Practical guidance, tools, and best practice to help care sector leaders manage people, develop staff, navigate compliance, and lead with confidence every day.
The call came at 4.47pm, just as the registered manager was preparing to leave. The voice on the other end was shaking with anger. A daughter said her mother had been left waiting for support, that nobody had returned her messages and that the family had completely lost confidence in the service. Then came the sentence that stayed with the manager long after the call had ended: “You have failed her.”
This is a composite scenario, but it will feel familiar to many care leaders. A complaint may arrive through a carefully written email, a furious telephone call or an accusation made in front of staff. However it is delivered, it can feel intensely personal—particularly when a manager has spent years trying to build a safe, compassionate service.
The professional response is to listen, document and investigate. The human response may be very different. It may be to defend the team, explain the staffing pressures or mentally replay every decision that led to this point. A manager may sound calm during the conversation and still carry the words home.
The manager in our scenario resisted the temptation to correct every detail immediately. She acknowledged that the daughter was distressed, established whether her mother was currently safe and wrote down the concerns as they were described. She explained what would happen next, who would investigate and when the family could expect an update.
That did not mean agreeing that every allegation was accurate. It meant recognising that the family’s experience had been serious enough for them to complain. This distinction matters. Care leaders sometimes fear that showing empathy will be treated as an admission of liability. As a result, their language can become guarded at the exact moment a family needs to feel heard. Phrases such as “I can hear how upsetting this has been” or “I am sorry that this has been your experience” do not prevent a fair investigation. They create enough space for one to begin.
Before ending the call, the manager repeated the main concerns back to the daughter. One care visit had allegedly been late, a change in the person’s condition had not been communicated clearly and two calls to the office had not been returned. The daughter also believed her mother had become frightened about whether anybody would arrive. What began as a broad accusation, that the service had failed had now become a set of questions that could be investigated.
Once the call ended, the manager preserved the relevant records and began establishing a timeline. She reviewed the care plan, visit records, call-monitoring information, daily notes and communication logs. She spoke separately to the staff involved and checked whether any incident, safeguarding or duty of candour processes needed to be considered.
The evidence did not support every part of the complaint. A carer had attended, but the visit had started considerably later than planned. The office had received one of the family’s calls but had not recorded or returned it. A staff member had also noted that the woman appeared unusually confused, yet the concern had not been escalated as clearly or quickly as it should have been.
There was no single dramatic act of neglect. Instead, there had been a series of smaller failures: a late call, weak communication, an incomplete escalation and a family left trying to work out what was happening. For the service, these could easily have looked like separate administrative problems. For the daughter, they had combined into the belief that her mother was no longer safe.
Good complaint investigations look beyond whether a member of staff technically completed a task. They ask what the person receiving care experienced, whether foreseeable risks were managed and whether the service’s systems worked when they were needed.
This can be uncomfortable for managers because it may reveal that a complaint is both exaggerated in places and fundamentally justified. The family may be wrong about one event but right about the wider problem. An investigation does not have to choose between declaring the service faultless and accepting every allegation made against it.
The manager arranged to speak to the daughter again. She explained which parts of the complaint had been upheld, which could not be substantiated and what evidence had informed those conclusions. Most importantly, she apologised clearly for the failings that had occurred.
She did not say, “We are sorry if you felt let down.” She said the visit had been late, the return call had been missed and the escalation process had not worked as it should have. She explained what the service had already changed, including clearer responsibility for returning family calls, additional checks on late visits and a review of escalation expectations with staff.
A meaningful apology does not hide behind process. It identifies what went wrong, recognises the effect on the person and explains what will be different. Families may not agree with every finding, but they should be able to see that their concerns were examined rather than managed away.
Sometimes the investigation will find that the service acted appropriately. Even then, the response should not be dismissive. The manager can explain the evidence, acknowledge why the situation caused concern and consider whether communication could have been better. Being unable to uphold a complaint does not mean there is nothing to learn from it.
By the time the response had been sent, the immediate risk had been addressed and the family relationship had begun to recover. On paper, the complaint was being managed properly. The manager, however, was still thinking about it at midnight.
She wondered whether the daughter would contact the local authority or CQC. She worried about the staff member who had missed the escalation and whether she had failed to supervise the team properly. She felt defensive, guilty and angry in turns. The next morning, she arrived early and began checking records that had no connection to the complaint.
This is the hidden emotional labour of care leadership. Managers are expected to receive distress, anger and sometimes hostility without becoming reactive. They must support the person and family, remain fair to staff, protect evidence, meet regulatory duties and continue running the service. When the formal work is finished, there may be nowhere for their own reaction to go.
A complaint should be taken seriously, but it should not be allowed to become a verdict on the manager’s entire character or career. A service can make a mistake without being uncaring. A manager can hold accountability without accepting responsibility for every factor beyond their control. Equally, resilience should not become a way of avoiding uncomfortable findings.
Managers need somewhere safe to process the experience. That might be supervision with a senior leader, a conversation with a trusted peer or structured time to reflect on what belonged to the service, what belonged to the wider system and what was never within the manager’s control. Confidentiality must be protected, but emotional support should not be treated as an indulgence.
Leaders should also notice when a complaint has pushed them into unhelpful patterns: repeatedly checking emails late at night, avoiding the family, becoming unusually controlling with staff or interpreting every question as a threat. These reactions are understandable, but they can distort decision-making if they go unrecognised.
Complaints can expose serious failings and must never be minimised. They can also reveal where communication, expectations or relationships have broken down before harm occurs. The strongest services do not judge their complaint handling by how quickly a case is closed. They ask whether the person was protected, whether the family received an honest answer, whether staff were treated fairly and whether learning resulted in a visible change.
For the manager in our scenario, the most important lesson was not that every complaint could be prevented. It was that professionalism did not require pretending the words had no emotional impact.
When a family says your service has failed them, the task is to find out whether it did, put right what can be put right and answer with honesty. But once that work is done, the manager also needs permission to stop investigating themselves.
A complaint may reveal a moment when the service fell below its own standards. It should lead to reflection and, where necessary, change. It should not automatically erase every safe visit, every compassionate decision or every occasion on which the manager and their team got care right.
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Posted by:
K Jadon
Editorial Assistant – The Daily Round
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