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Scoop
2 days ago
- Business
- Scoop
New Zealand First's Cash Transactions Protection Bill - What It Is And What It Could Do
Explainer - Cash is king, some people say - while others wouldn't be caught dead without their PayWave and Apple Pay. But a new members' bill put forward by New Zealand First would protect cash as a key option in transactions, requiring stores to take it for purchases up to $500. If drawn from the ballot and passed, NZ First leader Winston Peters said it would "provide for the enduring use of cash as a private, accessible, and reliable method of payment". The party cited rural communities, the elderly and low-income earners as being disproportionately affected by businesses that don't accept cash. As a members' bill, lodged 14 July in the name of NZ First MP Jamie Arbuckle, it's still a long while from possibly becoming law, but it does propose sweeping changes in how businesses treat cash and looks at who gets left out in a digital economy. Here's what you need to know. What does the bill propose? The Cash Transactions Protection Bill would mandate businesses in trade accept cash payment for goods valued up to $500. "The bill ensures that New Zealanders maintain freedom of choice in how they pay, preserving cash as what it should be: an enduring private and reliable option", Peters said in introducing it. "By protecting the sanctity of cash transactions, the bill upholds personal privacy, maintains sovereign control over New Zealand's monetary system, and lessens the risks posed by digital-only payment systems." There are some exceptions given to the bill's requirements, including online retailers and land purchases. The bill also would propose that "payment in cash must be accepted for essential goods or services" - which it defines as food, water, fuel, health care and household utilities. Another part of the bill would require businesses to keep cash on hand for emergencies: "A vendor must ensure they have sufficient access to cash to allow them to continue to trade in the event of a digital or electrical outage that lasts longer than 24 hours." In the introduction, the bill says it "preserves cash as an explicit privacy-preserving payment method, ensuring both freedom of choice and freedom from unwarranted surveillance in financial transactions". "It puts New Zealanders' interests above global trends toward digital currencies, maintaining sovereign control over New Zealand's monetary policy and mitigating the risks associated with digital-only financial systems, like restricted access to funds." The bill also calls for fees or fines from $1000 to a maximum of $5000 for infringements. Will it become law? It's quite a long way from that, actually. As a members' bill, it's not yet guaranteed it will ever go to the House for a vote. The bill first will have to be randomly drawn from the ballot to be considered at all in the House, and then undergo the same process of debate and referral to select committees as any other bill. While it's on the members ballot, MPs are allowed only one bill in the lottery at any given time. NZ First has swapped out its bills on several occasions this term, so there's also no guarantees over how long this legislation will remain in the ballot. Speaking to Checkpoint recently, Retail NZ CEO Carolyn Young said she wondered if the bill was "kind of a sledgehammer for a small problem". Marisa Bidois, chief executive of the Restaurant Association of New Zealand, said the bill ignored realities many businesses deal with. "We understand the intent behind the proposed bill - no one wants to see people excluded from accessing essential goods and services. However, requiring all businesses to accept cash for transactions under $500 doesn't reflect the operational realities many businesses face. "We believe businesses should be trusted to make the right decisions for how they operate and serve their customers." Members' bills are often used to float an idea or gauge public reaction to it, Parliament's website notes. Can a business really refuse to take cash? Yes, as long as they "clearly inform customers in advance that they don't accept cash before you start shopping or receive services from them", the Reserve Bank of New Zealand said. They can do that with a sign on the premises or telling you in person before you pay. "Most hospitality businesses still accept cash, but a small and growing number are moving away from it, particularly in busy urban areas," Bidois said. "Some customers do push back when cash isn't accepted, especially if they haven't been informed ahead of time. That's why we encourage clear communication." You're also only allowed to pay so much of a bill in coins, by the way, in case you're thinking of clearing out that piggy bank - you're allowed up to $5 of 10 or 20 cent coins, $10 of 50 cent coins or $100 worth of $1 and $2 coins. Who uses cash now, anyway? According to the Reserve Bank's latest data released in June, 45.8 percent of the population are still using cash sometimes in "paying for everyday things" - although 79.1 percent are using debit cards/EFTPOS also. Only 3.6 percent of people say they "never use cash," while 33.2 percent said they hadn't used cash at all in the past seven days. Cash isn't quite the king it once was. "We know that less than 10 percent of transactions that happen across New Zealand throughout the year now happen in cash," Retail NZ's Young said. "In the cities a lot less cash is used and in rural areas and areas of deprivation there is a higher percentage of cash that is used." Bidois said in the Restaurant Association's latest survey, 40 percent of respondents said cash made