Trappings of wealth are being stripped away by a shaky world economy and irresponsible personal spending, writes Margaret E. Ward

WHEN I was a child, my mother would dress my little brother for Mass each Sunday. He was the only boy, born unexpectedly when she was 41, and on the Sabbath she trussed him up in blue velvet and linen. My father and I called him Little Lord Fauntleroy and laughed at them both.

One Sunday, age 2.5, our royal child went missing. We followed a trail of short trousers, frilly shirt, jacket, waistcoat, socks, shoes and underpants to find him running naked down the street, shouting “Nudie, nudie, nudie!” The look on his face was one of pure joy. He was free. His days as a dress-up doll were over.

In seven weeks, if I don’t chicken out, I am getting naked too. It’s not a trip to a nudist colony or a topless beach or to perform on a London stage. At dawn on June 21st, the summer solstice, I will join thousands of people to bare all for US photographer Spencer Tunick’s new artwork in Dublin.

Tunick photographs people as part of a landscape or cityscape. If you think of the television commercials featuring thousands of people as skin cells then you get the picture. Similar projects by Tunick have already taken place in the US, Italy, Brazil, Mexico, Spain, Canada, Germany, the Netherlands and France.

Now I’m as self-conscious as the rest about my ageing, flabby body but Tunick’s project strikes me as the perfect symbol for this moment in Ireland’s economic history.

After more than a decade of excess, the trappings of our wealth are being stripped away by a shaky world economy and irresponsible personal spending. We have, it seems, been wearing the emperor’s new clothes.

For those who forget the story, a pretentious emperor who loves clothes hires two “tailors” who promise to make him a fine suit from the most beautiful cloth. The pair say the cloth is invisible to those who are either stupid or unfit for their position. They dress him in their creation and he parades through the town.

During the procession, a child yells: “But he has nothing on!” and the crowd, realising she speaks the truth, howls with laughter. The emperor, however, holds his head high and continues on.
Money is a wonderful thing and making buckets of it can be great fun. However, economic success is an illusion if you can’t actually afford the things you buy. Thousands of us have financed increasingly elaborate lifestyles – five holidays a year, redecorating every two years and new cars every January – by refinancing our homes or putting the cost on credit cards. Keeping up with the Fitzpatricks was the new religion.

This was an easy strategy when property prices were rising and the banks lent to anyone who could sign their name. Of course, this clever plan is now disintegrating as quickly as the cash that funded it.

Many, many people are now struggling financially. Look at their worried faces and at the trend figures. The Central Statistics Office (CSO) says consumers are spending less for the first time in four years. No wonder: the mortgage is increasing but the salaries stay the same. Food and energy are expensive. Home repossessions are up. Prescriptions for anxiety and depression pills are more popular than ever.

Even the future is insecure. Stock prices and pension fund values are way down. Investors who bought into the latest share / property / commodity guru’s scheme have found that the wizard’s magic strategy only works in a rising market.

Abuses of financial trust – solicitors who play musical chairs with other people’s money and banks who fail to protect customer information – are coming to light on the news pages.
Depressed? My advice: get naked. Throw off the shackles of all that stuff. Sell what you don’t need or give it away. Do a physical, mental and spiritual spring clean. If you’re in debt, face up to it and start making arrangements with your lenders. Pull back on the spending.

Collective nudity is liberating. When you get naked, you stop competing. By removing our clothes, we remove our individuality. Our choice of fabric, colour and style are all an expression of who we are but once we remove these adornments, we become more like one another.

The birthday suit is a universal fashion.

Getting back to basics may help us all refocus on what’s real – our family, friends, neighbours and community – and embrace it rather than chasing the latest financial or fashion trend.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

Little boxes on the hillside. Little boxes made of ticky-tacky. Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same.

WHEN I was a girl, my mother told me that good things came in small packages. As the most vertically challenged in my class until I was about 12, this was not of great comfort when people picked me up and spun me around like a doll.

Her motherly advice also had an unexpected side effect – I became obsessed with little boxes. I shook them, turned them upside down and then sideways searching for a mysterious, wonderful prize. What was in there: sweets, flavoured lipstick, money, concert tickets, keys to a car, jewellery?

I realised this week that small packages are not necessarily a good thing. Irish pensions funds, for example, seem to have consumed the bottle marked “Drink me” from Alice in Wonderland. They just keep shrinking and shrinking. Property values are also under the influence of this strange beverage.

