A comment by Jennie Fitzkee on one of my ambulance posts reminded me about my medal. When you work in the Ambulance Service in the UK, which is part of the NHS, you receive a medal after twenty years of service. The following conditions must be fulfilled, to receive it.
Operational staff who reach their 20-year milestone with the Ambulance Service are awarded a Queen’s Ambulance Service (Emergency Duties) Long Service & Good Conduct Medal provided they have completed 20 years’ service, with at least seven years on A&E duties, and hold a clean disciplinary record.
During my service as an EMT, we had the long-running National Ambulance Strike, which I actively participated in. As a result, the London Ambulance Service decided to deduct the six months we were on strike from our service, meaning we had to complete more than twenty years to receive one. (I know, spiteful…) Most of us regarded the medal with some cynicism. If you stayed in the job long enough, you got one, whatever your actual operational experiences might have been.
So some staff worked flat out every day in busy areas, doing all sorts of dangerous and difficult jobs, whilst those in the outer suburbs had a comparatively easy life. But everyone got the same medal. It became known as the ‘Turning Up Medal’, as all it really signified was that you had shown up every day, for at least twenty years.
Then there were always delays in the presentations, as they had to accumulate enough eligible staff to make the cost of the occasion worthwhile. So by the time I had completed almost twenty-two years of service, I had still not received one. Then I decided to leave, and work for the Metropolitan Police. I gave up all hope of ever getting my medal, which I only really wanted so that my Mum could accompany me to the presentation ceremony.
Almost a year after I had left, I received a letter telling me that I could attend the medal ceremony, and bring two guests. However, as I was no longer employed by them, I would not be granted the benefit of wearing the dress uniform that everyone else would wear to the occasion. I wanted my elderly Mum to be able to see me get it, so I agreed to go anyway, wearing a conventional suit and tie.
Once all the recipients had been presented with their medals, we were allowed to retire to the rear balcony, where drinks and snacks were served. That place has an impressive view of the ancient Abbey. My Mum made the evening, by looking across at the most famous church in Britain, and declaring, “I’ve seen that church before”. (Failing to recognise it as Westminster Abbey) She then sipped her tea, and wrinkling up her nose, she remarked loudly, “This is as weak as water, and tastes like cat’s pee”.
But I got my medal, and Julie and my Mum were there to see it presented.
It now rests in its box, in a drawer somewhere. I have nobody to leave it to, so will probably give it to a museum one day.