Herald Opinion: In a complicated world, simplicity still has a value all of its own

On Saturday last the children in my school made their First Holy Communion. Like the old Ronseal add, it did exactly what it said on the tin. They received Holy Communion for the first time in their lives. For all of them it was a big occasion, and rightly so, as they had put a huge effort into preparing for the day and making their parents and teacher proud. They succeeded.

There was something refreshingly simple about the whole occasion. The children knew what the day was about. The families knew what the day was about. There were no hidden clauses, no small print, no “terms and conditions apply.” It was honest, straightforward and meaningful. Perhaps that is why people still value days like First Communion so much. In a complicated world, simplicity still has a value all of its own.

I was driving home from Elphin afterwards, enjoying the fine weather — proper Holy Communion weather. The roads were busy, people were out and about and there was a real sense that summer had finally decided to make an appearance.

I pulled in at a shop on the way home. Looking into the fridge, I saw a bottle with the price €1.95 displayed below it. Ideal, I thought. I had a €2 coin in my pocket.

Up I went to the till and offered my bottle.

“Any fuel?” came the question.

“No,” I replied.

The bottle was scanned and €2.10 flashed up on the till.

“What? It said €1.95 on the shelf.” “Yes, but the deposit makes it €2.10.” And there it was — modern life in one small transaction. I had to break a twenty for the extra 15 cent. Why couldn’t it simply do what it said on the tin?

That seems to be the way of so many things nowadays. They are rarely what they first appear to be. You order something and see a price that sounds reasonable, only to discover at the very end that VAT is extra. Suddenly the bargain isn’t quite the bargain anymore. Why not simply quote the full price from the start and spare everyone the performance?

Then there’s the mobile phone contract. Most of us sign up believing we’ve secured a great deal. Everything is grand for six or seven months and then, without warning, the bill jumps. It turns out the attractive price was only an “introductory offer,” quietly disappearing into the night while annual increases also slip in unnoticed. Somewhere along the way, we apparently agreed to all of it.

Not me. I won’t touch my current phone contract because it’s too good. Unlimited calls, texts and broadband for less than €20 a month. The man who sorted that deal for me has since gone to his eternal reward, but I still remember his advice clearly: “Don’t agree to any changes because the cost will fly up.” He wasn’t wrong.

Loyalty doesn’t seem to count for much anymore either. Renew your car insurance without shopping around and there’s a fair chance you’ll pay more than someone joining the company for the very first time. For years we were told loyalty mattered, that staying with a business would be rewarded. Instead, loyalty now often feels like a penalty charge for people too busy or too trusting to move elsewhere.

Even supermarkets have become complicated. You walk in and see one price on the shelf, another if you have the app, another if you scan your card and perhaps another again depending on what day of the week it is. Buying groceries used to involve a basket and a few pound notes. Now it feels like you need a diploma in retail strategy just to figure out whether you’re actually saving money.

Airlines perfected the art years ago. A flight is advertised for next to nothing but by the time you add a bag, choose a seat and pay the mysterious charge that appears at the final screen, you begin to wonder if hiring a private jet might have been the simpler option.

Modern life increasingly feels like that bottle in the fridge. The first price is rarely the final price. There is nearly always another fee, another condition or another catch waiting around the corner.

And perhaps that is why occasions like First Communion still strike such a chord with people. They remain wonderfully straightforward. The children arrived excited, prepared and innocent. They knew exactly what the occasion meant. Their families did too.

For one day at least, there was no hidden charge attached.