More mis-selling among high street banks

Scandal over fee-charging accounts lower trust, again.

The PPI mis-selling scandal has threatened to engulf the packaged account offerings of the UK’s high street banks.

In February of 2012 it was reported that the fee-charging account market in the UK was booming, worth nearly £2bn and rising. With regulation on the up and a low interest margin rate adding pressure to an industry facing crisis after crisis, banks turned to packaged accounts as a source of regular, easy cash.

Unfortunately they may have taken to them with a little too much enthusiasm, with banks being accused of signing up people who have no use, and may not even be eligible, for the features of their packaged accounts.

Amid claims of aggressive sales practises Lloyds TSB pulled their packaged accounts from sale in their stores and over the phone from the 1 January 2013. The AVAs are still available for customers to sign up to online, far removed from pushy sales staff.

According to Lloyds the reason for removal of their bundled accounts from sale in-store is that they wish to “harmonise the way we sell bundled accounts across all brands within Lloyds Banking Group, to align the sales process with that currently used within Halifax.”

Halifax continues to offer its packaged account while the sales process is “harmonised” across the group.

A December 2012 Which? investigation of more than 500 front line bank staff showed that there is still high pressure to make sales in Lloyds, Barclays, RBS, HSBC and Santander.

Over half (65 per cent) of bank staff in sales roles and have sales targets say there is now more pressure than ever to meet the goals set for them.

The report showed that mis-selling of products is rampant in all of the big five high street banks. Nearly 50 per cent of staff in sales know someone at the bank who has mis-sold a product in order to meet their targets and 40 per cent say their targets encourage employees try and get the sale when it's not appropriate.

Metro Bank, which turns three in March, removed their packaged account offering in December 2012. Metro Bank Plus was pulled because the fledgling bank “considers its market proposition on an ongoing basis to ensure that it gives the best value to its customers.” Meaning the packaged account was not giving value to customers because no one who bought it (most commonly, it seems, suggestible little old ladies) could use the features.

Santander, who also fled from packaged accounts before the mis-selling scandal consumes them, ditched their packaged accounts in March 2012 in favour of the “simplified” 123 Account. Despite this being a paid current account with bundled features, Santander maintains it does not count as a packaged account.

The ongoing mis-selling scandals are a result of banks who have not yet adjusted to life post-2008 financial crash. Banks who believed the good times and endless credit would never end and that people would happily pay out £10 a month for products they were unlikely or unable to use.

While the mis-selling of packaged accounts won’t bring down the economy, it will only further peoples belief that banks are not your friend and are not to be trusted.

Photograph: Getty Images

Billy Bambrough writes for Retail Banker International at VRL financial news.
 

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Why hasn’t British Asian entertainment built on the Goodness Gracious Me golden age?

It is 20 years since the original radio series of Goodness Gracious Me aired. Over two decades, the UK media portrayal of Asians hasn’t used its success to evolve.

Save for a handful of special one-off episodes, Goodness Gracious Me hasn’t occupied a primetime TV slot for nearly two decades. Yet still it remains the measuring stick for British Asian comedy.

The sketch show, which transitioned seamlessly from radio to screen (it started as a BBC Radio 4 series in 1996), has stood the test of time and is as much a staple of modern British Asian culture as Tupperware or turning up an hour late.

What Goodness Gracious Me did so expertly was to take a set of serious issues facing first, second and now, I suppose, third generation migrants, and turn them on their heads. 

In making light of the pressures of academic expectation or family drama, Goodness Gracious Me wasn’t playing down the poignancy of such concerns; it was raising awareness and combatting their uglier side with humour.

It offered resonance and reassurance in equal measure; it was ok to have an embarrassing uncle who insisted he could get you anything much cheaper, including a new kidney, because other people like you did too.

That Goodness Gracious Me was broadcast on a mainstream channel was also a victory for minorities; it made us feel integrated and, perhaps more importantly, accepted. Against the backdrop of Brexit, what wouldn’t we give for that treatment now?

Really, though, the jewel in Goodness Gracious Me’s crown was its willingness to recognise diversity within diversity. It is a relic of a departed era when discourse on TV around Asians was different, when the broad church of that term was truly represented, rather than reduced to one catchall perception of British Muslims.

Goodness Gracious Me offered insight into the experiences and idiosyncrasies – religious or otherwise – of Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Sri Lankans and even English people. It’s what made it so accessible and, in answering why subsequent programmes have failed to reach similar heights, this is a good starting point.

Without the flexible sketch format, the modern Asian sitcom Citizen Khan has struggled to cover multiple topics, and, by being specifically about a Muslim family, it leaves many non-Muslim Asians wondering: where’s ours?

I hasten to add that I feel plenty of sympathy for the British Muslim community, hounded by tabloid headlines that attack their faith, but it would be disingenuous to suggest that non-Muslim Asians are sitting pretty in 2016 and don’t need a similar level of support in terms of positive public perception.

The current volume of British Asian media products is fairly good. The BBC has its dedicated network, The Good Immigrant essay collection was one of the outstanding reads of the year, and we still have champions of comedy in Romesh Ranganathan and Nish Kumar.

But I think ultimately it comes down to the broadness of appeal, rather than the quantity of products. Goodness Gracious Me was not only able to engage the full spectrum of British Asia; it transcended its target audience and was on terrestrial TV.

The British Asian media on offer now is up against it, released as the country’s attitude towards foreigners completes a full circle back to the same suspicion my grandfather encountered in the Sixties.

Fewer outlets are willing to explore the stretch of what it means to be Asian, either by denying it due consideration in mainstream shows or by peddling their own monolithic observations. The BBC Asian Network, for example, is laudable in its existence, but does little to engage the young Asians who aren’t into techno spliced with Bhangra.

The mainstream representations of Asians in Western film and television that are commissioned, meanwhile, are irritatingly limited and sometimes inaccurate. In an article for the Guardian last year, Sara Abassi lamented the disproportionate appetite for “gritty post-9/11 films about conservative Pakistani families”, and that the researchers of American series Homeland failed to realise that the national language of Pakistan isn’t Arabic.

When I interviewed the actor Himesh Patel for the No Country for Brown Men podcast, he suggested that the answer to re-establishing Asians in mainstream media, both here and in America, was three-fold. The first challenge to overcome was for outlets to acknowledge that not all Asians fit the same religious or cultural profile; the second was to be open to placing Asians in non-Asian specific products to better reflect their presence in society.

Patel, who is best known for his portrayal of Tamwar Masood in the soap opera EastEnders, made his third recommendation based on this role. He felt that characters should be written with only their personality in mind, making the ethnicity of the actor who plays them incidental. Tamwar’s awkwardness but underlying kindness, Patel said, was what defined him – not his skin colour.

Goodness Gracious Me, though a primarily Asian show and a comedy at that, actually taught some salient lessons about representation. It succeeded in providing a window into a multiplicity of cultures, but at the same time wasn’t a total slave to the politics of identity – several of the 100-plus characters needn’t have been Asian at all. It was reflexive to the times we lived in and a perfect advertisement for empathy. That is why we still talk about it today.

Rohan Banerjee is a Special Projects Writer at the New Statesman. He co-hosts the No Country For Brown Men podcast.