by Grainne 

“Trust in banking sector ‘eroded’ ran the headline.  This gem issued from the lips of no less a personage than the Chairman of the Ethics Committee of the association of Compliance Officers in Ireland.  He might just as glibly have announced that Christmas is coming or there’s been a lot of rain lately. 

And to whom do you think he was stating this most obvious of truisms?  Why to a captive audience of some 150 compliance officers from across the banking sector in Ireland.  Make that telling the turkeys that Christmas is coming.  

The sage in question was one Niall Gallagher who soberly told those assembled that they needed to restore trust in financial institutions.  At the risk of stretching the turkey analogy to bursting point that’s like expecting them to embrace their own ceremonial Christmas baking.   Their response was probably to think he should go stuff himself.

In the report of this that I read it’s not mentioned if Mr. Gallagher spelled out exactly why it is that trust has been eroded.   It seems to me that it would be quite important that he did, because they still don’t seem to get it.

They lent too much money to too many people who couldn’t afford to repay it in the boom times and now that we’re bust they’re turning the screws on those hapless people who are either unemployed or have taken pay cuts and are unable to keep up their huge repayments on their negative equity homes.  They lent too much money to hucksters who knew nothing about building but decided to get in on the action to make a quick buck or million as they saw their colleagues do.

These days the banks spend money on costly advertising giving the impression that they are open to lending but ask any businessman with a cashflow problem what kind of response he’s been getting from his local financial institution of long standing and he’ll tell you – a resounding no, leaving the premises feeling lucky not to have been given a kick in the arse to send him on his way for having the temerity to ask.

All this as the captains of the industry walk away with their golden handshakes and huge pensions intact. 

The final straw, if one was needed, was the banks decision not to pass on the ECB’s interest rate cuts to householders.  They laughed in the face of Taoiseach Enda Kenny when he told them they must.  He warned them that if they didn’t pass them on voluntarily, the Government would tell Financial Regulator and Deputy Governor of the Central Bank, Matthew Elderfield to force them to move on interest rates.  He responded with a breathtaking piece of buck-passing, saying today that they don’t want powers to force banks to pass on interest rate cuts to mortgage-holders and other customers.  He said the Central Bank would prefer to address the issue of banks not passing on interest rate cuts as part of his wider regulation of the banking sector.  Oh yeah?  And when might we expect that?  Anytime soon, Mr. Elderfield, now that you are finished imposing punitive lending restrictions on the poor man’s bank – the Credit Unions?

Trust in banking sector eroded?  Destroyed more like, never to be restored.

by Aine

Yesterday saw the launch of the Government’s “Winter Ready” campaign. The initiative is a €15,000 information campaign for householders, businesses and farmers to help us prepare for any inclement weather we might experience this winter. They have decided to spend 23m on salt and new equipment to keep the roads and airports open should we have a repeat of last year’s snow. This despite our favourite weather forecaster, Met Eireann’s Gerard Fleming informing the assembled Government Ministers that “the last two winters were unusual, the previous twenty were mild” and “we have access to monthly projections and there is no indication of severe weather.”  But then hey-ho they have been known to get it spectacularly wrong before!   

So amid dire warnings of a hairshirt budget, 23m euro has mysteriously been found to cover the cost of salt and new equipment. Are you, like me, fascinated by the luck of this Government?  They just keep ‘finding’ money!

Minister Leo Varadkar said that the country is “as prepared as it could be” and that 200,000 tonnes of salt will be in the depots countrywide by the end of the month.  (I have a mental image of Minister Varadkar whistling “let it snow, let it snow, let it snow to the slightly bemused assembled media just after announcing this!)

Alan Shatter, Minister of Justice, Equality and Defence is also the Chairman of the Government Task Force and he said that “a lot of work had been done to improve our resilience.” It would seem that Fine Gael do not want to repeat the mistakes made by our  former Goverment, getting caught out by last year’s winter snow and flooding. Like good boy scouts, they want to be prepared this year.  Very admirable, I’ll concede.  Now today, one day after the launch, I could not get into the website www.winterready.ie (wanted to find out what nuggets of information they were going to share with us) so let’s hope the flooding and snow doesn’t arrive this evening because without such gems on what to do in inclement weather how could I possibly cope?

I have decided in keeping with the austerity measures the Government is foisting upon us, that this winter I will not order an oil re-fill. I will not purchase logs for my wood burner. Oh no, this year I will take myself off to Penney’s and purchase three hoodies, one for myself, hubby and son. Extra large of course, so that we can put loads of layers of clothes on underneath.

I will wear my boots, not forgetting to double up on the socks, from November till March. I will wear a woolly hat and scarf so that only my eyes will be visible. I will buy chains to cover my boots should the snow come and I need to leave the house. I’ll have my shovel at the ready to remove the snow from my drive; I will clear my drains to accommodate large amounts of rainfall. I will confine my diet to only those foods which will warm me from the inside out, soups, stews, etc. Hot toddies at night de rigeur.So while I commend you, Ministers Shatter and Varadkar for your valiant efforts in attempting to keep me mobile, dry, and warm this winter, I’ll be doing my own bit, whatever the weather brings.

by Grainne

It’s said that we shouldn’t ‘sweat the small stuff’, i.e. get annoyed or anxious about small inconsequential things.  I wish I could.  I seem to be genetically predisposed to sweating the small stuff while managing quite well with bigger issues.

I’m good in a crisis, someone to be called upon that’s pretty unflappable, able to react coolly and calmly, capable of taking charge and being competent and measured in my response.  It’s the minor vexations and annoyances I find hard to cope with.

