AS a woman of 26, the Budget is little more than a blip on my radar – a vague feeling of unease in the lead-up and a frown and headshake in its aftermath. Having come of age as a tax-paying adult as the crash begun, I've only experienced Budgets accompanied by a sense of impending doom.
Despite the fact that I'm a working woman, I feel far removed from the Budget's implications; almost like it's happening to somebody else.
Property and household taxes don't apply to me, as nobody would dream of giving me a mortgage thanks to my shoddy credit rating.
Buying a house seems like such a foreign concept; I wouldn't be surprised if I continue to rent for the next decade.
Before the recession, I was an unwitting Celtic Tiger cub who prowled Grafton Street with my credit card when I was supposed to be at lectures.
Only subsequently did I realise how much damage my impulse buying was doing to Future Vicki, who now can't get a car loan to save her life.
However, that's probably for the best because quite frankly I can't afford to run one, even without petrol hikes.
I don't have a pension either – it's hard to think even a year ahead, let alone 40.
I'm childless, unmarried and a non-smoker. The only noticeable effect this budget will have on my life? The extra euro on a bottle of wine, which is a pain but won't deter me.
If the calorie content of a glass of white isn't enough to put the women of Ireland off, neither will a few cent more.
I'm part of the generation suspended in an odd kind of limbo, where escape is a popular option. I've chosen to stay put and stick it out, but am now accustomed to the gloom. When (if?) things pick up, I suspect that I'll be distrustful, as I'm now conditioned to be.
A lenient Budget would put the fear of God in me – what if we're not being careful enough?
An early introduction to depths to which we can plummet has instilled caution in my peers. Not necessarily a negative trait, but in stark contrast with the halcyon days of our teens.