My father was a wonderful person, the best of all men in fact, but he disapproved of swearing.
His least favourite cuss words were those that used the Lords name in vain. I well remember him expressing his displeasure once, in his mild mannered way, when he overheard me singing the title song of the Andrew Lloyd Webber musical Jesus Christ Superstar.
Nowadays it’s my husband who doesn’t like swearing, mostly as a sign of a weak and lazy mind I think. Personally I quite like it, but there is a time and a place. Muttering profanities under my breath during a particularly difficult yoga exercise in a class last week would be a good example of inappropriate use. Similarly, one must be cautious in the workplace. This sign is up in our theatre control room.
It’s probably good advice, in spite of the temptation when things get a little overwhelming as they can do in our job. I was duty anaesthetist yesterday, sharing the theatre control room (AKA “the fishbowl “) with the acute coordinator nurse, the theatre flow manager and an admin person (I’ve probably got those work titles wrong but they are important, capable and very nice people). At our first meeting of the day at 8 am, we resolved not to swear all day, and that lasted right up until the label printer malfunctioned late morning. With a very positive, can-do attitude, two of my office mates took it apart and quickly identified the problem. As it turns out, it would probably have been sensible to make a note of how all the separate components fit together before dismantling it. The final result certainly looked the part but sadly didn’t work and we were still waiting on an urgent IT house call when I left for home at 5:30. Bugger.