Unfortunately, most pension funds are made up of company shares and property. The people who manage the funds and make choices on our behalf have a duty to ensure that their fund’s objectives are met. So, if you are a conservative investor, your fund is probably more heavily invested in lower risk shares with some bonds and cash thrown in.

Getting the right investment mix shouldn’t be too difficult for professional pension fund managers in Ireland because they have an entire world of international shares and funds from which to choose. Strangely, many limit their choices through a slavish devotion to anything that says “Made in Ireland”.

This is a big, big problem for almost anyone with an Irish pension fund. Why? Small stock markets are like rural villages. There are very few people living there, everyone knows your business and the community thrives on gossip, innuendo and scandal. Individuals with power and money play golf together, go to matches, attend parties with their spouses and meet at the same local watering hole. Deals are done face-to-face with people you know.

There’s nothing wrong with that, right? It’s human nature and the way things have been for centuries. The difficulty is that size matters when it comes to investing and your old age savings are at stake.

Irish fund managers’ loyalty to domestic shares is terribly misplaced. The Dublin stock market is tiny and just a few shares determine its overall value. Financial companies dominate the list. Bank stocks represent an incredible 40 per cent of the market’s value. So, if one of these companies experiences a huge surge or a big drop in prices, it disproportionately affects the entire market’s value.

This potential for volatility makes our stock market a risky place to invest a pension.
Even so, a recent publication from Mercer found that many of the big name Irish fund managers held a good percentage of their shares in Irish stocks: AIB Investment Managers managed fund had 14.3 per cent, Irish Life managed fund 14.9 per cent, New Ireland 16.5 per cent, KBC Asset Managers managed fund 17.6 per cent and Bank of Ireland Asset Managers managed fund 17.9 per cent. The Davy Exempt managed fund invested almost a quarter of its entire funds (24.3 per cent) in the Irish stock market.

Maybe they all know something we don’t. Maybe they know something international managers don’t know. In the rest of the euro zone, managers try to invest no more than 1 per cent of their funds on the Irish market due to its high-risk status. Or maybe, the Irish fund managers just know the people who run the companies in which they invest and they’re comfortable with that.

Of course, some of the financial companies own the fund management businesses, so the managers probably know one another really well. Maybe they even eat in the private canteen together and talk about your pension fund or their bonuses.

Almost € 7 billion in pension savings are invested in the Irish stock market. That’s our money. It’s incredibly important to our future. We need that cash when we can no longer work and we’ve run out of time to make more.

Packing such an essential investment into a big box marked “Fragile: Ireland” is probably not a good idea, given the current economic environment. It might be time for our pension fund managers to find profit in more securely constructed little boxes.

I’ll leave the final word to Alice’s creator, Lewis Carroll: “Soon her eye fell on a little glass box that was lying under the table: she opened it and found in it a very small cake, on which the words ‘EAT ME’ were beautifully marked in currants. ‘Well, I’ll eat it,’ said Alice, ‘and if it makes me grow larger, I can reach the key; and if it makes me grow smaller, I can creep under the door; so either way I’ll get into the garden, and I don’t care which happens!’ ”

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

The Dáil Register of Members’ Interests is a bit like the big table McKeith piles high with food regularly eaten by her participants: chips, burgers, fish and chips, pizza and fried Mars bars. It lays out what our TDs have been stuffing their investment portfolios with this year.

McKeith: Okay, let’s see what your politicians’ portfolios have been eating. We studied the members’ interests list and it threw up some very interesting results.

Richard Bruton’s holdings look a bit anaemic. The share price of some of the financials he favours – AIB, Bank of Ireland, Anglo Irish Bank, Irish Life & Permanent – are down sharply. The other stocks that should be fortifying the portfolio – building products companies CRH and Kingspan – are exposed to the property slowdown. I’m afraid that if his shares in food company IAWS don’t fatten him up, he and his father will be forced to graze beef cattle on their 175 acres of farmland in Dunboyne or grow fruit trees in their 50 acres of woodlands in Drumree, Co Meath.

Minister for Defence Willie O’Dea’s very risky and unproven diet of high minerals, no greens, makes his portfolio a ticking time bomb. The nutritional value of his mining shares – Ormond Mining, African Diamonds, Petronet (down 35 per cent this year), West African Diamonds, Petrel Ltd, Persian Gold, Formation Group, and Pan Andean Ltd – is questionable. Failure to eat even a little bit of the green agenda, by binning some mining shares, might be very dangerous to his portfolio’s health.

