What a gang of drunks taught me about assumptions

The pain was excruciating, so much so I was close to tears. Being in agony, I was unable to move and yet if I didn’t there was a good chance of being run over. Racing through my mind was the thought, 'how did I get in to this sorry state?

Last winter I was speaking after dinner in a hotel in Manchester city centre. Because of the snow I thought I wasn’t going to make it to the event; thankfully I did, it was a full house and all went well.

At about 11.00 pm I decide it was time to wend my way home across the Pennines. Out I walk from the hotel reception and as I cross the main road I slip on the ice and badly twist my ankle.

I’m writhing in agony with my suit carrier on top of me. For a moment I’m stunned; I try to stand up... but can’t.

The next thing I hear are three lads, in their early twenties in T-shirts and jeans (apparently the correct dress code for young people on a night out in winter when it’s minus five degrees centigrade!). From what I can see they’re each carrying a barrel of beer with them, not on their backs but in their bellies. At the top of their voices they were singing something which I’m sure they thought were all the right notes but they were definitely not necessarily in the right order.

They see me and my fear of being run over instantly turns to the fear of being robbed, or beaten up, or… worse. A sitting duck has more chance of getting out of this situation.

To my shame, I’m wrong; they’re drunk… but friendly and harmless.

Two of them are doing a very good impression of Neanderthal man, the third one still has the ability to string some words together and enquires, “Ay up mate, are yer awreet?” My mouth is about to say, “I’m fine, I’ve got a bar of chocolate in my back pocket and I’m trying to break it,” but my brain maybe now is not the tie for wisecracks and instead I politely groan, “I’m fine.”

He slurs, “Yer don’t lewk it, we’ll help yer mate, come on lads he’s one ov us.” I’m not sure how he figures I'm 'one of them' as they’re almost naked in T-shirts and jeans and I’m wearing half my wardrobe doing my best to keep warm in the freezing cold.

As they reach me, suddenly one of them slips and knocks the other two over like skittles; now all four of us are in a heap in the middle of the road. I try to get up and help THEM to their feet, but can’t because of the pain. They’re trying to stand up and help me, but can’t because of the ale.

For what seems like hours, but was actually only minutes, I didn’t know if it’s me helping them to get up or them helping me; all I know is we’re all in the middle of the road in danger of being run over.

Spontaneously my new-found friends burst into a chorus of ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’ by Queen. It’s not helpful, as when I manage to get one of them almost to their feet he gets stuck on the part of the song, “mamma mia, mamma mia, mamma mia let me go...” So I do.

Down he falls again.

A rather mature couple walk by and I hear the woman tutting and muttering under her breath, “flippin’ drunks, disgusting!” I feel like shouting after her, “I’m not drunk, honest I’m not drunk,” but what’s the point? You know, I don’t know what hurt most, my ankle, my rear end or my pride.

I don’t know how we do it, but somehow we manage to make it to the pavement.

Being less icy we all manage to stand up and, after wishing me well, they go on their ‘merry’ way.

My ankle still smarting, I manage to make my way to the car and drive home safely.

On reflection, I was grateful to be home, safe in my bed. I was grateful the drunks were friendly; they could have been very nasty. I chuckled at our struggle on the road; if it wasn’t for the possible danger it really was comic. I felt embarrassed that the mature couple thought I was a drunk. At that moment it all became very clear and I realised a lesson we can all use in life and business.

I made an incorrect assumption about the drunks, the elderly couple made an incorrect assumption about me.

How often do we make assumptions that are not helpful? We often mistake assumption for insight and it isn’t. What we think is insight can in fact be blindness to the truth.

For example, how often have you assumed somebody wouldn’t give you something or do something for you? So you didn’t ask. Could that have been a missed opportunity?

How many times have you assumed that something wouldn’t happen so you didn’t do it? Could THAT have been a missed opportunity?

Last week I approached what was a potentially new client to speak at their conference. I had approached them twice before and each time they’d said no. I’d put the date in my diary to call again and when I saw the entry, was about to delete the note assuming they’d reject me again. Instead, I called and they were delighted I’d called and booked me.

Granted, there are times we have to be cautious, but it’s important that we don’t assume anything. We should only work with the facts and make sure the fact are correct, as only the facts can lead to insight, and consequently help us make the best possible decisions.

By the way, if you ever see me struggling to get up in the middle of an icy road then please help me. BUT, if you're tipsy then please trot on by, I'll have enough of my own worries to deal with ;)