The voice on the other end of the phone was obviously elderly. It had that
unmistakable mix of nervousness and irritation. After all, calling an ombudsman
is never an easy thing to do -- it's the last resort.
This was a man who had already been through many battles as a decorated
veteran of the Second World War. But at age 80, it wasn't a war that
finally bent his spirit, but a headline in a local newspaper.
"He'd been disgraced in the Army, Navy and Veterans Club where he
had been a member for 35 years," recalls Gerald Porter, ombudsman for a press
council. "He had been the chair at one time. This was his club. Now he was
drummed out -- barred."
It all came about during a local school board meeting. The man stood up
and asked why the board was paying money to teach Punjabi in the schools,
when funding cutbacks were forcing kids to learn inside portable classrooms.
Outside the board meeting, one of the board trustees labeled the man a racist.
And that's just the word the paper used in the headline.
The elderly man called the paper, but no one would return his calls. That's
when he turned to Porter. With more than 30 years in the newspaper industry,
Porter knew that what the newspaper did was technically acceptable. But the
formal complaint convinced the paper that a brief clarification was in order.
"Once the complaint was launched the paper took notice. It didn't
take notice from him, but it did take notice of the press council. And that's
due process," Porter says. In the end, the man made copies of the paper's
clarification, handed it to the club executive, and was reinstated.
Helping people is what makes Porter enjoy his work so much. "I like working
with people who have been aggrieved and who do have a legitimate beef," he
says. "You help them get the resolution to the problem, a rough justice out
of the system."
That's true as well for Dulcie McCallum, who came to her role as a
government ombudsman with a wide-ranging background.
McCallum spent nine years working as a lawyer and another nine years as
a registered nurse. She has also worked as a flight attendant, perhaps her
best training for the job of ombudsman. McCallum has also lived in small towns
and urban centers.
"I think the legislative committee chose me because I had an incredibly
diverse background." That kind of diversity reflects the job she took on.
The ombudsman's office now oversees complaints regarding 2,800 bodies
in her area -- right down to school districts and universities, water districts
and professional organizations.
"I love the variety of people I get to meet. I have to provide them with
a public service and be committed to lifelong learning."
The challenge in the role is constant. Every new situation looks different.
In one case, McCallum had to rule on a registered nurse whose professional
organization deemed her incompetent. However, within two months of that ruling,
the nurse was diagnosed with a mental disorder. Armed with that information,
the nurse asked for an appeal. Not only did the board refuse to hear the case,
but it refused to give any reasons. That's when McCallum was brought
in.
In the end, the nurse received an interim permit and was able to practice
nursing under supervision while the professional body reviewed her practice.
"It's a continuous challenge to look at new things," McCallum says.
"I write a report and I might be wrong. But I can grow and learn too."
Rather than take the old-fashioned ombudsman view of making a ruling from
on high, McCallum prefers to look to the people she investigates to find a
common solution. Once both sides understand the issue from an objective observer's
view, they can often find a solution that satisfies everyone.
However, being an ombudsman also means knowing when your role isn't
needed.
"I probably have more information on funeral issues than most people,"
says Lisa Carlson, executive director of Funeral and Memorial Societies of
America. "I'm knowledgeable about the industry and its practices, as
well as common consumer concerns. So I can quickly assess whether a complaint
is legitimate or whether the consumer needs some education."
Carlson recalls a case when a consumer complained that the mortician "didn't
do mother's hair the way she always did."
"That isn't grounds to crucify the mortician," she says. "Hairdressing
is only a sideline, and he probably didn't have a good picture to work
from on a stylistic issue that's very different for each individual.
Mother's own hairdresser could have been called or the daughter could
have done it herself."
Perhaps that's the essence of what being an ombudsman is all about.
It's not trying to be an advocate for one side over the other -- it's
about trying to reach a fair solution. The process itself is to unite.
"You're basically helping people find their own solution," says Carlson.
"It's quite magical."