He has one week to renounce his Wild West investment methodology. If I don’t see any changes to his asset mix, I’ll be forced to send him off to my balanced portfolio boot camp.

Fine Gael TD Frank Feighan is finishing his first week in the programme. He’s on a restricted diet that does not allowed the conspicuous consumption of oil or gold. The Roscommon-South Leitrim representative was so addicted to his 13 different mining shares that I thought it best for him to go cold turkey.

However, I was glad to see that, unlike Mr O’Dea, he likes other types of assets and shares, too. In addition to land both here and abroad, his diet includes: CNG Travel, Ryanair, Future Internet Technologies, Industrial Enterprises, United Drug, Arena Leisure, Standard Life, Ashtead Group, Blackrock International Land, Third Force, Boundary Capital, Bank of Ireland, AIB, Ladbrokes and Anglo Irish Bank.

Even TDs on a mainly vegetable diet have to be careful about vitamin deficiencies in their portfolio. Ciarán Cuffe of the Green Party is slimming down too quickly. His ethical investment in the Friends First stewardship fund is down 14.12 per cent in the year to date. Losing that percentage of your investment in a year is never a good idea. He’ll need to be vigilant about his asset weightings and consider a more robust supplement formula.

Women tend to be more cautious investors and Deirdre Clune is no exception. Her portfolio diet is limited to properties in Ballsbridge and shares in two investment holding companies. Given her youth, she probably needs to bulk it up with riskier investments such as emerging markets and commodities. She needs to feel the burn: the higher the risk, the higher the potential reward.

Two TDs are good at putting their money where their mouth is. Minister of State for Health Jimmy Devins and Fine Gael’s health spokesman, Dr James Reilly, both have shares in nursing homes. Devins also holds unit shares with Canada Life and an educational investment fund.
Reilly has extensive commercial and residential property holdings in north Co Dublin, an acre in Co Meath, a holiday home in Doonbeg and 150 acres of land in Co Offaly. Their diets are healthy but they need to be more varied in their food choices. Unless they want to end up in those nursing homes at an early age, they’ll need to improve their portfolio’s health by including tasty morsels in international stocks.

Alan Shatter has one of the longest lists but it’s a bit property heavy. He jointly owns a string of properties in Dublin 1, 2, 6, 7 and 12; two in London; and he and his investment buddies have a fondness for the upmarket resort of Naples in Florida. He has a good selection of funds and Irish shares, too.

All in all, your TDs have a healthy approach to investment and acquisition. Unfortunately, they are a bit too dependent on Irish shares and the property market, so this year they’ll be forced to tighten their belts and work up more of a sweat at the office.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

What’s better than watching greenbacks spill from your wallet to pay for designer clothes costing three times as much in Ireland? Yes, it’s truly bargain bliss in Discount America.

Now that the dollar has taken a further dip – down to nearly $1.54 to the euro yesterday – more expensive, longer-lasting items are starting to look very tasty indeed. Americans have lost their way in the deep, dark woods and, while they hunt for the breadcrumbs to lead them home, cash-rich foreigners are snapping up their inexpensive shares and property.

So, how can ordinary shoppers like us learn from the bargain hunters and buy a piece of the American pie? The same principles – finding quality goods for sale at a fraction of their real value – still apply whether you are buying shirts, shoes, currency, stocks or property. Independent research and local knowledge are also key to a successful shopping experience.

Let’s start with budget shopping. If your investment amount is limited – and you think dollars are as cheap as they’re going to get – stock up on a couple of grand now. When the dollar improves against the euro you’ll have bagged yourself a little bargain in the foreign exchange transaction. Just make sure you buy your dollars from a provider offering the lowest rates and charges (or negotiate them downwards) or they’ll be the only ones to profit from the transaction.
Gambling types might like to take a punt on the direction of the dollar – up or down, not sideways – through one of the many Irish spread betting services. If you made the correct bet, the profits are tax-free but if you looked in the wrong direction, you’ll make a loss.

Those of us who prefer investments that feel more tangible, like owning part of a business, might like the US stock market as a bet, or “play”, on the weak currency. This investment choice takes some cash, a willingness to take risks and the patience to invest long term.

Professional stock market watchers are split on whether or not there is any value left in the US market. America has been on sale for quite some time, they say. Think of Manhattan’s Century 21 or Boston’s Filene’s Basement after a sale and you’ll get the picture.

