Slightly alarming letter from Social Services today, telling me that my Direct Payments Monitoring Return had been due at the end of July and that if I did not submit it within 14 days I would be in Trouble.
Quick call to the office who sent the letter, turns out it's a form that I have to send in with some bank statements and whatnot, to show that I am properly using the Direct Payments money. They sent it to me at the beginning of June. It didn't arrive. Happily, they believed me that it didn't arrive and are going to send another copy.
Much relieved, I decided to pull out my big Social Services folder (when you have brainfog but have to deal with reams of paperwork for government organisations, you develop excellent administrative habits) to make sure that I had all the bank statements and timesheets and suchlike to hand. I felt happy and confident in my filing system - all the bits of paper were grouped together in their little sections, and in date order within those sections - when I spotted alarm bell number two. One of the statements was missing. The one that would have been sent at... can you guess?... the beginning of June.
I'm not even going to bother with a rant about Royal Mail. There is a persistent problem here with mail (particularly birthday cards) not arriving, packages being left unattended on the doorstep, you name it, and all we ever get told is that nothing can or will be done unless the item of mail was sent by a Signed For or Special Delivery service and we are able to get the sender to provide the receipt for this service.
What I am going to do, is praise the customer service of the bank. I phoned the local branch. A person picked up within a few rings, no automated system. The person spoke good English and offered me two options - I could have a printout of the transactions for the missing period sent for free, or I could have a duplicate statement sent, but that would cost £5. I explained what I needed it for and asked what she thought I should do. She offered that she could send the printout, free, but stamp it with the bank stamp and the date stamp, and then if Social Services said that wasn't good enough, then I could pay the fee and get a 'proper' statement. Whole conversation took less than five minutes. Hurrah.
Showing posts with label postal service. Show all posts
Showing posts with label postal service. Show all posts
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Sunday, May 10, 2009
Isn't this nice?
Things are ticking over really well at the moment.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
The main Thing I want to tell the world about is something I've wanted to say for a couple of months now but haven't dared in case it turned out to be temporary. But it's looking more and more permanent, so here we go: I am no longer actively seeking different employment.
The reason for this is that my role at work has been sort of shuffled. In a good way. The company I work for are doing really quite well at the moment, so we have a lot of orders being placed, lots of stock coming in and packages going out. The 'role creep' kind of started with an increase in the number of packages that had to be sent Signed For or Special Delivery, so instead of spending five minutes a day sitting in the office carefully writing addresses into books and putting barcode stickers onto packages, it was more like half an hour or so. Then we got an arrangement with ParcelForce for the increased numbers of high-value overseas packages, and of course such packages often require more detailed customs declarations than a single CD does, as well as the information having to be correctly entered into the online system. From there it was a short step to assigning me other "office based" tasks - the increased volume of orders and stock throughput means there's a lot more admin to be done and much of it doesn't require a knowledge of classical music, just a reasonable ability with computers and some basic admin skills, which I've already got.
Which brought me to a stage where, of my average four and a half hour working day, I spend about one hour doing ParcelForce and Signed For packages, two hours doing other admin tasks in the office, one hour helping pick and pack CDs in the Despatch room, and half an hour sorting out the documentation for the mail sacks to be collected by Royal Mail at the end of each day. I have a variety of tasks, some more challenging than others, all of which I am capable of performing, and some of which I quite enjoy (for a given value of workplace enjoyment). I am working for a company who took me on as a disabled person (but not because I was a disabled person) and have been 100% supportive of my needs for the eighteen months I've been there. I get to use my brain and yet I also get to wear jeans and trainers to work.
I was applying for other jobs because nice as the company was I didn't want to spend the rest of my life mindlessly putting CDs in boxes. Now it appears I've won the best of both worlds.
And then, cherry on the cake...
One of my regular tasks is to deal with "deletions". This is when a customer orders a CD that we don't have in stock, so we ask a record label supplier to send us a copy, and then they tell us that the title has been deleted from their catalogue and they don't have any copies left. My job is then to remove the deleted title from our system, remove the deleted title from the customer's order, refund the customer's credit card, and email the customer to apologise and explain what has happened. It's a disappointing email. Which is why I find it surprising that a healthy proportion of customers actually bother to email back. Not in a ranty way either, just along the lines of "okay, thanks for letting me know," which for some reason makes me feel really happy - I think it's simply the idea that people have been bothered to be so polite.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
It's that time of year
A little song about Santa.
