Celebration

The lovely folk at BlipCentral sent a message that today would be a Blip Milestone. Accordingly, I took a photo of a celebratory glitterball, with bells to ring, to add to the jollity.
But the day was not so successful. So, do excuse me, but I am having a good-old rant against bureaucracy.

More than 68 years ago, my beloved parents gave me two Christian names then called me by the second one, just as they had done with my two big brothers. This didn't matter a hoot to anyone - you were who you called yourself and that was it - until everything came under the control of The Computer. After that everything with a whiff of officialdom has had to refer to the first name and completely ignore the second as though it never existed, because although Very Clever In Every Other Respect, The Computer cannot cope with more than one for the same person. It has never heard, let alone used, the term Alias (or even AKA).
Today we had to trek to an office on the other side of town to present our ID's in the form of passports and Council Tax notice and I was obliged to provide a written a statement that I am both the persons referred to (I did add a little apology that my parents had not forseen, when I was registered all those years ago, that this difficulty might arise). We did not meet the man who had summmoned us to his place of work as he had not given his surname, but another employee, who guaranteed that our paperwork would be processed this very day. And we went on our way, disappointed by the rain which spoiled our plans, and went home.

But that was not the end. Oh, no; we received another phone call from the mysterious, elusive David, who informed us that the lady we had seen had not followed procedure and I was duly directed to take my passport to our bank (no longer conveniently on the corner two minutes' walk away, but a mile or so down the road) for them to photocopy it themselves, as she should have done, rather than accept our photocopy without verification (hold on, we said, we had our passports with us and we were there in front of her, she could tell they were ours). But, obligingly, we drove down.

Did my travails end there? Of course not. It was now fifteen minutes to closing time and it transpired that a passport was insufficient proof of identity and I required another. There I was stuck. As I told them all along, I don't use the full name, so have very little evidence of it. I did consider offering a DNA sample but thought better of it. After a moment of consternation I remembered my driving licence tucked into the passport holder and presented it with a triumphant flourish; all the details were there in black and white (or pink and green, if you must). But they cannot accept a paper version, had I not the plastic one? Of course not, why would I pay for a plastic one when I have a valid paper one? The ever-calm assistant took advice from the bank manager, photocopied the licence and told me that they would send the copies as directed and they might be acceptable, but could not guarantee that further requests would not be made. If I had not a passport or driving licence I don't know what I could have offered.

Do not, dear blippers, suggest I change my name, drop the first one, or take any other action. That is my name, it is mine and none shall sully it. I am just fed up with being required to jump through hoops to prove who I am.
 
So all in all, I don't feel very celebratory. But I'll probably feel better tomorrow...