There’s not much left and what remains is badly made, soiled or last year’s fashion.
Even some American commentators, that optimistic breed, are predicting a Doomsday scenario that sees the United States return to a 1970s recession or even – don’t say it out loud – a 1930s depression. Thankfully, the majority believe a depression is unlikely; still, everyone is questioning the speed of an American recovery.

Members of the Apocalypse Now brigade will find the United States a wasted day’s shopping so they’re better off seeking great deals elsewhere.

Believers in a happy ending for the American dream may choose to invest in the market through individual shares or pool their money with others in an American equity fund.

Choosing your shares is the hard part. One Irish analyst I spoke to thinks financial companies might offer some value. Why? Well, banks and other financial companies have been hit hard by the credit crunch (money isn’t as easy to borrow), sub-prime mortgage crisis (people were sold mortgages they couldn’t really afford) and the falling currency (Uncle Sam is a weakling).

Therefore these companies’ share prices are low, their bad news is already out in the public domain and it’s highly unlikely the US’s current situation will last forever.

In general, he said, many well-known American companies are the “best in breed and best in class” so they’ll also do well over time.

Another Irish equity watcher, however, wouldn’t touch the US stock market; he prefers to invest in Asian economies that are linked to the dollar. He thinks there’s more chance of profit in fast-growing Asian economies.

Residential property is the one place that analysts are, almost universally, saying you can pick up an US bargain.

Wouldn’t you love an apartment in Manhattan where you can rest after those shopping sprees? Or a ski resort condo in Lake Tahoe and a summer golf retreat in South Carolina?

Thanks to the currency difference almost anything is possible for foreigners investing in the US – if you have wads of cash, research it yourself, ask loads of questions and choose very, very carefully.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

A small man wearing a bright green shirt and ginger beard with an impish grin motions for the queue to move closer. He pulls out a loudspeaker and says: “Citizens, we are about to start our behind-the-scenes tour of the Government’s decision-making process. During this exciting visit, we’ll follow our leaders to see how they spend our taxes.”

An open-top tram appears. The passengers board and fasten their safety belts. The tram moves forward and the tour guide says: “Please make sure you keep all arms, legs and clothing inside the vehicle. Feeding the politicians’ egos is strictly prohibited as their behaviour can be unpredictable.”

The tram shoots down a dark tunnel and emerges into a brightly lit hallway lined with different-coloured doors. “First, we’ll look in beyond the red door. This is the efficiency testing room. Here, we give all senior public managers an exam to see if they qualify for a raise.”

Fifty people sit at desks with their eyes focused on the front of the room. A blond woman in a black suit with hair fixed in a bun says: “Now, pick up the pen from the desk and start ticking all the boxes on the sheet in front of you.” They scribble away for about 30 seconds until she says:
“Stop. Well done. You’ve all passed the exam! Come to the front of the room and I’ll give you the red stamp for your form. Your pay rise will be reflected in your next salary packet and in your pension as of tomorrow.”

The vehicle moves to the next room. It has a black door with “Finance” etched in gold letters. “Please firmly secure all your bags, wallets and valuables.” An alarm sounds and the door flies opens with a whooshing sound.

Worried-looking employees feed a large black hole in the centre of the room. In go: thick advisory reports; consultants’ inflated bills; gold bars; barrels of oil; bags of money; bloated legal fee notices; hospital budgets; tribunal invoices, constitutional challenge advice and sometimes even people.

A young man taking the tour asks: “What are they doing?” The tour guide responds: “That thing is insatiable. They have to keep feeding it or the country will grind to a halt. Quick, let’s go before we become its next snack. Things are a bit calmer next door.”

A green door swings open to reveal a man applying the finishing touches to his hair. The tour guide says to the visitors: “Welcome to the green room. This is where senior politicians wait to talk to the public about vegetables.”

The room has several bins for separating rubbish. They are marked: organic matter; glass; plastic; soiled newspapers and political make-up. A large compost bin is overflowing with scraps of wasted conversations and half-hearted debates.

“Now we’ll take some questions from the citizen vehicle.” The guide points to a teenager, who asks: “I see you have many receptacles for rubbish. What about Government waste – where does that go?”

The politician says: “Sorry, I don’t understand the question. There is no waste. Everything is recycled.” He picks up a vegetable from a box labelled “organic, Irish, low food miles”.

“Have you seen this lovely cabbage? I planted it in the back garden of the main party leader’s former constituency office. I fed it with compost recycled from this room. The only problem with cabbage grown in this way is that once you eat it, you’re filled with hot air.” He smiles, takes a big bite and waves goodbye as the tram moves on.

