A Simple Plan

As manager for a long-term accommodation lodge, I've learnt the hard way not to accept WINZ people in. Although in direct contravention of UN conventions on non-discrimination, I don't give a stuff. It seems fair for the government to gang up on smokers and make them the New Jews, so I suppose it's fair game to discriminate against beneficiaries.

This rule of thumb is not entirely due to the WINZ people themselves, although I've tossed out enough useless shits for not paying their rent or bugging the locals (Although there's a few pages of Terms & Conditions, there are two real rules; pay the rent on time and don't hassle the locals). No, if there's any one reason I'd have to say we leave the WINZers to the competition, it's the government departments' fault.

Wellington is at one end of the Heartland. For many, it is not where they go rather than where they end up. The same goes for Cairns in Oz. Both are the end of the line. Wellington and Northland have the highest unemployment rates in NZ, even after you take account of the sleight-of-hand of in-work payments. I'd also say that Northland and Wellington also have a higher than average number of mental patients. Just because Christchurch has the highest per capita consumption of Prozac, doesn't mean they are the strangest city.

Wellington also has a strong charitable base, in large part to the most excellent works of Suzanne Aubert and latterly Des Britten at Wellington City Mission. In days past, I would have also rated the Sallies. However, their Taranaki St Op Shop has gotten snootier, I've bumped into too many abused people from their care, and they sicced a Bell Gully Buddy on me during Friday drinkies one time (Some sins are unforgivable).

So, combined with the largest social housing stock in the country after Housing NZ, and the country's finest policy analysts living there, Wellington seems perfectly equipped to deal with the unfortunate, unlucky, untrained, un-everything. Wrong. The resources are there. Apart from a few novice philanthropists though, the money is stuck in the logjam of bureaucratic hoops and dramas.

It has been three months since I last had to call the cops, six months since the last emergency response CATT team came round. The threat of Race War has passed, for now, but the chance that someone will go off their meds lingers. Things could be/have been worse, touch wood.

Prospective residents have to fill in an application form declaring any mental or medical problems, as well as criminal convictions. This is not so much for obvious discrimination, as the duty of care entailed in looking after the general welfare of fifty or so people. There are still scars in the concrete from the guy who went mental with a samurai sword a few years back (Why is it always a samurai sword?).

There is no way to check that what they fill in is true. The Privacy Act, which I am a strong supporter of, forbids me from checking whether the prospective tenant is a harmless fruit or a full-on nutjob. Sure, we could get a one-page Privacy Act disclaimer included, but that may freak out the less strange applicants. Criminal convictions are even harder to check on. While the cops are keen to come around for forwarding addresses, they are distinctly cagey about reciprocating. Is that a paroled rapist I've just put in next to the two girls from Masterton?

Then there's the money. There's these Special Needs forms with the supposedly unforgeable hologram that the hard up present at supermarkets for groceries (not including alcohol or tobacco). When I first started my job, I thought you'd treat these cast-iron assurances from WINZ as money in the bank. Wrong. What you see is not necessarily what you get. We have been stung by forms which say $756 and end up with only half that going into the bank some time later. If the government promises you something, don't trust them.

Then there's the WINZ redirections. This is when WINZ take the rent money directly out of their benefit. For the wise ones who know they are bad with their money, this seems the logical step. Unfortunately, as with any bureaucracy, things aren't quite so simple. Rent due in one month is not received until the following month. This is because the WINZ payment must, by law, go through IRD in order to pay the bills. According to Sione from David Benson-Pope's office, such payments are subject to Section 157 of the Tax Administration Act 1994. Peter must pay Paul so Paul can pay Mary one month late.

One alcoholic dirtwad I'll call the Irish Rover (I bet you they don't sing Lilly the Pink in primary schools any more) stopped his payments without telling the then manager. After one too many times of asking me for a corkscrew, I figured what had happened and kicked the deadbeat out and threw his porn and possessions into the wheelie bin.

The random disbursements from the Special Needs forms and WINZ redirections leads to one path; the beneficiaries get into arrears with no way of paying it off. Outski and, preferably, no inski in the first place. The Bullshit Detectors are on full power every time someone wants to move in. Suffice it to say I err on the side of caution. There's only one thing worse than a fuck up, and that's a clusterfuck. Let it be Someone Else's Problem.

