I hate forms.
I also hate officialdom.
There are a couple of jobs I have been putting off as I just know in my waters that they involve form filling, tedious phone calls [doubtless with ther lovely menu systems and tacky music] and worst of all, a visit to Skobieville.
One job is sort of important. Ulster Bank in their infinite wisdom are leaving me high and dry by shutting down their business. The cunts. They should just transfer me to the bank of my choice but no, I have to go through the process of applying for new accounts in a new bank and then transferring everything over. I don’t know what happens if I do nothing? Do they just take my money and fuck off? Will my pension just vanish in a Black Hole? I’m tempted to phone them to find out but that would just mean another hour or two listening to more tacky music and “your call is important to us”.
The other job is more interesting. They are offering free energy rating upgrades to people who fall into certain categories. I happen to fall into one of those categories – a full time carer living with my caree. The application form is relatively easy apart for a couple of little points. One is that really I live in two houses – the part that’s two hundred years old and the part that’s fifty five years old. They don’t have a tick-box for that. The other thing is that I need to send in my application form and another form, both of which have to be signed and stamped by the DEASP. Who the fuck are they?
I phoned the crowd who deal with all this [SEAI – they love nonsense acronyms]. To my amazement I went through the usual “this call is being recorded etc etc” and the phone was immediately picked up. Even more surprising, it was picked up by a very nice helpful woman who sounded like she had just been sitting there waiting for me to call. She was extremely helpful and we chatted about cavity wall insulation and double glazing and dry lining, but told me the only way to get the DEASP shit was to call into my local Social Welfare office. She looked that up for me and announced that it’s in Skobieville. Bugger!
So some time next week I am condemned to visit my local town. I haven’t been there in ages but I doubt it has changed much. I shall leave all cash and credit cards at home in case I am mugged and must remember to triple lock the car. I should be okay if I don’t get a puncture from the broken glass or discarded needles. While I’m there I can visit the DEASP if I can find them and also the bank to open an account.
Life is never dull