ChristopherWhite.info

Finally, halfway through my diploma, I’ve managed to sort out a loan so I can actually pay for the damn thing.

To recap: Barclays dicked me around for months, requesting utility and phone bills for my parents’ address but in my name, which I obviously didn’t have. This despite the fact that I’ve banked with Barclays for coming up six years and they should know perfectly well that I am who I say I am. (They also gave me a phone number that they claimed was for their Career Development Loan office, but was actually a helpline for KY Warming Jelly, and sent me this shockingly infantile letter about my unused savings account.)

So when Mr Blair next says anything about how businesses have so much information about us that is doesn’t matter if the government does too (the facts that 1. we voluntarily allow businesses to have this information and 2. they’re far more trustworthy notwithstanding) then I can say “Ah, but clearly they don’t…”.

Now the Co-op bank have been absolutely delightful, and approved my loan within two weeks without me having to do anything bar fill in two forms. They have, however, mis-spelled my name on my new bank card. If they can’t get it right, do you really think the National Identity clowns will?

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A while back a lady in the bank talked me into opening a savings account. I’ve never put any money in it, so this week Barclays sent me a letter to remind me of its existence - possibly the most patronising and childish letter I’ve ever seen.

Read. Weep.

(You’ll probably have to zoom in a bit when you open that. Sorry.)

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One of the numbers I was given by my local branch of Barclays for their Career Development Loans office in Liverpool was 0845 6090 080.

I’ve just called it to try to speak to someone only to be greeted with a recorded message that begins: “Thank you for calling the KY Warming helpline.”

Toto, I don’t think we’re talking to Barclays anymore…

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Having “worked” in the Welsh Assembly for six months, I’d really started to buy into the notion that the State is especially incapable of organisation. Between one person replying to an email whose subject header contained the words “Free Event” to ask how much the event cost, and another replying to an email stating that the correct version of a particular document was attached to ask which was the correct version of that particular document, perhaps I had good reason.

But then there’s the businesses.

Acorn Recruitment is only marginally more competent than the Job Centre; they physically can’t process a half-day holiday, and once lost a timesheet that I’d actually taken to the office and handed to them.

Despite Andy and I having lived in our flat for two months, Keylet still haven’t given him a front door key, or either of us a key for the mailbox outside. Lucky for us, it’s stuffed full of takeaway flyers and the postman has to put everything in the main letterbox.

I assumed it was wise, therefore, to just not trust any company with the word ‘agency’ in their name or description of what they do (recruitment ~, letting ~). Now there’s Barclay’s Bank, too.

Applying for a Career Development Loan is like pulling teeth. Actually, it’s worse: it’s like pulling Excalibur out of that rock, and I’m clearly not King Arthur. The first bit was easy - apply over the phone, give them a load of details. (Had to pay for the call though - clearly a racket with the phone companies. Maybe Gibson should direct his ire at BT…)

Now they need to verify my identity: they need a utility bill and phone bill with my home address and name on. Oddly enough, the electric and phone at my parents’ address aren’t registered in my name - so I don’t have them, and I’m a bit stuck. On the phone trying to explain this to them was possibly the most pointless thing I’ve done ever - were it not for the accent I swear the guy I spoke to would’ve failed the Turing test.

The worst part? I’ve banked with Barclays for five years - they know perfectly well who I am. Un-necessary bureaucracy isn’t the sole preserve of public services.

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