The guide becomes animated: “Now it’s time for the final and most important room in the nation – the decision makers’ chamber. I must ask for silence once the door reveals the Government’s sacred inner space.”

Stack upon stack of proposed Bills form columns on either side of the tram as it manoeuvres into the space. Hundreds of chairs fill the rotund room. Most are empty. The occupied ones hold officials with their arms crossed and their heads resting on their chests. They are snoring loudly.

A woman says: “Ah, aren’t they cute?” After a few moments, the tram pulls out of the room. “That concludes today’s visit. We hope you enjoyed your magical, mystery tour.”

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

Disgusting. Can’t you just see them all squirming around and squealing with delight? I’m talking about the rats, not the builders.

Buildings go up, rats are displaced and then they scurry into plain view, perhaps squinting at the sunlight. We pretend these creatures don’t exist until we’re actually confronted by them. Maybe the sight of one makes you want to gag or perhaps you get a little sweaty?

Rats are like that other “R” word we’ve all been avoiding. I’ll say downturn here but you know what I mean. A new economic reality is dawning, no matter how much we cover our eyes and ears and hope for better days. We can walk around the rat, run from it or simply deal with it.

In a lovely piece of timing, yesterday was the beginning of the Chinese New Year. It’s the Year of the Rat.

Since many of us are already suffering from the downturn blues, maybe it’ll do no harm to see if there’s anything to this ancient Eastern calendar. I’m very sceptical, of course, but isn’t it worth a detour if it distracts from the bad economic news coming from the US?

The character traits of each animal in the Chinese calendar’s 12-year cycle are taken very seriously. When possible, families plan births, weddings and the launch of new business ventures during auspicious years.

The good news is that Asian cultures welcome the Year of the Rat. Rats symbolise aggression, wealth, order and charm but also have an association with death, war, pestilence and atrocities.

Children born in a rat year are energetic, adaptable and they easily overcome any obstacles. Those traits will certainly come in handy as we negotiate rising food prices, interest rates and inflation and decreasing property prices this year.

Rat years are considered a time of great opportunity. It’s the time to collect and save, as bleak years are expected to follow. It’s not a year to take chances or unnecessary risks. Speculating and overextending yourself during a rat year can have dire consequences, particularly because rat years are marked by fluctuating prices in the stock market and commodities.

Maybe there is something to this and it’s time to start thinking like a rat. I’m not suggesting you should spread disease, leave shiny trails of dirt from your belly or chew through cables.

In a slowdown, you need to be really savvy – get rid of debt, ensure savings are not gnawed away by inflation and invest steadily and wisely to take advantage of bargain-basement prices.
Rats make the best of what they have, so it’s time to look at lifestyle debts such as credit card bills, overdrafts, personal loans and car loans. They’re getting more expensive so you should pay them off with any savings. There is little point in saving unless the interest on your account is beating the inflation rate.

Investors in a rat year are told to think long term and, considering the price of Irish bank shares lately, that’s really good advice. Most pensions here have some exposure to financial stocks so it’s probably best to avoid a peek at your fund performance unless you’re retiring very soon.

These wily rodents also create opportunities from the things that humans discard. Downturns are a bargain-hunter’s dream. If you have the stomach for it, you’ll find deals on office equipment, homes, cars and boats that have been repossessed.

The best thing about rats is that they sense danger well before others even know there’s a problem. There’s a reason for the proverb: “Rats desert a sinking ship.” If you can, get out of any bad financial situations now or soon it might be too late.

A few words of caution: don’t get too friendly with your inner rat. This is a short-term strategy. A long-term relationship with the rat mentality can lead to serious problems. At university, I knew a Goth girl who regularly came to class with her white pet rat with red eyes. It stayed close to her skin, inside layer upon layer of black shirts. Sometimes, it popped its head out of her shirtsleeve or collar. The girl called herself “Death”. I’m not sure what she called the rat.

The economy is sinking – it’s time to make like a rat and scavenge for value where you can find it.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

It wasn’t her imagination. They were looking at her differently. You’d think she had six heads or something. Siobhán had worked like a dog for the past 15 years. She had received top honours at university and had landed a well-paid job in a private company.

She worked hard but wasn’t promoted like her male colleagues. Three years ago she met John. They fell in love and married last summer. Things were really good. Until today.

When Siobhán came in to work this morning, she told her boss, Tom, and her co-workers that she was four months pregnant.