up just 5 to 10 percent of their transactions. Still, when it comes to essentials, "there's no supermarket that doesn't take cash," Young said. On Peters' Facebook page, the post announcing the bill has gathered nearly 3000 comments and 15,000 likes, with many expressing support for the idea. "Thank you! I use cash as a way to keep within my budget, as my mother did," one wrote, while another said it was "an essential bill - especially for many of our elderly population". What are the benefits and downsides of electronic payments? On the other hand, Young said that electronic transactions are often easier for businesses to deal with. "Electronic transactions are much safer for a wide number of reasons," she said, including less chance of being targeted by thieves or counterfeit money, and less time for staff dealing with transactions. "For many retailers and for hospitalities, cafes and things, cash is not always their favoured method of payment because of those challenges." However, frequently complained-about surcharges such as those for PayWave are "not ideal", she said. Many also have concerns about the privacy and security issues around digital payments and the records they leave behind. Are some people being left out with a shift away from cash? Cash also comes back to the table during disasters, such as Cyclone Gabrielle, which saw infrastructure knocked out widely. "We do know that when the cyclones happened in Auckland and Gisborne and Hawke's Bay 18 months ago that the supermarkets were really critical for being able to, especially in those provincial areas … they really provided the cash that people needed to be able to pay for goods and services," Young said. Bidois said that while there was a clear shift toward digital payments, it was all about striking the right balance for businesses. "Many businesses are finding that tap-and-go is what most customers expect, and it makes day-to-day operations simpler. "That said, our members care about customer experience, and most continue to accept cash to accommodate older New Zealanders, tourists, or regulars who prefer it."
The Age
4 days ago
- Business
- The Age
‘I have no regrets': My husband the escort
Sitting in our dimly lit kitchen, waiting for my husband Ben* to tiptoe out of our toddler's bedroom, I had two cups of tea made, pictures selected, and was rehearsing my pitch. I didn't know whether this was totally nuts or I was a genius. As the one managing our finances, I'd become aware of the unsustainable nature of our living expenses much sooner than Ben. The increase in interest rates meant we only had a few months up our sleeve with our combined incomes (mine as a psychologist in outer Sydney, his in hospitality). Every beep of my phone as it hovered above a PayWave machine made me sick to my stomach. Seeing Ben, as a mature-age student, thrive for the first time in our 10-year-plus marriage had made me keep these concerns to myself. I had never seen him with this much purpose and energy – how could I take that away from him? Studying during the day and working several nights a week was already such a stretch, and it meant so much time away from our two-year-old daughter. Compounding our financial stress, we also had a desire for a second child. I knew we needed more money, but I couldn't figure out where exactly to find more time for either of us to work. The only option seemed to be overnight jobs. Security guard? They'd laugh at him. Overnight support worker? Damn, they required certificate-level qualifications. So, we needed a job that was overnight, didn't require any additional training or experience, and could be done after our toddler was asleep. This is when I typed 'male escort' into Google. As with everything, there was a shockingly wide range; from pornographic-type images of tanned, muscly men to cute, bookish, approachable guys – the common denominator being that their fees were about $300-plus an hour. My husband, he could do this. We'd met in our late 20s and each of us had had our share of lovers. Never shying away from those conversations about our past, our relationship had a best-friend vibe, despite being a monogamous marriage. We often joked about how many women I had to bat away when we finally committed to one another. Despite not being 'built' or traditionally handsome, he was confident in his ability to engage with women. I was curious to see his response to what I'd Googled. Squinting and rubbing his neck, Ben finally shuffled out of our toddler's bedroom. I handed him his cup of tea and first, showed him a spreadsheet. 'I don't think we can financially pull this off for much longer,' I said. 'Ugh, I knew it – I'll quit school,' he replied, in his usual, self-sacrificing manner. 'No,' I said, 'let's just explore all avenues before we pull the plug.' I pulled up one of the classier escort sites. 'These guys are making so much money – even if you went on one date a fortnight, we'd be able to manage.' I could see I'd piqued his interest after he snatched my laptop to read some of the 'about me' sections. 'Holy shit, you think I can do this?' he asked. 