No one’s hiding any more as inspectors’ resilience is tested

HIDING behind the couch was a l ways t he be s t option, secreting yourself deep beneath the window so that not even the nosiest of parkers could spot you. It was difficult when everyone was home, hard to find space, but we always managed, united in our determination to defy the authorities.

The letters would come shortly thereafter, addressed to ‘ the householder’. But sure that could be anyone, was far too vague to be taken seriously. So we ignored those. Not even those scary ads could deter us, the ones where the man gained access to the building, caught us in the act, and sent us all to prison.

No, we held firm, reasoning that we didn’t even watch RTÉ, that the only time we went anywhere near it was on the odd occasion they didn’t charge extra to watch the hurling. We had no need for it, no need for the original dramas trying to replicate Love/Hate’s success, no need for the travel shows and their charmless hosts, and certainly no need for the handful of famous Irish people who’ve been appearing on The Late Late Show every year since 2004.

We liked Claire Byrne alright, but not enough to come out of hiding when the man called.

But that was before. We’re not hiding any more. We’re only waiting for the man to call now, sticking our heads out the window every time we hear a car in case it’s him. And by Christ, when he does call, he’s going to get it; we’ ll give him television license.

And we’re not the only ones. With nowhere else to vent their fury over the RTÉ payments scandal, the public have been taking it out on the poor old TV license inspector. Years of fruitless knocking, of peering into windows and seeing mugs of tea, still piping hot, in abandoned sitting-rooms, have been replaced by a new phenomenon. Now everyone is home, and all too willing to discuss the merits of the license.

Such is the level of abuse they’ve been receiving, inspectors have now been offered resilience training to help them cope. Employed by An Post, the hapless emissaries of the state have been subjected to unprecedented levels of aggression on the doorsteps from members of the public unwilling to pay the €160 fee.

Despite these confrontations, convictions for non-payments have risen from 296 in December to 454 in January, with an average of 60 people a day now facing prosecution for not paying their TV licence. This lack of compliance is having a financial impact, with licence-fee revenue dropping by more than €5m in the first three months of this year compared to the same period last year.

There were 195,479 licence sales between January and March compared to 229,490 in the same three months last year. Furthermore, sales have dropped since January when 75,183 were issued, followed by 61,101 licences in February, and 59,195 last month.

Given the number of people outright refusing to pay their license fee, the fear now is that the nation’s already overburdened district courts will be unable to deal with the influx of new criminals.

Sincerely though, can anyone blame these would-be criminals? The people behind the scandal have faded quietly into the background, taking one last expense’s receipt with them, those found culpable displayed have little in the way of remorse, and the broadcaster’s top earners have had their over-inflated salaries merely deflated to the level of surgeon or leader of the country, and still they return to the public, hand out, as if nothing has happened.

It’s enough to make any hide and seek champion become confrontational.

And, of course, it’s the blameless inspectors who get it in the neck, the lads just trying to make a living, get from 9-5 without being strangled by a Cork-man who couldn’t watch the match on GAAGO. Somehow they’re the fall guys, the ones left to deal with all that pent-up frustration, the impotent rage and fury which has been simmering ever since Ryan’s first salary was revealed to the nation.

Instead of the real culprits knocking on the doors, explaining their actions, justifying their behaviour, it’s left for the proles to fight one another while the executive board wonders if they’ ll ever have it so good again. If there had been some accountability, or some suggestion that the money coming out of the pockets of the people of Ireland would be spent wisely, transparently, perhaps everyone would have just stuck to hiding. Not now, not when they’ve adopted a business-as-usual attitude and hoped everyone has just forgotten what’s happened.

While these fines are being dished out and your kindly neighbour is being dragged before the courts, there are ongoing discussions which may or may not end up with the license fee being scrapped all together. Is that being taken into account when the inspectors are sent into the firing-line, is that part of their resilience training?

Perhaps if an organisation which trades on its ability to communicate with the nation put more effort into, say, communicating with the nation, the level of non-compliance wouldn’t be so high. Perhaps if someone apologised for using the people’s money for flip-flops and sushi there might not be such resistance on the doorsteps. People aren’t asking for much, only an excuse to start hiding again.