In light of the Mighty Mercury Muliaga Matter, there must be a great temptation to Fix All Wrongs with a regulatory magic wand. Already, Jeanette Fitzsimons is suggesting progressive pricing of electricity as if that'll fix things. It's like progressive taxation, but for electricity. Not food, not telephone, just electricity. This is because everyone now has a right to electricity. Oh, bullshit (Jeez, I though I'd turned it off). Mercury has already suspended disconnections indefinitely, meaning that there is now no incentive to pay one's electricity but accumulating debt is OK. Thank you Labour V, we are eternally in your debt.

There is talk of, well, all sorts of things. There are times to be fearful with a light Order Paper. The temptation to ram through populist ill thought-out reactionary legislation may be too strong to ignore. The upshot of which will be that energy suppliers will just front-end the fucker, being more cautious about hooking people up to the grid in the first place through credit control procedures. Far as I know, it still won't be illegal to refuse service. For every well-meaning law, there are a dozen ways to circumvent them. Don't be stupid.

A Mighty Wind

It seems as if everyone is tearing at Mrs Muliaga's corpse, hoping to claim it for whatever agenda they wish to reinforce. If Eye to Eye is anything to go by, Sue Bradford is holding the dead mother up as an example of an SOE model that has lost its way. Matt McCarten waved his deceased brown comrade in the ongoing struggle for solidarity. Lindsay Perigo left Mrs Muliaga alone, preferring to swing Ayn Rand's severed head around like a mace.

The Coal Spy story has been overwhelmed by the perfect media storm of Mrs Muliaga's untimely passing. Due to the timing, or perhaps lazy journalism, the circumstances of the former SOE headline has been unthinkingly transferred onto the latter. Unthinkingly? The Solid Energy spook spoke out and the company were caught in the act. The CEO refuses to admit wrongdoing. Contrast this with Mercury Energy, where no obvious fault has been demonstrated. The visibly shaken CEO has visited the grieving family and handed over $10,000.

What a difference a death makes. Sobbing relatives make better telly than snails and smelly hippies. As her family prepares for Mrs Muliaga's funeral, the media circus is gearing up across the road. The lions are being wheeled from their studios to the tent. The clowns are putting on their sad faces. Judy Bailey will probably be there, as well as the entire front bench of parliament.

The truth will go unmourned. No-one knows what killed the 44-year old mother of four yet. It is getting increasingly unlikely that the oxygen tank had anything to do with it. This straw is the single shred of evidence that the power suppliers had anything to do with the woman's death. This has not prevented widespread outrage from the MSM. Mind you, this is the same MSM who turned David Bain into the Britney Spears of psychotic dorkdom.

The much more plausible cause of death is the complication of various diseases Mrs Muliaga was dying from already:

"Mrs Muliaga was suffering from cardiomyopathy - a weakness in the muscle of the heart brought on by a lack of oxygen being carried to the organ. The illness, lung disease and associated breathing difficulties were related to her obesity. She had been admitted to Middlemore Hospital in April and was discharged on May 11."

This was one very sick woman. She was on her way out. Having the power cut off might have led to her taking a turn for the worse in much the same way as arguing with a loved one, or some other bad storm might. As it was, it was some poor bastard with the procedural discretion of an ant sent to cut the power that will suffer the guilt for the rest of his days. Second-guessing the autopsy report, the family's lawyer has declared that the woman's illness was irrelevant. Any lawyer spotting a client with a massive company admitting guilt would have dollar signs in their eyes.

Surprisingly, Trevor Mallard has held off judgment until more details emerge. He appeared in the Agenda interview with a pained expression that suggested that someone had his balls in a vice. Kudos to the Minister for withstanding the pain on principle.

An absence of facts hasn't stopped the more strident agenda monopolisers from rushing to judgment. You can tell that Matt McCarten wasn't thinking on Eye to Eye because he wasn't stuttering. He just rattled off the standard Oppressed Masses litany in much the same way as Brian Tamaki farts out his sermons. Thank Dagg old school chum James Coleman was on the set to provide some rationality. Yeah, he got shouted down by the They-Are-Blameless Brigade for saying "strumming." Good on him for handling that.

Lest anyone think I'm being a racist cunt for all this, hear this. I know enough of Samoan culture to say that the Muliaga family are blameless. Mrs Muliaga died at home surrounded by her family, which is a better death than many. Her children sang hymns and strummed their guitars, instead of ringing an ambulance and having their Mum hospitalised and medicated, dying in the sterile environs of the hospital. But, from the information at hand, so Mercury Energy et al are blameless too. Neither the contractor nor the company did anything bad. Unfortunate timing yes, bad no.

This post was kindly inspired by Dave Gee blogging this.