'Yes, I do,' I replied. We wrote a quirky intro for him, added some cute pictures, set his fees (30-minute meet-and-greet option with no commitments, hourly, and overnight), and hit publish. We were giddy – we were cheating the system! Thinking outside the box! We'd found a way to make our lives work! When a few weeks went by without any requests, the anti-climax we felt quickly morphed into resentment, thinking we'd been scammed out of the $40 the site charged. Then, out of nowhere, Ben got his first request. The shock hit – now, this was totally real. Were we OK with it? Would it change our marriage forever? We created some safety measures: 1) If, after the first date, either of us felt uncomfortable in any way, he would cease immediately; and 2) he wouldn't share any intimate details with me. As the night approached, the atmosphere in our home changed; it felt like the air had been taken out of our small apartment. We both withdrew into our own worlds. Mine had 'don't think about it' on repeat, and with work, study and parenting, we had little time to explore his. But given the increase in number (from a previous total of zero) of daily push-ups, I imagined that Ben, too, was managing levels of discomfort. My jealousy was eclipsed by fear. What if it was a scam? What if there was a gang targeting male escorts? Seeing him get ready for this date felt like an invasion of his privacy – it was such a foreign concept for two people who'd spent most of their relationship sharing a studio flat. When he came out dressed in his well-fitted dark jeans, simple T-shirt and jacket, smelling lovely, I recoiled – he's mine! We exchanged I-love-yous and I wished him good luck, and he headed out. Loading My jealousy was quickly eclipsed by fear. What if it was a scam? What if there was a gang targeting male escorts? What if he gets kidnapped? What will I say to the cops? What will I say to my parents? An hour in, I received a text: Meeting went well, am continuing with date. Love you. I distracted myself by phoning a friend. Speaking about it out loud to another person was a balm for my anxiety; with awe and curiosity, my kind friend distracted me with all sorts of questions. Where did we get this idea? How did he get a client? How much does he know about her? Has he seen pictures? What if he can't perform? We knew that this date was with a trans person assigned female at birth. They'd agreed to meet in a busy restaurant. Having experienced physical violence due to their gender identity, the client was cautious and guarded. Ben immediately felt warmly towards them and found it easy to build rapport over drinks and, later, music. It was from this instant that he realised this job would be about so much more than just sex. When he returned home that night, he said, 'Thank you for allowing me to do this – it was the easiest, most rewarding way I have ever earnt money.' Apparently, having sex with another person after all this time was 'not bad or good, just, different', and seemed to be the most insignificant part of the date. Very quickly, Ben was able to quit his hospitality job. He continued escorting over the next couple of years. During this time we had another child, and he had many repeat and regular clients, several of whom had a trauma history, or found intimacy difficult. Life at this stage was a blur of sleepless nights, him walking through the door late, lips still swollen from the Viagra, strapping the baby into a carrier and bouncing her into the night so I could rest. Most of his clients were mothers. Women losing themselves to the demands of motherhood, coming out of it decades later gasping for air, completely disconnected from who they were, their joy, and their marriages. Many were resentful. I often thought about them, wondering what had contributed the most to their failed marriages and loss of self. Was there a pattern? Was I safe from this future? They usually met in their homes, holiday homes, or a hotel room if they were out-of-towners. Ben would give them the 'boyfriend experience': hanging out, going to shows, galleries, dinners – even travelling overseas together. With the exception of our family life, which was off-limits, Ben was totally open with them, discussing his interests, art, hobbies; they'd exchange stories about their wild 20s, all of which allowed him to create bonds that felt authentic. Similar to my line of work as a psychologist, he created a sense of safety and connection; making clients feel validated and seen was a crucial element of the work (and the part that kept clients returning). His knack for reading people, along with his decades of hospitality experience, allowed him to easily adapt to what his clients needed from him. Loading Occasionally, he worked with couples. In these instances, he found himself in the role of moderator, helping them navigate the boundaries needed to enjoy a threesome. I was in awe of how well he was able to adapt to the emotional complexity of this role. I remember another curious friend asking him, 'But what about when you're not attracted to someone?' His reply touched me: 'Everyone has some attractive quality. I just focus on that.' Over time, it became easier for both of us to compartmentalise. When he was working, I rarely thought about what he was actually doing. What surprised me, however, was that although he was having the most sex of his life, he still craved intimacy with me. We felt more connected in our intimacy; it was a space for him to reclaim himself. Knowing that he preferred being with me, even though he had access to sex with other women, caught me off-guard – I'd never imagined this role could strengthen our bond. Ben quit escorting the moment we were able to scrape by without it. When I reflect on that time of our life, I have no regrets. People often believe that non-monogamy ends marriages. I believe that chronic financial stress, combined with overwork and limited quality time, create the real recipe for marital breakdown. Indeed, we are both proud of the work Ben did; a lot of these women got to experience a level of safety and connection in intimacy – similar to traditional therapeutic work – they'd never experienced before. For some, it would have given them a blueprint they could then apply to future relationships.