Rather than congratulating her for the new life that was growing within her, Tom almost sneered when he said: “I suppose you’ll be wanting maternity leave?”

Co-workers were quick to congratulate her. By the afternoon, however, the discussion shifted to who would take up her workload and how long she planned to take off.

“We’ll miss you around here Siobhán,” they said. Others joked: “Sure, you won’t want to see us again once you have that babbie in your arms.”

Siobhán felt she had done something horribly, deeply wrong. Had she betrayed her boss by becoming pregnant? Why was she suddenly invisible to her co-workers? Who was she now?

Like many women, Siobhán was shocked to discover that, once she became pregnant, she became a second-class citizen in the workplace. Later on, she may also discover her status is downgraded in her relationship, in society and in the eyes of the Government.

Someone forgot to pass her the pink card that says: “Warning: use your womb, lose your rights. PS You are now financially vulnerable for the rest of your life.”

Eddie Hobbs’s recent statement about children depth- charging a woman’s career actually understates a much larger dilemma faced by women today.

Society automatically assumes that women shoulder the caring responsibilities in the family, rather than share them with their partner, and this has a significant impact on women’s daily lives.

The persistent “primary carer” stereotype means women of childbearing age are vulnerable to systematic and institutionalised discrimination.

Earlier this week, Niall Crowley of the Equality Authority told me: “Despite 30 years of gender equality legislation, gender continues to be the second-highest area of complaint. The issues relate to promotion, pregnancy-related discrimination, sexual harassment and equal pay. They reflect an undervaluing of women.”

The majority of women who face discrimination do not complain. They just get angry and then get on with it.

Women are outperforming men academically and participating in the workplace more than before. Yet women aged between 20 and 40 don’t generally have the same employment opportunities as men of the same age.

Employers often choose a man over a similarly qualified woman because she may, one day, burden them with maternity leave or resign to bring up her children. If she is hired, promotion is less likely for her than for her male counterpart. On average, she’ll also earn 16 per cent less than a man performing the same job.

When she becomes pregnant, it is assumed that she is no longer interested in her career. If a second child comes along, the boss thinks it’s just a matter of time before she realises her salary barely covers the childcare costs.

Flexible work hours are not readily available at most jobs – except in the Civil Service and large companies – so she’ll probably have to drop the baby to the creche or minder by 7am or 8am and not see them again until 7pm. If that doesn’t push her to resign, a boss who piles on extra work or who bullies her just might.

Where are the husbands and partners in all this? Employers expect men with children to carry on as before and leave the kids – or elderly, disabled relatives – to the women. Many men want to participate more fully in family life but current legislation makes it difficult.

Women are the only ones entitled to paid leave when they have children; paternity leave and parental leave are unpaid.

Crowley said: “Workplace culture is not only hostile to women who are having babies but it’s quite clear that it’s hostile to men who take flexible working arrangements. Men who seek to be carers are supposedly showing disloyalty to the workplace.”

Women who have children are also vulnerable to financial hardship in later years. Obviously, it doesn’t always happen, but marriages can break down, partners might die young, women can get ill. Women who have lost time and earning power in the workplace by raising children may be left in poverty.

Am I the only one who finds this all incredibly creepy and frightening? Do women know how much they are really risking when they have children or have they been blinded by the myth of gender equality?

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

As a concept, insurance is a great way to ensure that the people and things you work hard for – your loved ones, your home and your health – are looked after if something goes wrong. What you may not realise is that, when you need them, many of these policies are worthless, thanks to a long list of exclusions. Exclusions, or restrictions, are events or situations not covered by your insurance policy.

Restrictions are a necessary evil as insurers cannot cover every possible occurrence or they’d quickly go broke. As consumers, we don’t usually examine the exclusions when we’re taking out a policy. But let me tell you the true tale of three insurance policies.

Once upon a time there were three little policies – a life policy, a permanent health insurance (PHI) policy and a home insurance policy.

The life insurance policy came to our attention in early December when a neighbour asked for help. This woman (64), of very modest means, lost her husband during the summer to cancer. She made a claim on his small life insurance policy and hoped it would cover the funeral costs. The insurer refused to pay the claim.

She showed me the barely intelligible, jargon-filled letter and asked me to translate it, and to handle all queries with the company, since she did not understand “insurance-speak”. I agreed.

The individuals handling the claim, and the reasons for its refusal, change with every letter or phone call. Phone calls are not returned. The people in charge of the claim suddenly leave the company. In one case, it took the company more than six weeks to respond to a letter.

