The Hugh O'Flaherty fiasco should have taught the Coalition Government a lesson about public opinion and jobs for the boys in this new society of the Celtic Tiger.
But Mary Harney must be a slow learner. How else can you explain her renewed involvement in backstairs negotiations involving Ulick McEvaddy, a wealthy, persuasive businessman; a senior opposition politician; a tangled web of Government command; and a European Investment Bank job worth £147,000 a year?
The upshot of it all was a Taoiseach who was reported to be hopping mad over the shambles. A Minister for Finance who was placed under further pressure. A confused Fianna Fail parliamentary party. An implicated Fine Gael. And a deeply disillusioned and angry electorate.
The Progressive Democrats took the biggest hit and are now deep in political manure. Having valiantly supported Mr O'Flaherty for the £147,000 a year post as vice-president of the EIB until the unfortunate man fell on his own sword, the Tanaiste seemed determined to compound her difficulties by engaging in stroke politics.
Of course, there was a simple explanation. But past experience has encouraged the public to opt for a complex conspiracy. Such suspicions make more sense of confrontational politics.
The simple explanation has Ulick McEvaddy, a rich businessman and close friend and holiday accommodation-provider to the Tanaiste and Charlie McCreevy, as well as to Mr Mitchell and others, suggesting the Fine Gael man for the job, off his own bat. He mentioned this idea to Ms Harney and she asked him to check it out.
Mr Mitchell expressed delight, but asked for time to consider the proposition. At no time was a firm offer made. But Mr Mitchell suggests the job was his for the taking. Having consulted his family, his medical adviser and a dumbfounded John Bruton, the penny dropped. The job wasn't acceptable for a range of reasons. The Fine Gael man withdrew.
After that, the matter became complicated. Was the overture a Mary Harney solo run or did she and Charlie McCreevy engage in a creative two-hander? And what about the role of Bertie Ahern, who could have a by-election in his Dublin Central constituency if Mr Mitchell got the gig?
People immediately recalled the stroke politics of Charlie Haughey, when Dick Burke was given the job of EU Commissioner in 1982 in order to bolster Fianna Fail's Dail position. And they wondered if Bertie Ahern had taken a leaf out of his book.
In an attempt to kill the story stone dead, there was a flurry of Cabinet activity. With Mary Harney in charge, a second secretary at the Department of Finance, Michael Tutty, was put forward for the job. And Mr McCreevy agreed to travel to Luxembourg next week to confirm the Government's choice.
In faraway New York, the Taoiseach put as much distance as possible between himself and this new political adventure. He knew practically naa-thing, Mr Ahern told travelling journalists. The man who had taken a vow of silence in the aftermath of the O'Flaherty decision finally found his voice. A number of people had been sounded out, the Taoiseach admitted. But he had always supported the candidature of Mr Tutty.
Back in Dublin, a spokesman for the Tanaiste would not say who she had consulted about the Mitchell overture.
It was inconceivable that the idea would not have been bounced off Mr McCreevy and the Taoiseach before Mr Mitchell was pushed for a final answer, but nobody was prepared to discuss details of the process.
Instead, spokespersons talked about the nomination process being confidential. This was required, they intoned piously, out of respect for the unsuccessful candidates and for the person who finally got the job. A snow job, of sub-blizzard standards, was under way.
Mr McCreevy himself remained mute. But supporters of Mr Mitchell insisted that the overture had been cleared with both the Taoiseach and the Minister for Finance and was to have been raised at a Cabinet lunch last Tuesday.
Over in Fine Gael, Mr Mitchell was not flavour of the month. By allowing his name to be associated with the EIB job, he had embroiled Fine Gael in a process of croneyism and had blurred the distinction John Bruton had been trying to draw between the two major parties in the run-up to the general election. Worse than that, the suspicion was abroad that Mr Mitchell stoked the controversy by dropping news of the Government's approach into the public domain.
It may have been sour grapes. This was the second time John Bruton had stood between him and a big job.
In 1997, when the Coalition Government was being formed, Mr Mitchell was offered the job of Ceann Comhairle through the same conduit. At that time, Mr Bruton said an emphatic "No". And Mr Mitchell bowed to party discipline. The word was repeated at a number of meetings between the two men last week. And icicles hung in the air.
Mr McEvaddy is a big mate of Jim Mitchell. But even he must have realised that a man awaiting a liver transplant, who must remain within an hour's drive of a Dublin hospital, could hardly be regarded as an automatic choice for a European job.
Still, the process was undertaken. And the Government, still deeply bruised by the O'Flaherty affair, appeared to have learnt nothing.
If golden circles and inside tracks exist for Fianna Fail, then they could also grease the way for Fine Gael. And, in spite of rumblings of the need for reform and transparency in key government appointments, there was a definite reluctance by politicians to let go of the honey jar from which they had traditionally supped.
The episode was another disaster for the Progressive Democrats: the party which had been founded to break unacceptable moulds had emerged as a champion of the inside track.