First of all, a big thank you to all the people who left such supportive comments on my last, rather depressing, post. Judicious application of cups of tea, hugs from Steve, a Chinese takeaway, a DVD (Quick review: Colour of Magic, I liked it, David Jason does a cracking job as Rincewind but I can't help wondering what will happen if/when they do Mort, which requires Rincewind and Albert to simultaneously be in the same room), and a good night's sleep have seen me back onto an even keel.
Now for some good news: my laptop, my gorgeous shiny laptop, is resurrected.
Last weekend some sort of particularly nasty... thing... triggered and wriggled its pernicious little way all through my system. One of the specifically nasty features was that it blocked access to the sites for my anti-virus and my anti-adware/spyware updates. It did something to the way my computer accessed google as well, so that clicking any results links from a google search would take me instead to sites for more nasties. The computer would freeze and/or turn off completely and every reboot pushed the nastiness deeper into the system.
Steve did his best with it but it was bedded right in there. Eventually we took the decision to scrub the computer completely and start right over from a fresh install of Windows. After all, we had all the original disks and codes and whatnot, plus a backup of most of my files on an external drive. The backup wasn't perhaps as recent as it should have been, but I know all the important files from this year were on there - all I'd be missing would be a few pictures, half-finished blog posts, savegames and stuff.
And lo, for on the third day it rose again, and here I am, trying to get back into typing on a full-size keyboard (Quick review of eeePC: Handy. Functional. Light. Portable. Small. Very small. But bigger than a phone. On the whole I liked it. But, how can I say this... it's an ideal secondary computer) and desperately trying to remember my passwords for the sites on which I was logged in permanently. I've got most of them now, although I haven't done any shopping yet.
One slight hitch - you know how I was all relaxed because, hey, backups of most of my files on an external drive, nothing to worry about! Well it could help if I could find the aforementioned external drive. It's about the size of a cigarette packet and is somewhere in this house. I'm fairly certain it's not in the kitchen, toilet or bathroom. Unfortunately that's not helpful as this is a three-bedroomed house containing two geeks and therefore any amount of likely-looking wires, defunct remote controls, old mobile phones and various other oojamaflips which get your hopes up but turn out to be Not What You Were Looking For.
Other than that I really need to get on with my Christmas shopping. I think we've already passed the last guaranteed date for getting stuff shipped from the US to the UK before Christmas. I'm also now horribly aware that although within the UK, the last date for which the Post Office guarantees delivery of packages before Christmas is something like 20th December, that doesn't mean by extension that it's okay to order stuff on the 19th and expect it to arrive on time, as it has to be processed first. For our place, depending on factors like how many people we have working, how efficiently our deliveries arrive, and so on, we can process about 150 normal-sized orders in a day. If, on the 19th, we suddenly have 400 orders to process... well, we'll do our best, work overtime, draft in as many extra hands as we can fit in the room, but the room is of finite size and the day is of finite length, so it's likely some people will end up disappointed. Now is the time for online Christmas shopping if you want to be sure of getting the things you need without a panic.
Despite having no idea what to get anyone, I was all super-efficient and made sure people can have an idea of what to get me and a fuss-free way of getting it by making an Amazon wish list. But now I'm worrying that it was a little bit... off... when Mum said "so what sort of things are you after?" to respond by emailing an Amazon link - it feels like making demands. I did follow it up with a more personal email explaining that it's just some ideas and I don't care whether I get all/none/some of the stuff on the list. But even so I can't help thinking that a handwritten letter to Santa, referencing my intention of compliance with the "being good" clause for another year, with pictures cut out of assorted catalogues and stuck on with pritt stick to indicate the Things I Would Like Please, would have been more acceptable.
Actually that's another thing I'd like - a book of etiquette and household tips for such things as Making Christmas Lists As A Grown-up, Avoiding Being Healed At Dinner Parties, and Extracting Loved Ones From The Duvet On Cold Winter Mornings When They Have To Go To Work. I have Nanny Ogg's Cookbook which has much valuable insight, and VideoJug which offers a lot of practical help, but I still often feel like I'm floundering with things like this.
