Banks and the high street

As our banking behaviour heads online, major job losses will follow

So when was the last time you visited a bank branch? Now, be honest. The chances are that you are popping into your bank branch a lot less frequently than, say, three years ago, let alone 10 years ago.

Need to check your balance? Easy: go online. Pay a bill: ditto. Transfer cash between accounts, set up a direct debit - the answer is the same.

For many customers, the majority of everyday banking transactions can be conducted online or with a call centre or increasingly via smartphones and tablet devices such as the iPad.

This change in consumer behaviour is not yet apparent on the majority of UK High Streets but give it time.

Bank branch closures have been galloping along at a fair rate of knots in the past decade but until now have largely focused on small towns and rural communities.

Almost one-in-five UK bank branches have closed since 2000 with Barclays’ branch network for example down from 2,129 to 1,700; HSBC is down from 1,670 to 1,300 during the same period.

In the next decade, the High Streets of our larger towns will witness a major change in the number of bank branches and in branch design.

A relatively small number of flagship bank branches, vaguely along the lines of Apple Stores, will spring up in the larger cities.

But for the vast majority of us, the typical bank branch will be much smaller in scale, largely self-service with all cash held in ATMs as banks cotton on to a greater use of self-service terminals.

From a design standpoint, the branch will become more like a retail store.

Have you been in a newish branch of HSBC or Barclays recently-you get the picture?

Major job losses to come

Since the banking crisis really gathered pace post Lehman in 2008, job losses have tended to focus in the back office; investment banking roles have also been scaled back.

Staff performing IT and other support roles have been particularly badly hit in the past three years or so at the high street lenders.

Last year alone, HSBC announced plans to axe 30,000 positions around the world.

Lloyds said that it would eliminate 16,800 positions, about 1 in 6 of its total workforce.

Elsewhere, Barclays is dispensing with 3,000 roles and counting and it is the same story at major banks across Europe.

Last year, banking job cuts across Europe topped 70,000.

But job losses at the High street branch level have barely started.

Take RBS. It is one of the most enthusiastic cost cutters in the High Street – all of course part of its masterplan to “rebuild the bank”.

Last year, it managed to lose a mere 500 branch staff, reducing retail banking total employment from 28,200 to 27,700.

There is far worse to come.

If the bank branch is to prosper, the customer experience will have to change.

Virgin Money’s lounge vision, providing a comfortable space for customers to have a coffee, relax, check emails or charge mobile phones, demonstrates how a banking brand can attempt to restore trust, deliver something different and attract customers.

Another high street strategy entirely is being pursued Lloyds TSB, where a new branch design is designed to enhance the role of the bank within the local community.

In a number of its markets – but not yet in the UK - Santander has rolled out Santander Select outlets, upmarket branches providing a level of comfort not normally associated with a humble bank branch.

Nationwide Building Society is also investing with plans to refurbish its entire retail network of 700 outlets over the next two years.

That is about it for good news.

 

Douglas Blakey is the editor of Retail Banker International

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MP Michelle Thomson's full speech on rape at 14: "I am a survivor"

The MP was attacked as a teenager. 

On Thursday, the independent MP for Edinburgh West Michelle Thomson used a debate marking the UN’s International Day for the Elimination of Violence against Women to describe her own experience of rape. Thomson, 51, said she wanted to break the taboo among her generation about speaking about the subject.

MPs listening were visibly moved by the speech, and afterwards Thomson tweeted she was "overwhelmed" by the response. 

Here is her speech in full:

I am going to relay an event that happened to me many years ago. I want to give a very personal perspective to help people, both in this place and outside, understand one element of sexual violence against women.

When I was 14, I was raped. As is common, it was by somebody who was known to me. He had offered to walk me home from a youth event. In those days, everybody walked everywhere - it was quite common. It was early evening. It was not dark. I was wearing— I am imagining and guessing—jeans and a sweatshirt. I knew my way around where I lived - I was very comfortable - and we went a slightly differently way, but I did not think anything of it. He told me that he wanted to show me something in a wooded area. At that point, I must admit that I was alarmed. I did have a warning bell, but I overrode that warning bell because I knew him and, therefore, there was a level of trust in place. To be honest, looking back at that point, I do not think I knew what rape was. It was not something that was talked about. My mother never talked to me about it, and I did not hear other girls or women talking about it.