At first, the insurer refused to pay because her husband did not report a cold sore he had in his mouth when he was taking out the policy. Next, they claimed he drank more units of alcohol a week than claimed on the form. Where did they get this information? Did they make it up? Are they doctors? Do they follow customers into the pub and record their pints? Does this mean that we’re all excluded from our life policies if we fail to report minor physical changes or if our drinking habits vary?

From what I can tell, the insurance company is accusing a grieving widow of fraud, suggesting her husband was an alcoholic and implying that his cancer was caused by extra units he allegedly drank each week.

It’s four months on from my neighbour’s initial claim and the complaint continues. Every time I see her she looks worried, thinner and the circles under her eyes are darker.

The second policy – permanent health insurance – provides an income when you cannot work over a long period of time due to serious illness or incapacity. We called on this policy when my self-employed auld fella sneezed and slipped a disk two weeks before Christmas.

Although he has been unable to work for three weeks, he is not covered under his PHI because his back problem is a pre-existing condition. That’s fair enough, but the exclusion won’t help us pay the mortgage.

The third policy, home insurance, was needed when the boiler started leaking water a week before Christmas and was diagnosed with a cracked heat exchanger. Although the boiler is only two years old, the insurance company insisted, quite aggressively, that it was not covered under our building insurance as it was wear and tear. We might be able to claim for any water damage. Basically, if we had waited for the thing to explode, we’d be covered.

When both our plumber and the consumer advice section of the Irish Insurance Federation said they thought the boiler problem should be covered, the insurance representative became irate and demanded names and phone numbers. It made me wonder if these reps are on commission for every policy they successfully block from a payout.

Consumers are often bullied and frustrated when they complain. The majority of complaints to the Financial Services Ombudsman involve insurance. Many insurance policies are not transparent. It is almost impossible for the average consumer to know what will, and will not, be covered until they make a claim. We should either stop buying insurance or start insisting on realistic, clearly defined, policy exclusions.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

The downside is that Gracie is really old and inefficient. But she is a classic – a white 1972 Mercedes Benz 280 SE (see below) with a tan leather interior. Think of the elegant vehicle Grace Kelly drove when she was a princess.

Similar cars, in black, often chauffeured the German baddies in second World War films.
Like most classic car owners, I dote on Gracie every chance I get. This Christmas, she’ll be wearing a little wreath with red ribbons on her front grille.

Sadly, my feelings toward her (yes, I know she is just a car!) have started to change. All the talk from environmental evangelist Al Gore and the leaders at the UN climate change summit in Bali is making me feel guilty about driving her.

There’s no doubt that Gracie’s CO2 emissions are contributing to global warming. The majority of scientists now agree that any more than a 2°C increase in average world temperatures by 2020, compared with pre-industrial times, will trigger irreversible climate change.

Most of us would like to do the right thing for Mother Earth, but it’s hard to know what that is exactly. I try my best. Gracie and I only venture out locally. I use the DART, bus and rail network for longer journeys. When time allows, I cycle or walk the kids to school. My daughter is also joining a “walking school bus” a few days a week.

Still, I feel guilty. Should I sell Gracie and buy a hybrid? This is a very expensive option (costing between €23,000 and €85,000), so it definitely isn’t a runner.

What about bio-fuel? Last year, I looked into converting Gracie to bio-fuel, but the experts at www.ecomotion.ie told me that they couldn’t convert petrol engines. I was hoping to have more luck with www.ecocar.ie, whose catchy slogan is: “powered by vegetable oil”.

Most bio-fuel cars actually run on E85, which is 15 per cent vegetable oil and 85 per cent petrol, so I’m not sure by how much I’d really be reducing Gracie’s emissions. That option’s out, too.
How does Gracie really compare with modern SUVs since that’s the car type that everyone – rightly or wrongly – gives out about?

Surprisingly, my baby gets around the same fuel economy (15-20 mpg) as a brand new SUV, even though she was built more than 35 years ago.

Now it’s time to find out about the auld one’s carbon footprint – or the amount of CO2 she contributes to greenhouse gases.

According to the carbon footprint calculator on US website www.terrapass.com, driving Gracie 4,000 miles a year uses 235 gallons and Gracie’s carbon footprint is approximately 4,598lb of carbon dioxide a year.

But wait! I can alleviate my guilt with one simple step; buy a Road Offset product for just $29.95 (€20.40)! This money offsets 6,000lb of carbon dioxide a year by funding projects such as wind farms that reduce carbon emissions.