First of all, a big thank you to all the people who left such supportive comments on my last, rather depressing, post. Judicious application of cups of tea, hugs from Steve, a Chinese takeaway, a DVD (Quick review: Colour of Magic, I liked it, David Jason does a cracking job as Rincewind but I can't help wondering what will happen if/when they do Mort, which requires Rincewind and Albert to simultaneously be in the same room), and a good night's sleep have seen me back onto an even keel.
Now for some good news: my laptop, my gorgeous shiny laptop, is resurrected.
Last weekend some sort of particularly nasty... thing... triggered and wriggled its pernicious little way all through my system. One of the specifically nasty features was that it blocked access to the sites for my anti-virus and my anti-adware/spyware updates. It did something to the way my computer accessed google as well, so that clicking any results links from a google search would take me instead to sites for more nasties. The computer would freeze and/or turn off completely and every reboot pushed the nastiness deeper into the system.
Steve did his best with it but it was bedded right in there. Eventually we took the decision to scrub the computer completely and start right over from a fresh install of Windows. After all, we had all the original disks and codes and whatnot, plus a backup of most of my files on an external drive. The backup wasn't perhaps as recent as it should have been, but I know all the important files from this year were on there - all I'd be missing would be a few pictures, half-finished blog posts, savegames and stuff.
And lo, for on the third day it rose again, and here I am, trying to get back into typing on a full-size keyboard (Quick review of eeePC: Handy. Functional. Light. Portable. Small. Very small. But bigger than a phone. On the whole I liked it. But, how can I say this... it's an ideal secondary computer) and desperately trying to remember my passwords for the sites on which I was logged in permanently. I've got most of them now, although I haven't done any shopping yet.
One slight hitch - you know how I was all relaxed because, hey, backups of most of my files on an external drive, nothing to worry about! Well it could help if I could find the aforementioned external drive. It's about the size of a cigarette packet and is somewhere in this house. I'm fairly certain it's not in the kitchen, toilet or bathroom. Unfortunately that's not helpful as this is a three-bedroomed house containing two geeks and therefore any amount of likely-looking wires, defunct remote controls, old mobile phones and various other oojamaflips which get your hopes up but turn out to be Not What You Were Looking For.
Other than that I really need to get on with my Christmas shopping. I think we've already passed the last guaranteed date for getting stuff shipped from the US to the UK before Christmas. I'm also now horribly aware that although within the UK, the last date for which the Post Office guarantees delivery of packages before Christmas is something like 20th December, that doesn't mean by extension that it's okay to order stuff on the 19th and expect it to arrive on time, as it has to be processed first. For our place, depending on factors like how many people we have working, how efficiently our deliveries arrive, and so on, we can process about 150 normal-sized orders in a day. If, on the 19th, we suddenly have 400 orders to process... well, we'll do our best, work overtime, draft in as many extra hands as we can fit in the room, but the room is of finite size and the day is of finite length, so it's likely some people will end up disappointed. Now is the time for online Christmas shopping if you want to be sure of getting the things you need without a panic.
Despite having no idea what to get anyone, I was all super-efficient and made sure people can have an idea of what to get me and a fuss-free way of getting it by making an Amazon wish list. But now I'm worrying that it was a little bit... off... when Mum said "so what sort of things are you after?" to respond by emailing an Amazon link - it feels like making demands. I did follow it up with a more personal email explaining that it's just some ideas and I don't care whether I get all/none/some of the stuff on the list. But even so I can't help thinking that a handwritten letter to Santa, referencing my intention of compliance with the "being good" clause for another year, with pictures cut out of assorted catalogues and stuck on with pritt stick to indicate the Things I Would Like Please, would have been more acceptable.
Actually that's another thing I'd like - a book of etiquette and household tips for such things as Making Christmas Lists As A Grown-up, Avoiding Being Healed At Dinner Parties, and Extracting Loved Ones From The Duvet On Cold Winter Mornings When They Have To Go To Work. I have Nanny Ogg's Cookbook which has much valuable insight, and VideoJug which offers a lot of practical help, but I still often feel like I'm floundering with things like this.
Sunday, September 07, 2008
St Ebeneezer
As the esteemed blogger Scaryduck (I am not worthy, etc) recently observed, St Ebeneezer's Day - "the first day that Christmas displays appear in shops and public houses" - has well and truly occurred.
