Lemmings do not commit suicide. The little rodents throwing themselves off a cliff is mythical. However, this particular myth is based on actual lemming behaviours.

When the concentration of lemmings becomes too high in one area, a large group migrates and may die in the migration process. The myth of mass lemming suicide provides an irresistible metaphor for human behaviour. Someone who blindly follows a crowd – toward catastrophe – is called a lemming

There are a number of lemmings out there and, if you indulge me, I will tell you about them.

Let’s start with Microsoft Word, the word-processing program. It has been widely used since about 1983. It has been rubbish ever since. When I first used it, I realised that whoever devised it had no idea of how the tabulation stops worked on a typewriter, how word wraps worked and, importantly, what fonts were in common use at the time. In my office, we curse the program for the unexpected alterations it makes to screen text. Paragraph numbering is a nightmare. Text fonts suddenly change to 8 point Arial. Oh and I must mention ‘track changes’. If you switch this on in a document to keep track of what changes occurred in that document, you get default settings which never go away and infest every document you open – such as, when you insert a page break, you get font changes to 72 point with three letters per page.

All in all, it was okay in 1983, but it’s rubbish in 2020. I would pay good money for a word processor which really worked. Okay, I am an old buffer, so perhaps I should learn better. But should I? A word processor should be simple. Like MultiMate was. Like WordPerfect.

If somebody at Microsoft does not see the light and kill and replace Microsoft Word with something better, then somebody else will and Microsoft Word will die an immediate (hopefully painful and lingering) death. And all income from Microsoft Word will end and fall off a cliff.

Let’s move on to banks. Now, the original function of banks was to take deposits, lend money, charge and pay interest and allow cash withdrawals. Boy, has it changed. I have spent a significant part of my life in bank queues. My local branch has steadily reduced its staffing to the point that there is no manager and no teller services. “You can do it online,” they say. “Phone our helpline,” they say. This is a ghastly form of ringfencing in which you log on to the website and nothing appears that is of assistance, but a note informs you that, for further help, you can phone the helpline. Twenty minutes on the phone while a voice encourages you “stay on the line; your call is important to us” and “our call centre is experiencing unusually high volumes of calls”. They tell you to try the online help service and “please call later”.

Hopeless. We need money. We employ casual labour. They do not want EFTs or bitcoins for pay. Money, my larnie. And now with no teller, we can’t get it from our local bank but must drive 10 km to another branch. If we add to this that they will no longer accept cheques, they take three days to process incoming payments (but instantly process outgoing), interest rates on positive balances are minuscule but punitive on debt . . . sooner or later, there will arrive a decent bank that will take deposits, lend money, charge and pay interest and allow cash withdrawals.

When this day of grace arrives, I will decamp in a heartbeat. And my bank and others like it will be like that cartoon character who keeps running, even after he’s gone over the edge of the cliff.

We can learn from this: Are the products you sell still doing a good job, even though times have changed? Do you save money by reducing services you should be providing? Welcome to lemming school.