With Negative Rates, Homeowners In Europe Are Paid To Borrow
Covid-19 is widening the pool of mortgage holders who receive interest.
Covid-19 is widening the pool of mortgage holders who receive interest.
ISBON—Paula Cristina Santos has a dream mortgage: The bank pays her.
Her interest rate fluctuates, but right now it is around minus 0.25%. So every month, Ms. Santos’s lender, Banco BPI SA, deposits in her account interest on the 320,000-euro mortgage, equivalent to roughly $380,000, she took out in 2008. In March, she received around $45. She is still paying principal on the loan.
Ms. Santos’s upside-down relationship with her lender started years ago when the European Central Bank cut interest rates to below zero to reignite the continent’s frail economy in the midst of a sovereign-debt crisis. The negative rates helped everyone get cheap financing, from governments to small companies. It gave an incentive to households to borrow and spend. And it broke the basic rule of credit, allowing banks to owe money to borrowers.
Ms. Santos’s case was supposed to be rare and mostly over by now. After the ECB cut interest rates to below zero in 2014, economies in the eurozone improved and expectations were that rates would rise in a few years. But the coronavirus pandemic changed all that.
As economic pain in Europe drags on, the negative rates remain—and they are getting lower. As a result, more borrowers in Portugal as well as in Denmark, where interest rates turned negative in 2012, are finding themselves in the unusual position of receiving interest on their loans.
“When I took the mortgage, I never imagined this scenario, and neither did the bank,” said Ms. Santos, a 44-year-old business consultant.
Deco, a Lisbon-based consumer-rights group that in 2019 estimated that rates had turned negative on more than 30,000 mortgage contracts in Portugal, said the figure has likely more than doubled since then.
Many European borrowers have variable-rate mortgages tied to interest-rate benchmarks. Like most in Portugal, Ms. Santos’s is tied to Euribor, which is based on how much it costs European banks to borrow from each other. She pays a fixed 0.29% on top of the three-month Euribor rate. When she took out the mortgage in 2008, three-month Euribor was close to 5%. It has been falling in recent months and is now near a record low, at minus 0.54%.
Portugal’s state-owned Caixa Geral de Depósitos SA said about 12% of its mortgage contracts currently carry negative rates. The number of such contracts rose by 50% last year, according to a person familiar with the situation. Ms. Santos’s bank, BPI, said it has so far paid €1 million in interest on mortgage contracts to an undisclosed number of customers.
Spain, where most mortgages are also linked to Euribor, faced a similar situation. But the country passed a law that prevents rates from going below zero. Portugal did the opposite, passing a bill in 2018 that requires banks to reflect negative rates.
“In the event that the decline in interest rates exceeds the mortgage spread, the client would not pay interest, but in no case [would the bank] pay in favour of the borrower,” said a spokesman for Banco Bilbao Vizcaya Argentaria SA, one of Spain’s largest lenders.
There are no official figures available on how many mortgages are currently carrying a zero interest rate in Spain. Banks have declined to disclose their numbers.
In Denmark, more borrowers have seen their rates turn negative, although in most cases they are still paying their banks because of an administration fee charge.
There, mortgages aren’t directly financed by the banks, which don’t set their terms. Instead, they serve as a type of intermediary, selling bonds to investors at a specific rate, lending the same amount to the borrower for the same rate.
Nykredit, Denmark’s biggest mortgage lender, said more than 50% of its loans with an interest period of up to 10 years have a negative interest rate before the fee. That proportion is rising because mortgages tend to have their rates adjusted every few years.
That is the case for Claus Johansen, 41, who works in Nykredit’s mortgage department. In 2016, he took on a five-year adjustable-rate mortgage for 1.2 million Danish kroner, equivalent to roughly $190,000, to buy a house north of Copenhagen. His interest repayments for the first five years were set at 0.06%. In January of this year, the rate was revised to minus 0.26%, which is subtracted from a 0.6% administration fee he has to pay the bank.
“It’s odd, but negative rates have been around for so many years, we just got used to it,” Mr. Johansen said.
A flip side to borrowers receiving interest from their lenders is that banks in Denmark and elsewhere have started charging customers for their deposits, saying they can no longer absorb the negative rates their central bank charges them. Mr. Johansen said he keeps his account balance under the threshold at which his bank would start charging him.
In Lisbon, Ms. Santos said that while it is great to receive interest from her bank, her situation overall isn’t better off because BPI has sharply cut the interest it offered on her business deposit account in recent years, to close to zero, from around 3%. Her plans to buy a new house are on hold because BPI is now charging a much higher spread on new mortgages, to avoid falling into the negative-rates trap again.
“We wanted to move out of the city centre, but it is hard to leave such a good mortgage deal behind,” Ms. Santos said.
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U.S. employees are more dissatisfied than they were in the thick of the pandemic
Americans, by many measures, are unhappier at work than they have been in years.
Despite wage increases, more paid time off and greater control over where they work, the number of U.S. workers who say they are angry, stressed and disengaged is climbing, according to Gallup’s 2023 workplace report. Meanwhile, a BambooHR analysis of data from more than 57,000 workers shows job-satisfaction scores have fallen to their lowest point since early 2020, after a 10% drop this year alone.
In interviews with workers around the country, it is clear the unhappiness is part of a rethinking of work life that began in 2020. The sources of workers’ discontent range from inflation, which is erasing much of recent pay gains, to the still-unsettled nature of the workday. People chafe against being micromanaged back to offices, yet they also find isolating aspects of hybrid and remote work. A cooling job market—especially in white-collar roles—is leaving many professionals feeling stuck.