Since I’m a serious bargain hunter, I quickly realise that I can get the same guilt-free feeling for about €16 from www.plant-a-tree.org. Happy days!

Time for some common sense, folks. Doesn’t it make the most sense – environmentally and financially – to buy a reliable car, maintain it and hold onto it until it stops working?

Most of us in Ireland keep a car for just four years, according to the AA. It takes a huge amount of energy to make a new car and recycle the old one.

Why not just hold on to one efficient car for 12 years rather than buy three cars and sell or scrap two cars over the same period?

I’ll tell you why: we’re under the magical spell of the car registration number. If the Government wants to save us, it should remove the year from the existing car registration system.
Too many people buy new cars in January to “keep up with the Fitzpatricks”.

Green Party TD Ciarán Cuffe agrees and says a start would be asking the Lord Mayor of Dublin to hold on to a car for more than a year.

“We need to look at ways to reduce the environmental impact of what we do as a Government and make better use of the resources we have,” he says.

Greening your car doesn’t have to cost the Earth. It just takes some common sense.

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie

CRM is a very broad term that describes the way some companies manage and analyse customers to improve brand loyalty and to increase corporate profits. Basically, it’s a way of (supposedly) understanding us better so they can come up with more stuff to sell us.

In laboratory conditions – without human beings involved – this approach probably made perfect sense. Maybe a bit like communism and pet rocks made sense before anyone started to use them?

After the introduction of CRM systems, the Irish customer care experience is akin to death by a thousand cuts. Consumers like us are often “managed” by an automated telephone service, an anonymous e-mail address or left fuming over the pretend managers who never respond to our letter of complaint because they don’t exist.

Do we manage our relationship with our local butcher, chemist and newsagent or do we simply have one with them? Badly implemented CRM simply increases the distance between a company and its customers. It’s a bit like your favourite restaurant hiring a statistician to take your dinner reservation.

Under some CRM strategies, customers are rated like cuts of beef. Last week, I was bargain mince. My internet and phone went dead and I reported it to the telecoms company. A few days later, I rang to check the status of the fault. A man answered the phone. He seemed like a normal person, so what followed was a great surprise.

“Hi, I reported a fault on Friday, so I was just wondering about its status.”

He asked for a fault number, which I didn’t have, so I gave him my customer number. “We don’t have access to customer numbers here,” he said.

I was confused since I was fairly certain I had followed all the procedures.

Mental checklist: Called the correct number? Tick.

Pushed all the right buttons for business customers? Tick.

Remained on hold patiently until the phone was answered? Yes.

“Sorry. You don’t have access to my customer number?”

“No, you’re through to the business management centre,” he said.

“What’s that? I’m sorry, but ‘business management centre’ means nothing to me. Do you handle customer service for business customers?”

“Yes, but we don’t have access to the numbers,” he said.

“Okay, so is there some other way you can look it up?”

“Yes. Your circuit reference,” he said.

For the second time, I was dumbfounded. “I don’t know what that is. Where can I find it on my bill?”

He sighs. “You can’t. It is given to you when you sign up.”

“I definitely don’t have it. Is there some other way you can look up the fault?”

“Yes. [ A pause.] Your business premises.”

I assume he means my business address and I give it to him. “That’s residential?”

“No,” I say, “it’s a business account.”

“Look. You’ve rung through to the business management centre and if you want help, you’ll have to call back tomorrow. It opens from 8am to 8pm. No, that’s 8.30am to 8pm. Um. 8am to 5pm. I’m not sure,” he says.

“But I’m a business customer. Why am I paying extra for this plan if I’m not getting the service that goes with it?”

He says: “We service the big corporates, you know, like banks, insurance companies . . .”

“So, if I’m grossing less than €100 million a year, I don’t get any service?”

He says: “No, you’re not paying for it. Obviously.”

The conversation ends fairly abruptly. I’ve just had a chat with someone from Planet CRM.
Companies don’t need scientists or expensive software to tell them what the people buying their products and services really want.

Customer service – from a human being – is probably the only thing that differentiates most service providers. People remember a helpful voice on the end of the phone, the patient person who uses conversational words rather than jargon and the customer service representative who goes the extra mile.

As competition starts taking nibbles out of profit margins, companies should get rid of the computer, pick up the phone and say to us: “Hi, remember me? How can I help?”

Margaret E. Ward is a journalist and director of Clear Ink, the Clear English Specialists. Email: hello@clearink.ie