IT'S not easy being an exchange-rate bore. It takes effort. It takes dedication. Most of all, it requires an almost superhuman ability to ignore the fact that you're sending your friends into a state of numbed stupefaction by constantly going on about the differential between sterling and the euro and how much more things cost here than in the North or across the water.
ilisI've been obsessed by the subject for years, grabbing random passers-by like some religious zealot and forcing them to look at the price tag on various items so that they'd understand, the trusting fools, how much they were being ripped off. Suddenly, as sterling falls dramatically and heads inevitably towards parity with the euro, it's as if the scales have fallen off Irish bargain hunters' eyes and they're seeing the light at last.
If Heaven rejoices more over one sinner who repenteth than over 99 of the righteous, then the Church of Careful Shoppers must be one happy place right now, because those who strayed from the penny-saving path are flocking back to it in droves.
Or flocking North, at any rate, as Newry becomes the new Grafton Street, and the old Grafton Street starts to resemble the retail equivalent of a ghost town.
It's a painful process of re- education, because it's going to mean massive job losses. In the current economic climate, every euro sent out of the country is like one bullet donated to the enemy during a war. But it's a necessary process. It had to come. In the end, we might even be glad that it did, because economic stability can't be built on conjuring with numbers and basically seeing what you can get away with charging, with no thought for the customer -- which is the way prices have been set in this country for far too long.
Why this wasn't a live issue a lot sooner is a total mystery to me. Maybe I was always conscious of the injustice of it because I come from the North, where prices in the Republic have long been the stuff of horrified legend.
One of my earliest memories as a child is of heading off for the summer holidays from Belfast to Donegal with a small car laden down with two adults, six children, a dog, a clatter of puppies, suitcases packed with all the clothes, bedding and towels we needed for the duration, plus sufficient food to last because there was no way we were paying massively over the odds for the exact same stuff across the border.
We probably weren't much use to the struggling economy of Donegal, and the local shopkeepers may have been sticking pins into our effigies by the time we left, but at least it meant we had a good holiday. Things improved over the years, but it was still obvious, shopping in both jurisdictions, where the money went further.
Unless they lived along the border, however, most Irish shoppers either didn't seem to know, or, understandably enough, didn't want to take the risk of being blown to kingdom come by those jolly ragamuffins in balaclavas just on the off chance of saving a few punts.
Then came peace. Ulster was no longer such a foreign country. Many made their first tentative trips across the border and liked what they saw at the tills. Shopping in Belfast was still a minority sport, but word got around, people knew there were bargains to be had.
The launch of the euro accentuated the process, as retailers down South started whacking huge increases on to the price of goods to reflect an exchange rate which had more to do with Alice in Wonderland than the Central Bank. The exchange rate was what they wanted it to be, not what it actually was. They simply hoped nobody noticed, or cared enough to do anything about it.
And, a lot of the time, people didn't. Oh, they moaned a bit about the cost of living when they came back from summer holidays in Europe, where they had finally been able to make direct price comparisons, but it was quickly forgotten.
That was the bit which puzzled me. Someone suggested to me that it was because Irish people had no money for so long that, when they did get it, they just spent, spent, spent and never looked at the price tag. There was a cultural pride in being able to afford stuff which had hitherto been unattainable, so nobody wanted to let the side down by kicking up a fuss about a few euro here or there. And maybe that does partly explain it.
But it does seem eerily symbolic of the slowness with which Ireland in general has come to realise the depth of the economic crisis facing it, as complacency gave way almost overnight to blind panic.
And even now, despite growing anger among shoppers, many retailers are weirdly hesitant about facing what's happening. A third of Irish retail jobs may be lost in the coming 12 months, and small businesses are likely to fold at great cost to families and communities alike; this time next year, the high street of every town is going to look very different -- and not for the better. But there's still a reluctance to admit that economic war has broken out and it's time to start digging for victory.
A few high-profile cases aside -- Clery's has been honorably mentioned in the last few weeks -- the savings on offer in the sales have been shockingly half-hearted. Despite claims of huge reductions on offer, an Irish Independent investigation last week still found enormous differences between prices North and South for the same items.
Mosaic, the UK-based chain that owns Oasis, Warehouse and Principles, has become the first to promise to make its prices in Ireland reflect the real exchange rate, but who is following suit? How much money has to head North before stores pull out all the stops to entice it back?
Outside the cities, where most of us still live, the situation is even more pronounced. In one small town I visited, I saw a shop selling Christmas accessories for 20 per cent off in the week before the big day, and now it has them in the sale at 30 per cent off. That's simply not trying. It's clinging on, hoping for that one customer who will buy at a better rate and miraculously save the day. It's like a gambler waiting for the one lucky horse which, at the last gasp, will turn a losing streak into a win. When a discount is offered, it's only done begrudgingly,, and it doesn't leave consumers feeling good at all.
At least in the North they're grateful for every euro.
It takes time for attitudes to change. If you've taken paying customers for granted for years, it's hard to suddenly realise they're your life's blood and without them you'll die.
But this isn't an economy which can wait around for slow learners anymore. If spending money at home is to be preached as the new national duty, then retailers need to appreciate that there's nothing patriotic about ripping off your fellow countryfolk. Duty works both ways.
