Six point proof: We are in the poo
Six point proof: We are in the poo
by Duncan Graham
We’re in a recession, but not because Bill English says so.
What would he know? He’s got a six-figure salary and little chance of being downsized. He doesn’t drive a last century Japanese clunker with an expired WOF. Neither does his ‘purchasing adviser’ on $2,000 (plus GST) a day.
Statisticians say unemployment is at five per cent and heading for eight next year. They’re among the 95 per cent with jobs. From their open-plan offices with whispering heat pumps these screen jockeys can’t see the depressed souls staggering through factory gates into the sleet clutching tear-stained envelopes, only their mates’ yachts cruising Port Nicholson.
I haven’t seen these sad folk either; they don’t live on our gorsey Wellington hillside. But I still know the economy is sick, though I don’t trust the two consecutive quarters of negative growth indices cooked on computers from out-of-date figures.
However I do trust my instincts based on what I see and sense. Here’s the DG six-point recession test:
- No more Open Homes to visit. Once as common as sparrows in suburbia, the jolly For Sale signs and jaunty bunting are now as rare as kereru. The mass disappearance of the ubiquitous estate agent (Smoothus talkus) with its distinctive sober-suit plumage should be investigated by DOC. Remnant populations need to be trapped and released on Kapiti Island in the hope that they’ll breed back, though not to the plague numbers of before.
- Friendly bankers. In 2007 we asked for a credit card and were given an unequivocal NO. This was during a stand-up conversation at the counter with a staffer more concerned with her lunch than customers who wanted to deposit, not borrow. Now we have two cards and last week were offered coffee or hot chocolate and seats in a warm office to discuss our plans.
- Hardware hassles. Once it wasn’t worth visiting Mitre 10 or Bunnings at weekends; queuing at the checkouts with the other DIYs took longer than finding a cheap Chinese knick-knack to fix a minor problem. Now the staff outnumber customers and cause delays by asking if they can help.
- Op Shop boom. By contrast with the hardware stores, the Salvos and Vinnies are doing great business, though stock quality has slumped. Two years ago I bought a splendid fault-free $250 jacket for $5 that must have been tried once before being discarded. There were many others. Now the clothes look as worn out as the customers. It’s the same at the garage sales; the cast-offs in Karori are like those in Porirua.
- A good keen builder. Last year we pleaded with a carpenter to do some extra work after he’d finished building our deck. Total disinterest – the jobs were too small to bother uncoiling the power lead for his electric drill. A few days ago he phoned to say he’d like to quote. Seldom has rejection been so sweet.
- The tarnished Golden Mile. A walk from Wellington railway station to Te Papa via Lambton Quay was once a great stroll just to stare at the cruise ship tourists in their funny clothes and enjoy the window displays. Now there are toothy gaps in the shop fronts with TO LET signs and graffiti on the architraves along the most prestigious street in the nation’s capital. And no liners parked at the overstocked Pinus radiata export log wharf.
So how’ll we know when it’s all over? Forget the predictions of a road to recovery. Bill English can’t give us the GPS fix on this track, or tell us whether we’ll need chains and a four-wheel drive. Like Transmission Gully it’s more hot air than highway.
Cheery John Key is the sort of optimist promising a heat wave in Gore when Metservice is forecasting icebergs in Lake Taupo – he and his millionaire mates will be OK, rain or shine. These people think the dole is a senator from Kansas.
Our criminal justice system relies on juries of ordinary knockabout citizens using their life experience, personal observation and common sense to judge guilt or otherwise on the evidence, not the rhetoric of experts.
Let’s apply the same reasoning to the economy. Only when bankers return to being feral and builders treat modest renovation needs with contempt will I know that we’re back to the good old Open Days.