rimmed spectacles failed to suppress the deranged look in his eyes, and the white flecks of saliva at the side of his mouth reinforced the impression that we were dealing with a madman.

We went about our business setting up, studiously avoiding catching his eye, like you do with a drunk who’s about to ask you for a favour. Whilst ferrying collectables in from the car we noticed the safety officer in various locations; wandering around the hall, or up on the stage with his ear cupped, as if receiving messages over a short wave transmitter. We heard the snap of his retracting tape measure as he checked the width of the doorways and the aisles between the tables.

There were muffled expletives to my left. A dealer with one of those hinged folding trolleys had just tipped a grand’s worth of collectables over the floor while negotiating the step at the fire escape. Nothing unusual in that, except it usually happens on the way out rather than on the way in.

Another trader with a reputation for building quite high displays using G-clamps and folding shelves was trying to work out how to fit his stock on a backdrop which was noticeably lower than usual. Withering glances towards the safety officer confirmed that he had already had an effect on our normal practises.

It was a fairly quiet swapmeet so after the doors opened I had more time than usual to watch the safety officer in action. Even the public seemed a bit alarmed as he accosted them; “Are you familiar with the concept of stairs Madam? I believe there are five of them.” Toddlers looked on wide-eyed as he squatted down next to them to test the wheel bearings on their buggies.

To my horror he was approaching my stall. It was then that it occurred to me that a large proportion of my stock was designed to fire projectiles of various shapes and sizes, and virtually none of it would pass modern safety regulations. In the end he just gave the paste table a little shove at its weakest point in the middle and watched it wobble. “That doesn’t look very safe” he said, then turned on his heel and went to remonstrate with a late arriving dealer who had boxes strewn from the entrance to his table, thereby blocking several gangways.

Maybe it was the blue nylon rope coiled round his shoulder, or the rubber hoses with brass fittings round his waist. Possibly it was the aerial and the blue light on his hat which rang alarm bells. But the old Setright bus conductor’s ticket issuing machine on his back was the final straw. The penny dropped at last. This was no safety officer, this was a performance artist.

I burst out laughing. Ten years ago it wouldn’t have been so funny, but in the current climate of risk assessment and the nanny state, the safety officer is the natural outcome. With the compensation culture coming over from the United States, we have things like conkers being banned from schools because they might be dangerous. (If I recall correctly, the most dangerous part of playing with conkers is getting a spike through your hand while making the hole for the string.)

I called the safety officer over. “I just wanted to say I appreciate the fine job you’re doing,” I said. “That’s alright sir” he saluted, adding with a hint of petulance, “but I haven’t got time to stand and talk. I’ve got to make sure everything’s safe here.” With that he was off again, peering dubiously at the ham rolls in the cafeteria and tutting about the sharp joiners on the model railway track on sale at the fair.

Later it occurred to me that inside many of us there’s a safety officer trying to get out. All it takes is for an organiser to designate someone for the role and a jobsworth emerges. Incidentally, I hope you’re not slouching while you read this, I understand it can lead to back pain over time.

After the event I happened to pass the sports centre manager. “That safety officer was a hoot,” I said; “Where did you find him?” “Nothing to do with us” he replied, “I thought he was one of your people.” To this day we still don’t know who he was or where he came from, but it has to be said, he did a great job. Not a single accident befell the public during the whole event.

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