I wasn’t on shift. I woke to a text from a colleague. Nothing unusual. Who’s been fired. Who’s on the sick again. The latest rumour about changes to the shift pattern. Just another day at Cummins DEP.
But today’s tittle tattle had a distinct Colombian flavour.
A cleaner had found a bag of cocaine stashed in the toilets.
By the time I arrived, a police car was already outside. As I walked in, officers were with Mick Cairns from health and safety. They weren’t exactly subtle. Neither was the mood. Word travels fast. Especially when it’s white and powdery.
The find was never officially announced. No statement. No email. No meeting. Nothing.
Another incident – as is often the way at Cummins – better swept under the carpet than held up to the light.
Had it been a loose cap screw or a missing bottle of hand sanitiser, there’d have been posters and a safety bulletin within hours. But a Class A drug discovery? Silence.
Anything that might reflect poorly, should it escape the carefully controlled building – where press is bought and dissenters dismissed – is quickly buried.
I notice a pattern. A grievance about a senior employee? Under the carpet. Edited documents? Sweep. When Cummins discriminated against me, they postured with capability reviews as a pretext for dismissal, after ignoring my disabilities. HQ either looked the other way or offered fanciful excuses on behalf of the guilty.
Accountability is a foreign concept at Cummins. They’d rather pay a fine than admit wrongdoing – unless they can scapegoat someone vulnerable, like an employee with a disability.
This wasn’t just about a bag of cocaine. It’s a symptom of deeper rot. A culture where no one is held to account and corners get cut.
If they won’t deal with drugs on site, how can they be trusted with quality control, safety, or the truth?
When accountability is selective, safety is the silent casualty.
You learn what matters to a company like Cummins. And what absolutely doesn’t.
Lee Thompson
Founder, The Cummins Accountability Project