As Dell and a gaggle of their fellow fairweather multinationals retract their landing gear and blast off into orbit, it behoves us to consider why we are losing these vital economic supports.
There are many obvious answers which we can add to the officially stated reason (of sluttier, cheaper workforces in funkier, sexier countries): these include our feeble transport and broadband infrastructure, our Russian roulette institutions of government, and the psychic discomfort which comes from sharing an island with members of both Westlife and Boyzone.
But look, there's an 800lb gorilla in the corner. A huge, hairy, chest-beating gorilla, riding on the back of an elephant, which is also in the room. And if we're truly to be honest with ourselves about why Dell and co. are leaving, we must look deep into this gorilla's soft, simian eyes and see the sad truth staring back at us. They're leaving because we Irish, despite our legendary cute hoorness and chameleonic facility for absorbing new business skills, remain incapable of mastering that most basic of corporate requirements: showing up on time to meetings.
It's true. Our feelings towards punctuality are much the same as Fungi the dolphin's towards the Heineken Cup, or a TD's to dinner receipts: sorry, don't care, not relevant to me. The clock striking 10am on Monday morning isn't our cue to gasp "Omigod, late for the weekly kick-off!" and dash away in a panic; instead, it's a gentle reminder to shamble to the coffee machine before wandering around asking workmates "Where's the Hasselhoff meeting room again?"
We can't even show up on time to be sacked. Even when our corporate paymasters zip over the Atlantic in their silver spaceships, don their ill-fitting human suits, and summon us together in the plant's biggest conference room for an "information session", we're late. There they stand, wishing they hadn't gorged on all those puppies at breakfast, watching us shuffle warily in the back door, our eyes scanning the room for refreshments. But there are no refreshments here today. Just strategic imperatives.
“Flurgle flurgle floop floop,” they begin, before remembering to activate their earthling translator chips. “Uh, hello everyone. As you know, it’s been a tough year for Evilcorp–” But we're still coming in, hiding behind one another, leaning against the back wall like cornerboys, sniggering and sending text messages.
You know what though? We're right, dammit. After all, meetings are second only to philosophy degrees for wasting valuable years. Yes, we could have shown our Foreign Direct Investor overlords more respect in our timekeeping. But still we can stand proud and say, yeah, of course I'll be late for my own funeral. What's the hurry?