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Helplines were sent to try us
Having moved, I need a replacement driving licence. Years ago this was straightforward; all that was necessary was to fill in sections of the old one and send it to the DVLA. Times have changed. I have to fill in another form and I need to prove my identity. The photograph of myself that is now required isn't good enough even though it is signed by someone who's known me for many years. I have to send my birth certificate as well because I have no passport. I am reluctant to do this because, if the Post Office doesn't lose it, the DVLA will.
Some post offices will check applications and ID documents to save having to send the latter with the applications. I phoned the number given on the instructions accompanying the form to find out which was the nearest PO to me that did this. What a business that was. I think the PO get the prize for the most frustrating helpline I have encountered so far. Helpline is not the word I'd use.
The phone is answered by a recorded voice telling me that my call will be monitored for quality purposes. I doubt that; it's to discourage callers from swearing. Another recorded voice tells me to press one if I want one thing or to wait if I want something else. I wait. Another recorded voice then gives me a choice of three or four things. I press a number though am doubtful if it's the correct one. None of the options seem relevant. Yet another recorded voice gives me a list of five options, none of which seem relevant, so I press nothing. The voice apologises for not recognising my choice, so I press a number. Music plays and eventually a woman speaks.
I ask for the nearest post office to me that will check my driving licence application. She tells me that I need the helpline and will put me through. More music. Another woman speaks; I ask the same question; she tells me I have dialled the wrong number and will put me through to the correct one. More music. Eventually another woman answers and tells me which PO will check my application.
I catch the train to the town and queue in the PO. The woman at the counter tells me that the service checks only passports. I have to send my birth certificate to the DVLA.
I catch the next train home. No one collected or stamped my tickets so I wonder if I could use them again.
My trip wasn't entirely wasted as I borrowed a book about DIY from the library.
Thought for today
The English approach to ideas is not to kill them, but to let them die of neglect.
Jeremy Paxman (1950 - ) The English: a portrait of a people, 1998
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To date 1 Comment(s)
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Flighty
/ Website
(1.9.06 22:36)
Things like that do my blood pressure no good at all. I do wonder why it's all got like this. The amount of wasted time and money most be beyond belief. Right rant over!
Have a good weekend.
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