It was mercifully quick and I remember first of all feeling surprise, then fear, then horror as I realised that I quite simply could not escape, because obviously he was stronger than me. There was no sense, even initially, of any sexual desire from him, which, looking back again, I suppose I find odd. My senses were absolutely numbed, and thinking about it now, 37 years later, I cannot remember hearing anything when I replay it in my mind. As a former professional musician who is very auditory, I find that quite telling. I now understand that your subconscious brain—not your conscious brain—decides on your behalf how you should respond: whether you take flight, whether you fight or whether you freeze. And I froze, I must be honest.

Afterwards I walked home alone. I was crying, I was cold and I was shivering. I now realise, of course, that that was the shock response. I did not tell my mother. I did not tell my father. I did not tell my friends. And I did not tell the police. I bottled it all up inside me. I hoped briefly—and appallingly—that I might be pregnant so that that would force a situation to help me control it. Of course, without support, the capacity and resources that I had within me to process it were very limited.

I was very ashamed. I was ashamed that I had “allowed this to happen to me”. I had a whole range of internal conversations: “I should have known. Why did I go that way? Why did I walk home with him? Why didn’t I understand the danger? I deserved it because I was too this, too that.” I felt that I was spoiled and impure, and I really felt revulsion towards myself.

Of course, I detached from the child that I had been up until then. Although in reality, at the age of 14, that was probably the start of my sexual awakening, at that time, remembering back, sex was “something that men did to women”, and perhaps this incident reinforced that early belief.​
I briefly sought favour elsewhere and I now understand that even a brief period of hypersexuality is about trying to make sense of an incident and reframing the most intimate of acts. My oldest friends, with whom I am still friends, must have sensed a change in me, but because I never told them they did not know of the cause. I allowed myself to drift away from them for quite a few years. Indeed, I found myself taking time off school and staying at home on my own, listening to music and reading and so on.

I did have a boyfriend in the later years of school and he was very supportive when I told him about it, but I could not make sense of my response - and it is my response that gives weight to the event. I carried that guilt, anger, fear, sadness and bitterness for years.

When I got married 12 years later, I felt that I had a duty tell my husband. I wanted him to understand why there was this swaddled kernel of extreme emotion at the very heart of me, which I knew he could sense. But for many years I simply could not say the words without crying—I could not say the words. It was only in my mid-40s that I took some steps to go and get help.

It had a huge effect on me and it fundamentally - and fatally - undermined my self-esteem, my confidence and my sense of self-worth. Despite this, I am blessed in my life: I have been happily married for 25 years. But if this was the effect of one small, albeit significant, event in my life stage, how must it be for those women who are carrying it on a day-by-day basis?

I thought carefully about whether I should speak about this today, and it was people’s intake of breath and the comment, “What? You’re going to talk about this?”, that motivated me to do it, because there is still a taboo about sharing this kind of information. Certainly for people of my generation, it is truly shocking to talk in public about this sort of thing.

As has been said, rape does not just affect the woman; it affects the family as well. Before my mother died early of cancer, I really wanted to tell her, but I could not bring myself to do it. I have a daughter and if something happened to her and she could not share it with me, I would be appalled. It was possibly cowardly, but it was an act of love that meant that I protected my mother.

As an adult, of course I now know that rape is not about sex at all - it is all about power and control, and it is a crime of violence. I still pick up on when the myths of rape are perpetuated form a male perspective: “Surely you could have fought him off. Did you scream loudly enough?” And the suggestion by some men that a woman is giving subtle hints or is making it up is outrageous. Those assumptions put the woman at the heart of cause, when she should be at the heart of effect. A rape happens when a man makes a decision to hurt someone he feels he can control. Rapes happen because of the rapist, not because of the victim.

We women in our society have to stand up for each other. We have to be courageous. We have to call things out and say where things are wrong. We have to support and nurture our sisters as we do with our sons. Like many women of my age, I have on occasion encountered other aggressive actions towards me, both in business and in politics. But one thing that I realise now is that I am not scared and he was. I am not scared. I am not a victim. I am a survivor.

Julia Rampen is the editor of The Staggers, The New Statesman's online rolling politics blog. She was previously deputy editor at Mirror Money Online and has worked as a financial journalist for several trade magazines.