Speaking from the trenches of mail-order dispatch of classical music, I can confirm that the rush has started. The volume of orders is increasing, and the orders being placed have more than a sprinkling of titles like "Concertos and Cantatas for Christmas", not to mention Bach's Christmas Oratorio (available on CD, SACD and DVD from just about any record label you care to name).
I'm guessing that quite a few of the people who read this blog are likely to do at least part of their shopping online, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to make a few generic requests and give a few pointers, on behalf of all those dispatchers for small businesses out there who remember last Christmas and are fearing this one.
... actually, thinking about it, this may work better as a series. Other readers on the frontline should feel free to make additions in the comments.
So onwards, with Part One - Placing Your Order.
Fill out the form properly.
It's not really a difficult form. Put your postcode in the postcode box and your address in the address boxes. If you don't know your address and postcode, go and ask a responsible adult.
For each new line, use a new line of the address box - don't just type in twenty spaces, or half a dozen full stops. You can click in each box, or you can use the TAB key to scroll through them. While you're at it, why not let the shift key enter your life? It's not just there to make the keyboard look nice.
"As Above" is not an address. Nor is "as previous order," as I can't actually see your previous orders unless I stop everything and start rootling around in the database. And please, for pity's sake, don't think you're being clever by asterisking out the first few letters of each line of your name and address "for security". We need your proper address in order to send you the things you have ordered. The postman will not take packages to "** ***ley Road", okay?
You should also know that it's not "the computer" that fixes these things so that you get your goods. It's me, putting my Stalker hat on with the help of Google in a way that would probably have you feeling quite uncomfortable if you knew about it. You may also like to remember that all the time I spend correcting your address, I'm not shipping orders - you're holding up the queue!
Contact details
We're not asking for the fun of it, nor are we likely to sell your data. If we've said that we won't pass your details on, then we really won't. It's one of those big business/small business things. A big business is only ever about the money. A small business, on the other hand, is personal, and all of its employees are going to be trying to provide the sort of service we would like to recieve from others. So we won't pass your phone number to other companies owned by the same multinational conglomerate, or "relevant third parties", and we won't flood your inbox with spam. We're asking for fast contact details because if there's a problem with your order, we'd prefer to be able to let you know as soon as possible, and give you a chance to change your order, rather than waiting for you to contact us several weeks later because your goods have not arrived.
Your credit card 'security code' is NOT your PIN.
Your security code is the last three digits of the little number on the back of your card, where you put your signature. It's not a difficult thing to find. You never type your PIN online. If you type in your PIN where you should have put your security code, all that happens is that your credit card gets flagged - security code not matched - and you may have to wait longer while we check to find out whether you're (a) incapable of reading simple instructions or (b) a fraudster trying to use a dodgy credit card, and let's be honest, neither of those are good really, are they?
Reasonable Requests
Most small businesses will do their best to meet any requests you make, it's part of what makes us different to Amazon and Tesco. Perhaps something is a gift and you want to be sure it's sent to the recipient without the price on it - no problem. Maybe you are on holiday and want to delay posting to make sure your package won't arrive while you're away - easy. Maybe you want your order shipped in as many lots as it takes to make sure that each parcel is no bigger than the pannier on your bike - we can do that. But please, please, let us know early on. Preferably before you place your order. If we know your requests before the order comes in, then we can do our best to meet them. We won't be able to get the package back off the Post Office if you only put in your request after the order is dispatched.
Still to come: Costs and charges, Royal Mail, and Other Issues.
And now, by request of a friend of mine, a short commercial break for a friendly online mail order business. Adults only, I cannot stress this strongly enough, adults only may wish to look at Temptations for all their adult toy needs. Temptations is run by a couple of entrepreneurs with a long-standing interest in adult toys, aiming to provide the sort of service levels they would prefer to recieve when shopping online for such items. Please don't click that link if you're under 16 or easily offended.
Under-16s, and those who are not in the market for the kind of wares Temptations stock, may prefer to visit the 100% family-friendly appropriate-for-everyone Web Of Wool to spend their money.
Edit 20:17 07/09/08 broken link fixed.
Speaking from the trenches of mail-order dispatch of classical music, I can confirm that the rush has started. The volume of orders is increasing, and the orders being placed have more than a sprinkling of titles like "Concertos and Cantatas for Christmas", not to mention Bach's Christmas Oratorio (available on CD, SACD and DVD from just about any record label you care to name).
