Ah the joys of Britain. Given I’m hunting for work and hence will be paying the large quantities of money that Gordon Brown considers a suitable tax I’m [vainly] trying to get a National Insurance number. As we’d been hanging around in Glasgow I’d thought I’d get it sorted early, as it has a reputation for being a time consuming process. And so I called the Glasgow office.
“Hello!” I cried. “I need a National Insurance number”. Unfortunately it was not to be. Not unless I had documentary proof that I was job hunting anyway e.g. a letter from an agency or a job offer.
So now we jump forward to London. I look at the JobCentre/Customs websites and find the appropriate number. I call them up – “Where are you?” they ask. “Wraysbury, TW19″ comes the reply, Wraysbury being but a mile away. “Well, you’ve got the wrong number. We only do some parts of Wraysbury. You probably need Woking, but I’m not sure”. I point out that the website said that they could help me, only to have it made clear that the website is wrong.
Following this I have a complete lack of success in getting through to Woking, and so I drop into a JobCentre near Tottenham Court Road. They are actually somewhat helpful, giving me a piece of paper with a number to call and admitting that the process has changed over the last 5 weeks or so. They also helpfully point out that if I don’t call dead on opening time I may as well give up for the day. And so at 9am the next morning I call and wait on hold, being charged for the privilege, for 20 minutes. “Where are you?” comes the voice down the line. (You can see where this is going, can’t you?) “TW19″ I reply, my heart a flutter. “Oh, we only do up to TW17 or for those who have a current job in London. You’ll need to call….”.
As you can imagine, I’m just a little stressed at this point…
Eventually I get through to the next number, which turns out to be South London. As you can imagine they redirect me again, this time to Hounslow. But they do furnish me with information as to what I need to bring, in particular with regards to address verification. Fate is obviously on my side this morning as five minutes later a bank statement arrives. Unfortunately the dog (who gets tired after a 200 metre walk), in an unprecedented display of agression, rips it in half before it flutters to the ground.
And so, here I am. Hounslow either rings endlessly or is engaged and so at least I have a goal while I wait to hear back about interviews. And I wonder if I should have just entered the country illegally and worked under the table. It’s probably much less effort.
