I am alive
Every year itâs the same old rigmarole.
Every year RTE writes to me and askes for proof that Iâm still alive.
Normally I would ignore such a daft request but they clearly state that if I donât provide proof then theyâll assume Iâm dead and will stop my pension. Bastards.
I tried phoning them with a cheerful âhey â itâs me and Iâm aliveâ but they wouldnât accept that. Some fucking excuse about not being able to file a phone call. Apparently the choice is between signing their fucking letter or begging on the streets.
Now the problem with their letter is that I have to get my signature witnessed. They helpfully supply a list of types of people that are acceptable.
A member of the staff of RTE? Fuck that! I donât know any staff in RTE and the way they are going there wonât be any staff in RTE anyway. Bang goes my excuse to call in on the Plank.
A Trustee of the RTE Superannuation Scheme? I donât know any of them either. Anyway itâs them thatâs looking for the proof, which is a bit weird. Maybe I should just send the form back to them and ask whoever reads it to sign it?
A Peace Commissioner? Who the fuck is he when heâs at home? I didnât think they even existed any more.
Clergyman? Hahahahaha! There ainât no priest, rabbi or minister around here who knows me from Adam.
A Bank Manager or Senior Bank Official? My own bank manager is too fucking far away and anyway Iâm not in the mood for a protracted ear-bashing about my spending habits. All the others are holed up and trying to avoid the wrath of the mob. No one, but no one will admit to being a Bank Official these days, and quite right too.
Legal or Medical Practitioner? Iâd ask Doc but the chancer would just see that as an excuse to sting me for a consultancy fee. The only time Iâll go near Doc is if I am seriously and potentially fatally ill or if he owes me a pint [which is most nights].
A member of the Garda Siochana? I asked Sheriff if heâd sign a scrap of paper to say I was still alive but he said he didnât want to run the risk of perjuring himself. Bastard.
I had been carrying this scrap of paper around for a few weeks, hoping I would trip over one of the above mentioned. It didnât happen.
In the end I came up with a cunning and devious little plan. What if I could get myself arrested and then persuade them to drop the charges? That way Iâd be surrounded by the Boys in Blue and would have my pick of signature witnesses.
Unfortunately it didnât go quite as planned.
I wonder if a District Court Judge will do even though his name isnât on the list?
I hope so.
Iâll be meeting one this afternoon.
There must be a way to generate one of these bits of paper automatically, every year? Technology can do things like that now.
You could then have your body frozen when you die, and when medical science finds a cure for whatever popped you off and you are thawed out, you will have enough money in your account to buy RTE and put a stop to this nonsense.
See. That's a plan!
Photocopier? All I have to do is run off a couple of hundred copies and change the dates? A nice little legacy to leave future generations!
That's fairly standard practice GD with private company pension schemes.
Just get Herself to sign it p.p. An Garda Siochana.
It may be standard but it's a fucking nuisance. Damned red tape…
Kind of what I go through every year with the Veterans Administration. They send me a form letter asking me to verify I'm still disabled. I always want to send the damn thing back with a note attached asking them if they're still stupid? But since I'd make a lousy homeless person plus the fact that my wife would be quite put out having to live on the streets, I dutifully fill the thing out stating yes, I'm still disabled (did you guys perhaps think I took a magic pill?).
In fairness now, you could have been to a faith healer, a juju doctor or even a trip to Lourdes? Miracles do happen. Or so I am told. Not that I have ever seen one.
On that note, perhaps I should go live in the woods for a month or so? Maybe I'll spy Jesus' face in a moss bed, tree fungus, mushroom? Or perhaps I can smoke the moss, toss the tree fungus over my shoulder and eat the mushroom. Then I'm sure to think I'm cured of all ills and maybe even revert back to my 20s–or I could die. Either way, I'm cured.
I filled in my 'proof of existence' form a couple of weeks ago but my witness can be anyone who knows me and is not a family member so not a great problem. As it happened my builder was in so he did it, most of my pension seems to have gone on him anyway!