Sydney Morning Herald
4 days ago
- Business
- Sydney Morning Herald
‘I have no regrets': My husband the escort
Sitting in our dimly lit kitchen, waiting for my husband Ben* to tiptoe out of our toddler's bedroom, I had two cups of tea made, pictures selected, and was rehearsing my pitch. I didn't know whether this was totally nuts or I was a genius. As the one managing our finances, I'd become aware of the unsustainable nature of our living expenses much sooner than Ben. The increase in interest rates meant we only had a few months up our sleeve with our combined incomes (mine as a psychologist in outer Sydney, his in hospitality). Every beep of my phone as it hovered above a PayWave machine made me sick to my stomach. Seeing Ben, as a mature-age student, thrive for the first time in our 10-year-plus marriage had made me keep these concerns to myself. I had never seen him with this much purpose and energy – how could I take that away from him? Studying during the day and working several nights a week was already such a stretch, and it meant so much time away from our two-year-old daughter. Compounding our financial stress, we also had a desire for a second child. I knew we needed more money, but I couldn't figure out where exactly to find more time for either of us to work. The only option seemed to be overnight jobs. Security guard? They'd laugh at him. Overnight support worker? Damn, they required certificate-level qualifications. So, we needed a job that was overnight, didn't require any additional training or experience, and could be done after our toddler was asleep. This is when I typed 'male escort' into Google. As with everything, there was a shockingly wide range; from pornographic-type images of tanned, muscly men to cute, bookish, approachable guys – the common denominator being that their fees were about $300-plus an hour. My husband, he could do this. We'd met in our late 20s and each of us had had our share of lovers. Never shying away from those conversations about our past, our relationship had a best-friend vibe, despite being a monogamous marriage. We often joked about how many women I had to bat away when we finally committed to one another. Despite not being 'built' or traditionally handsome, he was confident in his ability to engage with women. I was curious to see his response to what I'd Googled. Squinting and rubbing his neck, Ben finally shuffled out of our toddler's bedroom. I handed him his cup of tea and first, showed him a spreadsheet. 'I don't think we can financially pull this off for much longer,' I said. 'Ugh, I knew it – I'll quit school,' he replied, in his usual, self-sacrificing manner. 'No,' I said, 'let's just explore all avenues before we pull the plug.' I pulled up one of the classier escort sites. 'These guys are making so much money – even if you went on one date a fortnight, we'd be able to manage.' I could see I'd piqued his interest after he snatched my laptop to read some of the 'about me' sections. 'Holy shit, you think I can do this?' he asked. 'Yes, I do,' I replied. We wrote a quirky intro for him, added some cute pictures, set his fees (30-minute meet-and-greet option with no commitments, hourly, and overnight), and hit publish. We were giddy – we were cheating the system! Thinking outside the box! We'd found a way to make our lives work! When a few weeks went by without any requests, the anti-climax we felt quickly morphed into resentment, thinking we'd been scammed out of the $40 the site charged. Then, out of nowhere, Ben got his first request. The shock hit – now, this was totally real. Were we OK with it? Would it change our marriage forever? We created some safety measures: 1) If, after the first date, either of us felt uncomfortable in any way, he would cease immediately; and 2) he wouldn't share any intimate details with me. As the night approached, the atmosphere in our home changed; it felt like the air had been taken out of our small apartment. We both withdrew into our own worlds. Mine had 'don't think about it' on repeat, and with work, study and parenting, we had little time to explore his. But given the increase in number (from a previous total of zero) of daily push-ups, I imagined that Ben, too, was managing levels of discomfort. My jealousy was eclipsed by fear. What if it was a scam? What if there was a gang targeting male escorts? Seeing him get ready for this date felt like an invasion of his privacy – it was such a foreign concept for two people who'd spent most of their relationship sharing a studio flat. When he came out dressed in his well-fitted dark jeans, simple T-shirt and jacket, smelling lovely, I recoiled – he's