The Dreaded Pension

Having recently turned 65, I naievely assumed that our gracious government would be contacting me along the lines of, "Congratulations, Hugh, old boy, you've reached retirement age at last. After a lifetime of dutiful payment of tax, you are now entitled to your reward." Well, that was silly of me, wasn't it? So I decided to take the matter into my own hands.

Despite repidly approaching dinosaur status, I felt I am modern enough to apply online (!!) and duly found the appropriate site. I began filling in the required information until I found a question I couldn't answer withour further research. As I use the library's computer, this meant logging out and starting all over again. Nothing would let me move on to see if there were other questions that needed investigation, so that was that.

On my second attempt I did a lot better and eventually was given a reference number and informed that I had successfully applied and would receive the relevant papers in the mail soon. So much for the paperless society.

To my surprise, the papers did duly turn up. Now among other things, I had to prove I was born. So onto another website to apply for a birth certificate from the Victorian government. This meant more waiting, which is a concern, because the pension will be paid from the date of application (not one's actual birthday) BUT ONLY IF ALL THE PAPERWORK IS DONE AND PRESENTED WITHIN A FORTNIGHT. Fat chance.

Finally, I'd filled in everything, had all the relevant documents - passport, birth certificate, driver's licence, bank statement, etc - so now there was a phone no to ring for an appointment.

"Yes, Mr O'Keefe, your relevant Centrelink is at Darlinghurst, but there are no appointments available for three months - but that's not unusual." This last comment would surely not endear him to his employers? "However, you can have a walk-in appointment."

"Oh, what's that?"

"You just turn up and information will put you in the queue."

"That doesn't sound like an appointment to me." None the less, that's what I did, yesterday.

I got to Information after only ten minutes and explained I was applying for the Old Age Pension (oops, in these politically correct times, the Age Pension). He promptly gave me forms but I pointed out that I had already filled in the form.

"Oh, where did you get that?" he asked with some surprise. (A little fat ethnic quean with an infuriatingly soft voice and a granny shawl draped about him.)

"In the mail," I said, which seemed to confuse him somewhat. However, he told me to take a seat and someone would be with me shortly.

Forty minutes later (I'd brought a good book) a voice said "Mr O'Keefe?" and Phil took me to his work station. He was charming, helpful and apologetic, but that wasn't much help. I informed him I'd applied online and here was my application and supporting documents. "But you haven't filled in an application," he said. I found this somewhat confusing, but now that I had a real person at a real computer, I wasn't of a mind to argue. So he got me an application form. In the course of filling it in, I realised that this was all the stuff I'd entered on the online application. He said, "Well, it's safer to have it in writing." Again, I wasn't arguing.

Meanwhile, as I reapplied, he looked at the first form I'd filled in and said, "They've sent you the wrong form." Well, it didn't say Dole, it didn't say Job Seeker, it said Age Pension Application, but there you go. So he went off again to get the RIGHT FORM.

I don't know if any of you have spent time in Centrelink, but they do a great show. While all this was going on, a very short, very old, very irate Aboriginal woman stormed into the interview area demandingt money, using buckets of foul language, including frequent references to having sexual intercourse with one's female parent. No one but me seemed to find this unusual, so I stayed Mum. Also, when one of the other interviewers left her station to ask some question of my Phil, the two rather grubby applicants at her station went into a deep and serious pash session which wasn't abandoned until their interviewer returned. I'd rate the whole place MA.

So now, after an hour with Phil, we had abandoned the online original application and done a written one. We had also torn up the original written application and filled in the right one. Now to enter it into the computer - hah!

Would Mister Computer accept this stuff? No way. So a a phone call to the hot line, a ten minute wait, and eventually all was duly entered - I think.

But one last thing. I hadn't brought my Uiversity payslips (nowhere on any form, electronic or otherwise had these been asked for). So tomorrow (Phil doesn't do Thursdays)I turn up with these, march straight through the office (much like my indiginous sister, but more softly) and slip these on to Phil's desk. And wait to see what happens next.