The Persistent Pedant
I opened a bank account at the beginning of the month.
I was told I would have to provide them with a six month detailed statement from my old bank before the account could become active. I contacted my old bank and they said that was no problem. I haven’t heard from them since.
In the meantime I received a new debit card and details of the account I wasn’t supposed to have. I transferred a few quid into this account and it worked. So did the debit card. All seemed ticketty boo despite the request for statements.
I could have left things like that but I needed to stick Herself onto that account for various reasons. Somehow I would have to get her into Skobieville to provide signatures. I phoned the new bank. It was the usual obstacle course of phone messages, options and irritating advertisements before I got through to someone with a pulse. Ah sure you don’t need an appointment says the pulse, just call in. No problem.
Yesterday we took the proverbial water buffalo by the horns and went into Skobieville. Logistically this is not very straightforward but nevertheless it was a fine sunny day and we don’t get many of those. We arrived at the bank. May I help you? says the sweet young thing behind the counter. I told her what we were there for and she said Yer Man who deals with that is booked solid for the day and could we come back another day? I went to say something but all that came out was a squawk. I was completely out of breath and sweating somewhat after pushing the wheelchair half the length of the town. Herself wasn’t looking too clever either. I had nearly tipped her out of the chair going down a steep kerb and she still was in a state of shock. The girl behind the counter began to look worried. She rushed off and came back a few moments later. He’ll see you shortly says she.
We waited. Eventually Yer Man came out and said he’d see us. It was the same bloke I had dealt with before. It was obviously his lunch hour but tough shit.
He started by saying he needed proof of identity. No problem says I and produced her Social Services card. Grand says he but I need something with a photo identity. I produced her Personal Services card [they have gone crazy over cards here]. Did I have a birth certificate? Yes, and I shoved it at him along with our marriage certificate. Still he wasn’t satisfied. He now wanted something on headed paper addressed to the two of us giving our full names and our address. With a flourish I produced my coup de grâce – a letter addressed to the two of us using our full names and address on headed paper from his own bank about an insurance policy.
He still wasn’t happy. He now nit picked about the insurance and had we paid it? I pointed out that I had provided precisely what he had requested but he said that wasn’t enough. He wanted a bill addressed to the two of us and not a letter about an insurance policy. I nearly told him to go fuck himself but I refrained. I deserve a medal for that. Anyways he did a lot of typing [and an incredible lot of rapid back-spacing] and muttered about “them above who won’t be happy with the papers supplied”.
We obviously weren’t going to get any further so we fucked off home.
Sitting at home trying to get my blood pressure down I had a thought. Every bill we don’t get sent [I do everything online these days] is in my name. Why the fuck would anyone have a joint account with the electricity mob or the broadband mob? I get all the bills [on the Interwebs] and I pay all the bills.
I have done my bit. Now I am just going to sit and wait to see what happens. If her name appears on the account then well and good. If it doesn’t then things can stay the way they are.
If Herself doesn’t like that I’ll threaten her with a return trip to Skobieville.
They request all that crap in hopes that you will simply give up, walk away, and never darken their door again. This way they can get back to Velma’s retirement party and finish that piece of cake you so rudely interrupted with business.
Contact your local Shinner TD. (He doesn’t know you would never vote for him).
The banks wet themselves at the thought of the Shinners coming after them after the next election.
Many of our bills, gas, leccy, house insurance etc, used to be in joint names, but gradually utility companies and the like have removed the second name and send bills, or address online stuff, to just the first name – usually me. Most new accounts only allow for one name on the application. Our bank cards on our joint account used to be in the form Mr A Woodsy42 and Mrs B woodsy42, ie the actual account name, both had the same card number but just recently replacements have been sent which have different card numbers and only show one name on each. A pain in the arse because now I can’t tell which card goes with my personal account and which one is for the joint account.
There seems to be a deliberate downgrading of marriage nowadays and everything is being done in only one name so his wanting a bill with both names is just being difficult.
Can’t say we Brits never did anything for you Fenians: we bequeathed you a bureaucrat layer which has flourished and developed way beyond our hopes. Enjoy!
Grandad is more a United Irishman than a Fenian, more Joyce than Yeats, more Behan than Kavanagh, more Beckett than Heaney!
I’m not sure if any of that is an insult or a compliment!
Had a similar thing with the pension company. I told them by email, very politely, about a recent change of address and received a barrage of letters demanding all sorts of proof that I was who I think I am. Driving licence, passport (originals, not copies, not even countersigned by the Archangel Gabriel), recent utility bills (all done on line these days, no paper bills). I baulked at all this a bit and had a think. For a couple of months … and then reasoned that, because I am unjabbed, pure-blood and therefore unclean, it is most unlikely that I will be travelling to forrin climes in the near future and so decided to risk the passport in the post. It was sent back with a brief covering letter saying that they had reluctantly agreed that I had moved house. Fast forward another few weeks and the bloke who is wrestling my pension from the grasp of Sun Life of Canada contacted me to say that they are refusing to have anything to do with him because they don’t recognise the new address …
And they wonder why people become apoplectic with frustration as a result of their monumental and cloth-eared stupidity. It’s a good kick in the arse they need. Repeatedly, until common sense eventually dawns.
In my case I had to jump through the hoops just to sign up for the Gubmint website which is supposed to be the online version of all services combined. I found the Social Welfare section [Pensions] and told them about my new bank account. My Carers Allowance didn’t change over however [also paid by Social Welfare] only to discover that I had to change that separately in a completely different section of the site [Family!].
Ah yes…the convenience of today’s technology. Sometimes friend; other times your worst enema. (Nope, not a typo.)
I’m surprised he didn’t ask for blood samples and a letter from both sets of parents.