mine! We exchanged I-love-yous and I wished him good luck, and he headed out. Loading My jealousy was quickly eclipsed by fear. What if it was a scam? What if there was a gang targeting male escorts? What if he gets kidnapped? What will I say to the cops? What will I say to my parents? An hour in, I received a text: Meeting went well, am continuing with date. Love you. I distracted myself by phoning a friend. Speaking about it out loud to another person was a balm for my anxiety; with awe and curiosity, my kind friend distracted me with all sorts of questions. Where did we get this idea? How did he get a client? How much does he know about her? Has he seen pictures? What if he can't perform? We knew that this date was with a trans person assigned female at birth. They'd agreed to meet in a busy restaurant. Having experienced physical violence due to their gender identity, the client was cautious and guarded. Ben immediately felt warmly towards them and found it easy to build rapport over drinks and, later, music. It was from this instant that he realised this job would be about so much more than just sex. When he returned home that night, he said, 'Thank you for allowing me to do this – it was the easiest, most rewarding way I have ever earnt money.' Apparently, having sex with another person after all this time was 'not bad or good, just, different', and seemed to be the most insignificant part of the date. Very quickly, Ben was able to quit his hospitality job. He continued escorting over the next couple of years. During this time we had another child, and he had many repeat and regular clients, several of whom had a trauma history, or found intimacy difficult. Life at this stage was a blur of sleepless nights, him walking through the door late, lips still swollen from the Viagra, strapping the baby into a carrier and bouncing her into the night so I could rest. Most of his clients were mothers. Women losing themselves to the demands of motherhood, coming out of it decades later gasping for air, completely disconnected from who they were, their joy, and their marriages. Many were resentful. I often thought about them, wondering what had contributed the most to their failed marriages and loss of self. Was there a pattern? Was I safe from this future? They usually met in their homes, holiday homes, or a hotel room if they were out-of-towners. Ben would give them the 'boyfriend experience': hanging out, going to shows, galleries, dinners – even travelling overseas together. With the exception of our family life, which was off-limits, Ben was totally open with them, discussing his interests, art, hobbies; they'd exchange stories about their wild 20s, all of which allowed him to create bonds that felt authentic. Similar to my line of work as a psychologist, he created a sense of safety and connection; making clients feel validated and seen was a crucial element of the work (and the part that kept clients returning). His knack for reading people, along with his decades of hospitality experience, allowed him to easily adapt to what his clients needed from him. Loading Occasionally, he worked with couples. In these instances, he found himself in the role of moderator, helping them navigate the boundaries needed to enjoy a threesome. I was in awe of how well he was able to adapt to the emotional complexity of this role. I remember another curious friend asking him, 'But what about when you're not attracted to someone?' His reply touched me: 'Everyone has some attractive quality. I just focus on that.' Over time, it became easier for both of us to compartmentalise. When he was working, I rarely thought about what he was actually doing. What surprised me, however, was that although he was having the most sex of his life, he still craved intimacy with me. We felt more connected in our intimacy; it was a space for him to reclaim himself. Knowing that he preferred being with me, even though he had access to sex with other women, caught me off-guard – I'd never imagined this role could strengthen our bond. Ben quit escorting the moment we were able to scrape by without it. When I reflect on that time of our life, I have no regrets. People often believe that non-monogamy ends marriages. I believe that chronic financial stress, combined with overwork and limited quality time, create the real recipe for marital breakdown. Indeed, we are both proud of the work Ben did; a lot of these women got to experience a level of safety and connection in intimacy – similar to traditional therapeutic work – they'd never experienced before. For some, it would have given them a blueprint they could then apply to future relationships.