I'm guessing that quite a few of the people who read this blog are likely to do at least part of their shopping online, so I figured it wouldn't hurt to make a few generic requests and give a few pointers, on behalf of all those dispatchers for small businesses out there who remember last Christmas and are fearing this one.
... actually, thinking about it, this may work better as a series. Other readers on the frontline should feel free to make additions in the comments.
So onwards, with Part One - Placing Your Order.
Fill out the form properly.
It's not really a difficult form. Put your postcode in the postcode box and your address in the address boxes. If you don't know your address and postcode, go and ask a responsible adult.
For each new line, use a new line of the address box - don't just type in twenty spaces, or half a dozen full stops. You can click in each box, or you can use the TAB key to scroll through them. While you're at it, why not let the shift key enter your life? It's not just there to make the keyboard look nice.
"As Above" is not an address. Nor is "as previous order," as I can't actually see your previous orders unless I stop everything and start rootling around in the database. And please, for pity's sake, don't think you're being clever by asterisking out the first few letters of each line of your name and address "for security". We need your proper address in order to send you the things you have ordered. The postman will not take packages to "** ***ley Road", okay?
You should also know that it's not "the computer" that fixes these things so that you get your goods. It's me, putting my Stalker hat on with the help of Google in a way that would probably have you feeling quite uncomfortable if you knew about it. You may also like to remember that all the time I spend correcting your address, I'm not shipping orders - you're holding up the queue!
Contact details
We're not asking for the fun of it, nor are we likely to sell your data. If we've said that we won't pass your details on, then we really won't. It's one of those big business/small business things. A big business is only ever about the money. A small business, on the other hand, is personal, and all of its employees are going to be trying to provide the sort of service we would like to recieve from others. So we won't pass your phone number to other companies owned by the same multinational conglomerate, or "relevant third parties", and we won't flood your inbox with spam. We're asking for fast contact details because if there's a problem with your order, we'd prefer to be able to let you know as soon as possible, and give you a chance to change your order, rather than waiting for you to contact us several weeks later because your goods have not arrived.
Your credit card 'security code' is NOT your PIN.
Your security code is the last three digits of the little number on the back of your card, where you put your signature. It's not a difficult thing to find. You never type your PIN online. If you type in your PIN where you should have put your security code, all that happens is that your credit card gets flagged - security code not matched - and you may have to wait longer while we check to find out whether you're (a) incapable of reading simple instructions or (b) a fraudster trying to use a dodgy credit card, and let's be honest, neither of those are good really, are they?
Reasonable Requests
Most small businesses will do their best to meet any requests you make, it's part of what makes us different to Amazon and Tesco. Perhaps something is a gift and you want to be sure it's sent to the recipient without the price on it - no problem. Maybe you are on holiday and want to delay posting to make sure your package won't arrive while you're away - easy. Maybe you want your order shipped in as many lots as it takes to make sure that each parcel is no bigger than the pannier on your bike - we can do that. But please, please, let us know early on. Preferably before you place your order. If we know your requests before the order comes in, then we can do our best to meet them. We won't be able to get the package back off the Post Office if you only put in your request after the order is dispatched.
Still to come: Costs and charges, Royal Mail, and Other Issues.
And now, by request of a friend of mine, a short commercial break for a friendly online mail order business. Adults only, I cannot stress this strongly enough, adults only may wish to look at Temptations for all their adult toy needs. Temptations is run by a couple of entrepreneurs with a long-standing interest in adult toys, aiming to provide the sort of service levels they would prefer to recieve when shopping online for such items. Please don't click that link if you're under 16 or easily offended.
Under-16s, and those who are not in the market for the kind of wares Temptations stock, may prefer to visit the 100% family-friendly appropriate-for-everyone Web Of Wool to spend their money.
Edit 20:17 07/09/08 broken link fixed.
Saturday, April 19, 2008
Detangling
Another bit of benefit tangle is a step closer to being untangled.
Long-time readers will recall how, back in November last year, I got a job. A month later, I found that despite having formally and officially told everyone and their dog, as soon as I found out, that I was starting paid employment, I was still being paid Incapacity Benefit. Eventually I got them to stop it, but no one could tell me what would happen to the erroneously-paid money sitting in my bank account.
Well, today - several months on - I finally got a letter about it. The letter stops short of actually accusing me of wilful fraud, but I was less than amused by the weasel phrase "too much Incapacity Benefit has been paid. This is because of your work."
