Bankers take note: saying sorry can pay dividends

Why is it so difficult for bankers to say sorry? On the Today programme on Friday even John Humphrys lamented the fact that no one in the City can admit fault and utter the "s" word.

Happily, the mea culpa culture is not totally dead. Take my recent trip up the Edgware Road to the Jemca Toyota garage. Back in July they had serviced the car and, unknown to me, had forgotten to replace the oil cap.

All summer oil sloshed over the engine, and addressing the toxic smell languished on my to-do list well into September until my husband refused to get in the car any more. It took the RAC man to confirm Toyota's error, and he urged me to get the engine cleaned for safety reasons.

I groaned. Asking for my money back or demanding a better service is something at which I'm utterly hopeless. Only the thought of incinerating myself and the children in my now mobile Molotov cocktail forced me to call Jemca. Three months had passed and they only had my word that they had caused the mess I'd be fobbed off for sure.

Yet the man on the phone clearly believed the customer is king. Would I bring it in the next day? And would I wait a further 10 minutes while the rest of the car was valet cleaned? Sarge the technician handed back the keys with a final apology and a big smile.

Buoyed by my success, I returned home to tackle the John Lewis £15 broken sieve. Only eight months old but now useless because of its detached arm, it gave me a flicker of annoyance every time I saw it reclining in the pots and pans cupboard. I got into the John Lewis website, hit "returns procedure" and read the words every disappointed customer longs for: "We will arrange for the courier to come and collect the product free of charge." Poor John Lewis might be taking a credit crunch beating but it hasn't forgotten who pays its bills.

More surprising was my husband's recent dealing with the American luggage company Tumi, which delivered a new bag with few questions after his five-year-old suitcase began to fray.

The retail industry may well be customer savvy but the building trade remains woeful at admitting mistakes. Last year we hired a damp-proofing company to do some work and on the day they left the electrics imploded. (Yes, Mr Kenwood, you know who you are). Their response was aggressive, rude and uninterested.

And yet even children know the value of an apology. When I recently demanded: "Who's squeezed the whole tube of toothpaste into the bath?", my six-year-old daughter raised her hand and squeaked "Me!" followed quickly by "at least I was honest!"

For once she wasn't put on the stairs. It's a lesson bankers, and a lot of London businesses, have yet to learn.