NZ Herald
05-05-2025
- Business
- NZ Herald
Hidden cost: how tighter payment rules could hurt Kiwis
A move to reduce payment fees further risks pushing up costs, stifling innovation, and putting small Kiwi businesses at risk. This article was prepared by Anthony Watson for Visa and is being published by the New Zealand Herald as advertorial. By Anthony Watson, Country Manager, Visa New Zealand & Pacific Islands Just over two years have passed since the Commerce Commission introduced interchange regulation intended to bring down the cost of payments to consumers and businesses in New Zealand. Now, it's proposing to tighten that even further. On the surface, the regulator's rationale seems simple: in its view, further capping interchange payments would help businesses lower their costs and therefore lead to cost savings for consumers. But there's a critical piece of analysis missing – if the regulation introduced in 2022 didn't deliver the savings promised, why will this round be any different? Before trying the same again, let's look at what's actually happening Interchange balances the risks and benefits for all parties to deliver secure, seamless payments. Many of the features New Zealanders now take for granted, such as contactless (PayWave), ecommerce and advanced fraud capabilities, are the result of sustained investment and global collaboration. Before reaching for more regulation, we need to understand what impact the current regulation has achieved. To date there is no clear, data-driven evidence to show that the 2022 caps delivered their intended benefits, nor is there a detailed cost-benefit analysis of the further regulation proposed. And that's important because, in some areas, there have been outcomes that run counter to the original intentions of the regulation. Take surcharging, for example. Despite guidance to encourage businesses to pass on lower costs, surcharging has become more prevalent - not less. This raises serious questions about whether further fee reductions would be passed on to consumers at all. A comprehensive assessment of what's already occurred is needed before introducing deeper regulatory intervention. Otherwise, how can decision makers be confident that this next step will deliver the intended outcomes? Regulation should be a response to proven problems Interchange encourages innovation and competition while contributing to the protection of New Zealand consumers and businesses from card-related fraud. In countries where card schemes operate under artificially low or compressed interchange, there has been evidence of a lag in terms of development and the introduction of new payments technology. We have a widely-acknowledged local example in Eftpos which, despite its initial success, does not offer contactless payments in New Zealand. This is largely due to Eftpos' zero-cost model which did not generate sufficient returns to re-invest in new technology. Singapore's Competition Commission, by comparison, concluded in 2013 that regulating interchange would create barriers to entry and since then has gone on to develop one of the most advanced digital payment ecosystems in the world. This is why any changes to how interchange fees are regulated should be grounded in robust analysis - not assumptions or generalisations. Regulation is an important part of a well-functioning market, but it should be balanced and used as a safeguard, not a sledgehammer. Without a clear demonstration that the current caps have failed, surely pushing ahead with further restrictions is premature, and uncertain. First, we must look at the other levers and elements in the picture. The risks of getting it wrong Let's be clear: slashing interchange further, without understanding the ripple effects, risks unintended consequences. We're talking about restricted access to affordable credit – especially for small businesses, and a slowing of New Zealand's economy with impacts on tourism, commerce and foreign direct investment. Let's focus on commercial cards. Used by many small and medium-sized businesses (SMBs) to manage cash flow, commercial cards could become unviable if further interchange caps are applied. A Retail NZ poll found that 92% of its member businesses used a credit card for purchasing business items. With SMBs representing 97% of New Zealand's businesses overall [1], introducing a cap could disproportionately affect their access to commercial credit products to manage their working capital requirements. When it comes to other methods of payment, all forms from cash to Eftpos, four-party debit and credit card models like Visa, or more expensive credit options like Buy-Now-Pay-Later (BNPL) come at a cost and provide different levels of additional value, convenience and security. While lower interchange may sound appealing, it would reduce the viability to deliver secure and convenient payment experiences. Our evidence shows that taking action on interchange in one, undifferentiated swoop is likely to have the opposite effect than the Commission intends. It will push consumers and businesses to other credit options, like charge cards or BNPL, which generally have a higher cost for consumers and businesses, immediately negating the benefits of any initial cost saving (and increasing surcharges if nothing else). It will likely result in lower authorisations for everyday payments (which means fewer sales for businesses and more frustration for consumers). And it will limit innovation and restrict choice, essentially shutting the door to new fintech competition entering the New Zealand market in future. Let's take a measured, evidence-first approach Visa supports a competitive, innovative, and secure payments environment in New Zealand that delivers great outcomes for consumers, businesses and the economy. And we support regulation that is backed by clear data and designed to deliver long-term value. At this point, we encourage the Commission to pause, step back, and conduct a full regulatory impact assessment. Without that, we risk undermining the very outcomes we're all trying to achieve. Because, when it comes to a system that is important in driving economic growth and tourism in New Zealand, we can't afford to get it wrong.
