Kenneth Roy Why is Roseanna’s Catholicism an Issue

Barbara Millar

There is a queer
Scotchman come.
His name is Wilkie

Rear Window

Anne-Marie McManus

23.06.11
No. 421

The Cafe

Please advise Kenneth Roy that the second verse he quotes from the national anthem is not the really offensive verse.      That one contains the line ‘rebellious Scots to crush’, among other other rubbish – although it is claimed that the verse was removed when the anthem was adopted formally.
     Nevertheless, we are left with the remainder of that sentiment which deals with politics, obviously internal, which is somewhat insulting to anyone who disagrees with the Little Britain sentiments of the whole song.

Antony Kozlowski

Whilst I admire Islay McLeod’s judgement of a picture, I question her captions. Her recent picture of a bridge may indeed be of ‘A Forth Bridge’, but is not the
the
The

Peadar Ó Donnghaile

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Oh, for a crack or two

appearing in the

worship of purchase

 

Alison Prince

 

Last week, North Ayrshire Council sent out one of its infinitely cautious news releases, preceded as usual by five paragraphs of warning that nobody unauthorised should get a glimpse of the attachment. The secret item turned out to say that the NAC website now has a facility called Report It, on which complaints can be made about such nuisances as graffiti, fly-tipping and dog fouling.

     The press officer glowingly says that you no longer have to phone the council’s customer contact centre. You merely log in with your name and email address, select a password and validate your account, then get on with your complaint. Still with me? Probably not. A lot of people in North Ayrshire don’t have computers, and even more of us retain an obstinate desire to talk to a real person. But the new process is ‘significantly cheaper than face-to-face or telephone contact as it speeds up the process,’ so that’s what we’ve got.
     It merits a resigned nod. But the statement that followed from council leader David O’Neill (portfolio holder for corporate and strategic services), brought me out in a rash of fury. He said: ‘We are continually looking at ways to improve the customer experience and the services we provide to the people of North Ayrshire’.
     Customer? Since when did I become a customer of my local authority? What is it trying to sell? Why is buying assumed to be a good thing? It’s a very long time since the Uriah Heeps who worked in hotels and shops parroted the assumption that the customer is always right. The customer now is no more than the milch cow that must be kept just about alive so that its flow does not dry up. The term has become deeply insulting, and use of it by the Lord High Panjandrum of North Ayrshire reveals exactly how commercial, patronising and beady-eyed the authority’s approach to people has become.
     Mr O’Neill will not of course see it that way. His assumption will be that addressing people as purchasers touches them at the highest level of their otherwise insignificant existence. Forget Descartes and his long-accepted precept, cogito ergo sum. Cogitation – thinking, in other words – is not of any value now. We are not here to think, but to buy. Emo ergo sum. I purchase, therefore I am.
     Nothing much about me matters as much as my status as an emptor, a buyer. Existence as a citizen, a householder, a student, a worker, parent, child or basic human being has potential nuisance value and thus belongs on the debit sheet. North Ayrshire residents can only achieve some credit by being customers. As such, they can (now more cheaply) communicate requests under the following headings: Fly Tipping, Graffiti, Abandoned Vehicles, Dog Fouling, General Litter, Litter/Dog Bin Full, Replace/Remove/Request Litter/Dog Bin, Recycling Enquiry, Missed Domestic Bin Collection and Request Additional Bin.

 

We, the hapless punters, wonder why we were ever suckered into admiring the sleight of hand, but we don’t know how to stop playing.

     More vital topics such as faults affecting roads and lighting, railings and bridges ‘will be added to the site in the near future’. Those who cogitate may detect something of a priorities problem there, but perhaps the cleansing department is more computer-savvy than traffic. I do not wish to know the reasons, I just want to see a crack or two appearing in the worship of purchase.
     This poisonous philosophical equivalent of AIDS was injected into our psyche during the Thatcher years, when human beings gradually turned into cyphers as part of an economic game that was proposed as a tenable way to run the country. We all know what happened to that. The profitable fun of money-juggling stopped being amusing when the chips hit the deck. We, the hapless punters, wonder why we were ever suckered into admiring the sleight of hand, but we don’t know how to stop playing. However, the signs are there.
     We are seeing the stalwart refusal of Iceland’s tiny population to carry the can for the gambling that inflated their banks to explosion size. We are seeing the Greeks preparing to wreck the EEC rather than abandon their sense of being people rather than statistics. Their historic sense of democracy and the agora still holds.
     In Scotland we do not take easily to such cavalier attitudes, but it is time we began a small resistance. When on a journey, for instance, we should claim the right to be called passengers. Tannoy announcements sending ‘customers’ to their platform or gate reveal that we are valued only because we have bought a ticket. As such, the experience we undergo cannot be calibrated and does not count. If you think the deal looks a bit iffy, buy insurance. (And much good may that do you. In most cases, you’d be better off negotiating with a crocodile.)
     Perhaps I should find one of those button-making outfits and get some made that say, I am not a customer. Worn in the right (or preferably, wrong) place, it might provoke some interesting conversations. Meanwhile, I have duly noted how to Replace/Remove/Request Litter/Dog Bin.

 

Alison Prince is an author and editor in Arran