After my run-in with Welsh Kieran over Jane’s car insurance renewal, I was feeling a bit bruised in the customer services department. It didn’t help when a subsequent attempt to register with a foreign exchange website resulted in a resounding ‘computer says no’ situation. The problem comes from having a foreign name.
I know this because once upon a time, my name was misspelt on the electoral roll and ever since then nobody believes I am who I say I am. It’s like living in Terry Gilliam's Brazil. It’s even funny, until it stops you from getting things you really need done.
It wouldn’t be so bad if the ineptitude meant the authorities couldn’t find you but in my experience it’s only enough of an error to stop you, not them. None of my utility bills have my name spelt right but they don’t seem to mind that one bit and they take my money just the same.
I thought it would be simple to put this particular error right and around about general election time, in the summer of 2010, I phoned the electoral roll guys up and spelt my name down the phone to them. Everything seemed sorted after that and my polling cards arrived with all the right letters on them, in all the right order, but six months later I’m on the phone to the customer services department of this Forex company trying to sort out a failed online registration.
“Oh yes, hello Sarah, I’m having a bit of trouble registering, your security checking system doesn’t recognise me at my stated address.”
Sarah looks into it and agrees with my prognosis, that my name is probably misspelt on the electoral roll. Not on their third party database, mind, but on the electoral roll. It's like she has an allergy to implied fault.
“Erm, I’ve called my local electoral office and they’ve spelt my name back to me correctly and unprompted from the data they currently hold. They’ve also been sending me correctly addressed letters since the election back in the summer, so I don’t think it’s them.”
“Oh, well they probably haven’t released the data. It can take up to three years...”
“They say they completely refreshed the entire database on the First of December," I interject, "and that any corrections made before that would have been notified seperately."
“Well, why don’t you try registering with your name as it was spelt before?” suggests Sarah, seeing an easy way out.
“I’d rather not. It would be like trying to register under a false name, if you get me. Just the kind of thing we’re trying to prevent, no?”
“Well, I’m sorry, there’s nothing I can do." she says, ignoring the 'we' aspect that I've introduced in a gentle attempt to make it our problem. "It’s a points system, and if you don’t have enough points, there’s nothing I can do.”
Once again, It doesn't take a mind reader to know she wants rid of me. Most of these agencies want to make a community out of (or into) a business opportunity but this kind of thing is generally too real for them. At least customer services, god bless 'em, can't really hang up, unless you lose control.
“I see.” I pause. I’m calm. I want help, not conflict. “I notice that you can input passport and driving licence details during registration, if you want to apply for a currency card that is. Do you think it would help me amass the required number of points if I add these details, to prove my identity?”
“You can try it.”
“Thanks, I will.”
I try but it doesn’t make any difference and despite the fact that I have no court cases to answer, no bad debts, a full time job, a bank and building society account (both in the black), a biometric British passport and a full UK driving licence, I’m out in the cold. And all because of an aged data entry mistake that doesn’t even exist anymore. I'm 'Tuttle', not 'Buttle', right?
It was probably this very error which prevented me from successfully applying for a credit balance transfer, to a 0% credit card, to buy time on an emergency washing machine purchase last year. The crazy thing that time was the card was offered to me by my own building society who I've held an account with for over 25 years! What the hell are those people doing in there behind the glass, playing Tiddlywinks?
Just for the hell of it, I decide to pose as my partner and go through the registration process again. No problem this time, it all goes through, even though I'm now really faking it. I even get to buy the currency, logging in as Jane but using my debit card to pay. It makes no sense at all. It’s like that ‘oh, money, yes please’ moment, and suddenly all is forgiven. No wonder the system gets played, really.
