Money Management: UK Banking Difficulties.
| Heart | 0 | Comment | 0 | Link |
Christmas is over and another year has begun: time to get the ball rolling concerning renewing my passport, which expires in February. I've got a phobia though, not about spiders, the usual thing people take fright over. No my phobia is filling in forms. The form for a new passport is fortunately a brief double-fold two page afraid. No pages of box-ticking and difficult to answer prying questions, where you scratch your head wondering what you'll put here, unlike a form for opening a bank account in the UK. Banks here make you feel like you're up to something unlawful. There's an incredible number of questions to answer to their satisfaction; stringent proof of identity; proof of income and where you're employed; difficult to answer when I'm not employed as such. And it doesn't help nothing that the bank I'm trying to open with, I already have an account with, since 1984 in fact. But that account only allows me to pocess an ATM capable bankcard. Not much use in the modern world where air-tickets and increasingly ferry-tickets are bought online. And there's accommodation booking online: before Christmas, on arriving in London I found out to my distress, for insurance cover all budget backpacker-hostels only except guests that either have pre-booked and paid online, or pay in-person by card. There's also online bike shops and other retailers necessary for cycle-touring, making a debit/credit card a must.
Since the nineteen-nineties until recently I lived in Norway. Back then I opened a bank account the second day after arriving in the country on producing my passport for photocopying and a letter from my then new employer; that was enough to prove who I am; and shortly after they issued me with a debit card, my very first bankcard (previously I paid for everything with cash).
The internet was only in it's infancy then. Concepts like shopping online for bike related gear, or airline tickets, making in most instances a saving in comparison to buying from a virtual bike shop, or respectively from a travel agent was perhaps unheard of: the first time I travelled to South America in 2004 for example, I used a travel agent, and I only bought bike-bits online toward the end of the noughties. But, since being based back in the UK, modern technology has been beyond my reach due to ludicrously close to impossible to obtain UK bank accounts.
I mentioned phobia of form filling earlier because I perhaps don't pocess self confidence, or self esteem; a more assertive prospective bank customer wouldn't put up with it. I on the other hand feel powerless, having been put off by form filling and have been to every bank in the vicinity, being pushed from pillar to post so to speak without any joy.
Over the new year I've been spending much time in the library in the local town. I call it the office because I sit at a desk using their wifi to finish off my previous journal. Today I ride to the office in a headwind, calling at the bank to pay some bills and inquire about the possibility of a debit card: notice the subservient tone: please, would you be so kind to let me have an account in your bank. The bank personnel aren't the problem though, they're always helpful: it's the rules regarding opening new accounts from headquarters that are the problem. The woman behind the counter with a Philys name badge comments on the windy day and when I mention an account with a debit card, smiles with an air of optimism and puts me down for an interview next Thursday, the fifteenth of January.
On the day at the appointed time, I'm ushered into an office and take a seat opposite a lady called Frances. She is empathic, making me the interviewee feel at ease, mentioning when my 1965 date of birth comes up on an online bank account application form "I see you have a big birthday this year" meaning the landmark fiftieth, and says she herself will celebrate her fiftieth too this year. And goes on to talk about where she has been on family holidays when I fill her in on my traveling lifestyle. I give her my passport for photocopying and then the form asks for other identification, such as a driving licence, or electoral registration, neither of which I can provide. I remember I've a letter from the Inland Revenue in my bag, so fish that out, which is excepted and she goes and photocopies it. The only concern she has is, the address has my initial "J" for John, instead of "S" for Sean. I explain that I was christened John, but thereafter have been called Sean. But the online form won't go further until I can produce a letter with full name "John" in the address.
On arriving home I rummage through old letters and paper work, but find nothing addressed to me as John. There is my birth certificate, I asked could I submit it as proof; no, it has to be something other than that. I give up. Then later my mother who had asked what I was looking for, turns up an old medical card addressed "John" dated 1986. The next day at the bank I submit the medical card to be photocopied. However Frances isn't there and since then I've been waiting for her to get back to me.
Edit: Sick of waiting I call in the bank. The woman behind the counter was apologetic about the delay and difficulty opening an account, claiming their hands are tied, that they can't except the medical card with "John" the addressee. She asks for something else, suggesting my passport, but they already have a photocopy of the old passport. I say I'm waiting for a new passport and she asks will it have my name as John. I reply it'll be Sean, but will have John my christened name underneath. I'm very annoyed, as I see no end to the difficulty the bank is putting me under. I wish to travel to South America later this year, but how can I the way things stand. How am I suppose to buy a ticket: go to ATMs over four or five days taking out the maximum daily amount until I've accumulated a couple of thousand, then travel to an airport and pay for a ticket in cash, while buying online will cost me considerably less for the same ticket. Luckily I've still my Norwegian bank account and it's looking most likely that I'll have to update it, the card having expired.
The rest of the day is a dreary grey and rainy January afternoon, compounding the mood of melancholy and helplessness: a prisoner of UK banking red tape that won't allow me the tools to use my money: to do what I want in life. This is soul crushing. I don't hold out mush hope I'll ever have a proper bank account in this country. Why. They ask for a passport as means of identification in my last contact with them. They already have photocopied my old passport and when that wasn't enough, I produced the letter from the Inland Revenue, which because of the initial "J" for John (my christened name), I've unwittingly opened up a whole new can of worms. Surely the computer boffins behind the application form can see pass the fact that some one opening a bank account with unlawful intent, using falsified identification, wouldn't then shoot themselves in the foot by producing a document with a different name. Criminals by nature are circumspect, mindful. When my new passport comes with "John" underneath my usual name Sean, I can't see that it'll make any difference. There'll be something else required. Another hoop to leap through.
| Rate this entry's writing | Heart | 0 |
| Comment on this entry | Comment | 0 |