He Isn't Heavy, He's My Brother.
A year ago, my Brother Fred moved. I had his post re-directed for one year. It wasn’t easy as there are a lot of things, they wanted to show he was he; Fred didn’t have most of them. Fred don’t have a driving licence, bank card, cheque book, passport, photo I.D. etc. but eventually through bills from both addresses, including council tax, electric, gas and water and common sense, the transaction took place. When I paid for his re-direct mail by postal order, I could ‘relax’ for that was one less thing for me to worry about.
The year quickly went by, and before I knew it months has pasted and now all his post was once again going to his old address. Fred hadn’t received a letter to say the year is coming to an end, “Do you want to renew?”
I went to the post office to get a re-direct form, but when I saw the very long queue, I turned around and left the post office. A few days later, I again joined the now familiar queue, and when it was my turn I said to the Cashier, “My Brother moved over a year ago, his mail was re-directed for twelve months and now I would like to have it re-directed again for another year, he has mental problems.” She was lovely, and gave me two forms, one was for private/business and the other one for Special Circumstances.
She told me, “He will need one from this section and one from the second section.” I replied, “He is a recluse, he hasn’t got a driving licence, passport, bank card, cheque book, photo I.D…..” She said, “Fill the form in, get your Brother to sign it,” I said, “OK.”
I looked at both forms, and I didn’t want to waste time so I chose to have the Special Circumstances one, so I asked my Brother to sign it. I went back to the post office and saw the same lovely post lady. She said, “Have you got Power of Attorney?” I said, “Not exactly, but if you look in his bank book here, under special lights at his bank you will see my Signature,” She said, “Go over there, and fill in THIS form,” I said, “Do I have to join the queue again?” She said, “No, come straight back to me.” I then said, “What about my Brother’s signature on the new form?” She raised her eyebrows, and I knew exactly what she meant.
I turned aside from the now quiet part of the closed, side of the post office, forms, Fred’s cash, documents spread out on the large wooden oak table, I filled in the form and signed his name. I gathered everything and went straight back to the post office lady. She looked at the new form and said to me, “You will need a bill from your Brother’s old address that is six months old,” I said, “But he has lived in his new flat for over twelve months!” She said, “OK, I tell you what, go to the post office where they only give out parcels, that haven’t been delivered, as it’s their Company that your Brother had his re-direction mail with, they WILL be able to help you, but now they only open between 08.00am to 09.00am.” I had no intention of joining a queue at that ridicules time of the day.
Yesterday, I woke at 05.00am and Fred’s mail going to the wrong address was my first thought. I decided as I’d woken up so early, I’d might as well go. I got all Fred’s money, documents and arrived at the post office 08.15am the queue wasn’t as long as I thought it might be, after thirty minutes, I was inside. I didn’t get very far, she said, “I can’t help you,” I said, “If you just look on your computer you will see he is your Customer, I just need you to update it and I can pay you.” She repeated herself and said, “Ring this number, they will tell you what to do.” I said, “OK,” And went back home. What a waste of a morning, I could have been chilling at home before I went to work. I had no intention of phoning the post office Company, no intention!
Two hours later I rang. She said, after she had said, “He needs a bank card, driving licence, passport, cheque photo I.D.……” I said, “He is a recluse with mental health, he has none of those.” Finally, she said, “You need to write a letter to the Senior Administrator and tell him why we should consider your Brother for a re-direction of his post for twelve months, and add that he has no email, photo I.D. bank card, cheque book, passport and he will consider it.” I said, “OK.”
I wrote the letter, and went back to the post office and joined the very long queue, I saw the same lovely post person, as she had said, to me, “Come back to me, I want to know what happens.” I told her all about it and added, “If he were not my Brother, I would have given up and not bothered,” It was a Freepost mail, but I always sent my post, Registered Signed for, first class.
My letter should have arrived this morning.