Companies have largely moved on from pandemic operating mode, cutting costs and renewing a focus on productivity. The disconnect with workers has managers frustrated, and no quick fix seems to be at hand. Those in charge said they have given staff more money, flexibility and support, only to come up short.
The experiences of workers like Lindsey Leesmann suggest how expectations have shifted from just a few years ago. Leesmann, 38 years old, said she soured on a philanthropy job after having to return to the office two days a week earlier this year.
Prepandemic, she would have been happy working three days a week at home. “It would have been a dream come true.” Still, her team’s in-office requirements seemed like going backward, and made her feel that her professionalism and work quality were in doubt. Instead of collaborating more, she and others rarely left their desks, except for meetings or lunch, she said. Negative feelings followed her home on her hourlong commute, leaving her short-tempered with her kids.
“You try to keep work and home separate, but that sort of stuff is just impacting your mental health so much,” said Leesmann, who recently moved to a new job that requires five in-office days a month.
The discontent has business leaders struggling for answers, said Stephan Scholl, chief executive of Alight Solutions, a technology company focused on benefits and payroll administration. Many of the Fortune 100 companies on Alight’s client list boosted spending on employee benefits such as mental health, child care and well-being bonuses by 20% over the pandemic years.
“All that extra spend has not translated into happier employees,” Scholl said. In an Alight survey of 2,000 U.S. employees this year, 34% said they often dread starting their workday—an 11-percentage-point rise since 2020. Corporate clients have told him mental-health claims and costs from employee turnover are rising.
One factor is the share of workers who are relatively new to their roles after record levels of job-switching, said Benjamin Granger, chief workplace psychologist at software company Qualtrics. Many employers have focused more on hiring than situating new employees well, leaving many newbies feeling adrift. In other cases, workers discovered shiny-seeming new jobs weren’t a great fit.
The upshot is that the newest workers are among the least satisfied, Qualtrics data show—a reversal of the higher levels of enthusiasm that fresh hires typically voice. In its study of nearly 37,000 workers published last month, people less than six months into a job reported lower levels of engagement, feelings of inclusion and intent to stay than longer-tenured workers. They also scored lower on those metrics than new workers in 2022, suggesting the pay raises that lured many people to new jobs might not be as satisfying as they were a year or two ago.
“What happened to that honeymoon phase?” Granger said.
John Shurr, a 66-year-old former manufacturing engineer, took a job as an inventory manager at a heavy-equipment retailer in the spring in Missoula, Mont., after being laid off during the pandemic.
“It was a nice job title on a pretty rotten job,” said Shurr, who learned soon after starting that his duties would also include sales to walk-in customers.
When Shurr broached the subject, his boss asked him to give it a chance and said he was really needed on the showroom floor. Shurr, who describes himself as more of a computer guy, quit about a month later.
“I feel kind of trapped at the moment,” said Shurr, who has since taken a part-time job as a parts manager as he tries to find full-time work.
Long-distance relationships between bosses and staff might also be an issue. Nearly a third of workers at large firms don’t work in the same metro area as their managers, up from about 23% in February 2020, according to data from payroll provider ADP.
Distance has weakened ties among co-workers and heightened conflict, said Moshe Cohen, a mediator and negotiation coach who teaches conflict resolution at Boston University’s Questrom School of Business. He has noticed more employees calling co-workers or bosses toxic or impossible, signs that trust is thin.
Cohen’s corporate clients said their employees are increasingly transactional with one another. Some are coaching workers in the finer points of dialogue, such as saying hello first before jumping into the substance of a conversation.
“The idea of slowing down, taking the time, being genuine, trying to actually establish some sort of connection with the other person—that’s really missing,” Cohen said.
One Los Angeles-based consultant in his 20s, who asked to remain anonymous because he is seeking another job, said that when he started his job at a large company last year, his largely remote colleagues were focused on their own work, unwilling to show a new hire the ropes or invite him for coffee. Many leave cameras off for video calls and few people show up at the office, making it hard to build relationships.
“There’s zero humanity,” he said, noting that he is seeking another job with a strong office culture.
The share of U.S. companies mandating office attendance five days a week has fallen this year—to 38% in October from 49% at the start of the year—according to Scoop Technologies, a software firm that developed an index to monitor workplace policies of nearly 4,500 companies.
Some companies have reversed flexible remote-work policies—in large part, they said, to boost employee engagement and productivity—only to face worker backlash.
Not all the data point downward. A Conference Board survey in November 2022 of U.S. adults showed workers were more satisfied with their jobs than they had been in years. Key contingents among the happiest employees: people who voluntarily switched roles during the pandemic and those working a mix of in-person and remote days. But that poll was taken before a spate of layoffs at high-profile companies and big declines in the number of knowledge-worker and professional jobs advertised.
At Farmers Group, workers posted thousands of mostly negative comments on the insurer’s internal social-media platform after its new CEO nixed the company’s previous policy allowing most workers to be remote.
Employees like Kandy Mimande said they felt betrayed. “We couldn’t get the ‘why,’” said the 43-year-old, who had sold her car and spent thousands of dollars to redo her home office under the remote-work policy. She shelled out $10,000 for a used car for the commute. A company spokesperson said that not all employees will support every business decision and that Farmers hasn’t seen a significant impact on staff retention.
During a brief leave, Mimande realised she no longer felt a sense of purpose from her product-management job. She resigned last month after she and her wife decided they could live on one salary.
She now helps promote a band and pet-sits. “It’s so much easier for me to report to myself,” she said.
Consumers are going to gravitate toward applications powered by the buzzy new technology, analyst Michael Wolf predicts
Chris Dixon, a partner who led the charge, says he has a ‘very long-term horizon’