Tuesday, 20 December 2011

I Am Who I Am

Last night, I finally opened the folder with the title "The Plan".  Amazingly, I've done most of the things in it.  Also, most of the things in my pink-paged filofax and on odd scraps of paper.  I'm not sure how this happened.  A sort of efficiency borne of complete chaos.

And then I tried to redirect my mail, online.  It seemed quite straightforward until it said my payment was unsuccessful.  Twice.  My bank has been known to freeze my card on a whim so I called them.  No, everything was fine and they had authorised payment to Royal Mail.

This morning I speak to what is amusingly called Royal Mail Customer Services and am told that I failed an identity check.  A what, now?  At no point did the online form ask for anything that could be verified - like my passport number, my NI number, my driving licence number.  No.  They used Experian for checking identity.  And clearly I'm not me.

I managed to contain my rage just enough that I did not blister the poor girl with acres of swearing.  Which meant that I just went very English and said "THIS IS RIDICULOUS" a lot and demanded to lodge a complaint.  "Over 50% of online applications are successful", she reassured me.  I advised that this was not much comfort when I was being treated like a criminal.

There is nothing more likely to bring out shrill indignance than having one's identity questioned.  I would not have minded if the process had been a little more sensible and transparent - but the online system told me payment had failed and it had not.  Clearly this is code for "You lying little shit, you're not Jane Capon."

Well I am.  You twatfaced sons of horsemongers.

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