An example is trying to open some types of milk carton. I cannot operate those ring-pull things that seal the spout from which the milk is to pour without getting a shot of milk in the face, in my hair or on my hands.  I hate opening new cartons like that for that very reason.  Why can’t they all have screw tops?

My dislike of automated answering services when I ring some company or service is, I’m sure, shared by many.  Being told “you’re call is important to us, please hold” up to a dozen times while music I don’t like is played over and over, makes me fume.  Worse still is their newish practice of interspersing the muzak with messages directing us to their website where we could find out what we want to or otherwise do all of our business on line, without bothering them.  They don’t say that last bit, granted, but that’s what they mean.  But, like most people, I know my way around websites and if I wanted to I would.  The chances are that my enquiry is something I’m NOT going to be able to get answered by reverting to the web, which is why I’m calling.  

It annoys me when someone in a company I call puts me through to the person or department I’m looking for without saying anything after their initial greeting.   No “certainly, I’ll put you through” or “just a minute”.  Nothing.   I have to assume he/she is going to acede to my request but I don’t know for sure.

My irritation levels go through the roof when I’m driving.  Chief among my pet hates are drivers who brake at every corner, followed closely by those who take a painfully long amount of time to turn into driveways, entrances or side road roads when I’m behind them.   That said, using public transport is also fraught.  I queue for a bus and then, when it comes, the ones that were the last to join the queue manage to elbow past and onto it before me.  Cue much teeth gnashing.  Air travel offers a whole new set of irritations but one of the two foremost that rile me up  is the boarding announcement leading to a stampede towards the boarding gate and down the tunnel.  It’s pointless because people only ever get part-way down before they come to a standstill.  And that’s because of pet airplane travel hate number two, those really annoying individuals who fooster and faff about stowing their luggage in the overhead bins.  The inordinate amount of time this one-step process takes the average air traveller agitates me beyond belief.

It bugs me when I have an appointment for doctor, dentist, consultant, whomever and am not seen on time.  A few minutes wait is ok but beyond that my annoyance levels rise exponentially. 

Bad service generally has the ability to put me in foul humour in short order.  Whether it’s shop assistants chatting to one another and ignoring me or, as happened last week in a store, a staff member insisting on shoving clothing on a rail vigourously down to the end I was looking at something on, to utilities companies with staff who stick to a script and repeat it like a mantra in the face of my pleading to get something put right, it really aggravates me.

My umbrage knows no bounds when confronted by the increasing number of places that demand photographic ID.  And two pieces at that.  And utility bills in my name, proving my address. 

Given that everyday life is rife with opportunities for petty annoyances I run the risk of being in a perpetual snit which is not good for my blood pressure, never mind my equilibrium.  But I have devised a coping mechanism.  I still react with annoyance but it’s tempered with the sure and certain knowledge that whoever it happens to be teeing me off probably has to endure even more vexations than I do.

by Grainne

It’s been a surreal sort of week.  Freak weather caused flash floods that wreaked hundreds of thousands of euro worth of damage to homes, businesses and vehicles.  Worst still, loss of life, with the death of a young Co. Wicklow off-duty Garda involved in doing a good deed at the time, and the tragedy of the woman trapped in her basement flat when floodwaters came in.

The storm that raged for three days abated long enough to let the Presidential still-hopefuls go about their last minute canvassing in a lacklustre campaign that, despite having such a motley crew of candidates, failed to excite much interest at all among the general populace.  Martin McGuiness reinvention as a latter day Dalai Lama didn’t wash, Mary Davis didn’t inspire (her quango fandango may have had something to do with it) and Gay Mitchell should have been deemed the most inappropriately named candidate as he barely cracked a smile for the duration.  Mind you he had little to smile about considering his own party wasn’t giving him much by way of support.  As for Dana, how can one so twee be so irksome?  After his in-again out-again shenanigans like something out of Lanigan’s Ball, the right honourable Senator Norris lost the plot altogether, sounding more and more shrill with each interview he gave.  A bit like a child who’s had too many fizzy drinks and coloured sweets.  It seems that while many were willing to overlook his previous transgressions in writing letters in defence of his former partner, his working while ‘on the sick’ was a step too far for many. Sean Gallagher managed to snatch defeat from the jaws of victory when people discovered the extent to which he was beholden to the pariah that is Fianna Fail.  And so it came to pass that the mighty midget from the Wesht, the poet, philosopher, career politician and cutest of the lot of ‘em, Michael D. trotted out to the big house in the park.

   Meanwhile on the same day the hoi polloi got to vote on cutting judges pay and did so with relish, 80% of those who voted decided the bewigged ones should be earning less.  They followed up with a resounding ‘no’ to the proposed constitutional amendment to give more powers to Oireachtas committees.  More power?  After what we’ve been through?  What were they thinking?

Then there was the totting up error.  As mistakes go, it was a pretty big one.  I mean how do you forget to take 3.6bn into account?  I’ll never feel bad again about not being able to reconcile my bank statement. 

To add to this surreal feeling, that I was somehow living in some kind of zany parallel universe, where life was similar to here but madder, I noticed last Saturday that practically every street in Dublin has Christmas lights up already.  Not lit, I’ll grant you, but up.  Remember this was before Hallowee’n.  And in a year when I’m thinking less and less people will feel able to, or want to, celebrate the festive season.

What next, I thought?  The decision not to burn, not even to slightly singe, the Ango Irish Bank bondholders, that’s what.  At least they have something to celebrate.  Cold comfort for the rest of us.