No. My entitlement to Incapacity Benefit stopped because of my work. The issue of too much Incapacity Benefit being paid was because of the failure of the DWP to act on the information about my change in circumstances, which I had gone to all reasonable lengths to convey to several of their departments, both over the phone and in writing.
I am reminded that I must pay it back because it is THE LAW. Gosh.
I'm perfectly happy to pay it back, as it's not money that I was entitled to receive in the first place. But would it kill them to apologise for their mistake? Or for taking four months after I spotted and told them about their mistake to decide what to do about it?
Anyway, I have to phone up and arrange to set up a method of repayment. Annoyingly, I can't do this today as their phone number is Monday-Friday only, which I wouldn't mind, except for some reason DWP postal communications via Business Post UK Mail only ever arrive on a Saturday when the helplines are all shut. I am sure this isn't just to spoil people's weekend with news of a stressful issue they can't take action or advice about for 48 hours, but I have to admit, I do wonder why.
And Now For Something Completely Different...
...a quick reminder about Blogging Against Disablism Day 2008.
Long-time readers will recall how, back in November last year, I got a job. A month later, I found that despite having formally and officially told everyone and their dog, as soon as I found out, that I was starting paid employment, I was still being paid Incapacity Benefit. Eventually I got them to stop it, but no one could tell me what would happen to the erroneously-paid money sitting in my bank account.
Well, today - several months on - I finally got a letter about it. The letter stops short of actually accusing me of wilful fraud, but I was less than amused by the weasel phrase "too much Incapacity Benefit has been paid. This is because of your work."
No. My entitlement to Incapacity Benefit stopped because of my work. The issue of too much Incapacity Benefit being paid was because of the failure of the DWP to act on the information about my change in circumstances, which I had gone to all reasonable lengths to convey to several of their departments, both over the phone and in writing.
I am reminded that I must pay it back because it is THE LAW. Gosh.
I'm perfectly happy to pay it back, as it's not money that I was entitled to receive in the first place. But would it kill them to apologise for their mistake? Or for taking four months after I spotted and told them about their mistake to decide what to do about it?
Anyway, I have to phone up and arrange to set up a method of repayment. Annoyingly, I can't do this today as their phone number is Monday-Friday only, which I wouldn't mind, except for some reason DWP postal communications via Business Post UK Mail only ever arrive on a Saturday when the helplines are all shut. I am sure this isn't just to spoil people's weekend with news of a stressful issue they can't take action or advice about for 48 hours, but I have to admit, I do wonder why.
And Now For Something Completely Different...
...a quick reminder about Blogging Against Disablism Day 2008.
Wednesday, March 26, 2008
Ahead of schedule
The DLA claim is now complete. All pages have my name and NI number on, all signatures are in place, all documents are attached.
Steve and I got the bulk of the photocopying done on Tuesday morning. That was sort of fun. Obvously the Big Document, we had simply printed off two copies. But the supporting documents, like other people's statements and my repeat prescription and whatnot, needed actual photocopying, plus of course several pages of the form itself such as the front page, the signature and the sucklike. Anyway, we sauntered into the local library and asked the nice lady at the desk if we could do photocopying. She looked across at the photocopier (obviously a complicated piece of equipment requiring years of training) and answered "well, I can do photocopying for you."
I cannot describe how very intensely satisfying it was to cheerfully say "okay then!" and whump about 25 miscellaneous pieces of paper and a big, thick form onto her desk, none of which could be put into the autofeeder on the machine.
Then Steve and I sat down on some really quite comfortable chairs (the library's just had a bit of a re-fit) and quietly flicked through some magazines for half an hour, listening to the singing of the toddler's group which was taking place in a side room, while she got on with copying each. page. individually.
This was much easier than I had envisaged.
Today, I got the physical signed copy of the last of the statements from my friends. Steve and I don't have a photocopier, but we do have a scanner and a printer, so rather than another trip to the library we took care of that one at home.
I now have two large checked and double-checked piles of paperwork, one for them and one for me.
The pile of paperwork being sent to the DWP is over a centimetre thick. This will not fit into the standard A4 size envelope provided by the DWP for the return of the form. Also, the envelope provided is a Freepost one, and I don't want to send my precious documentation via Freepost. I want it guaranteed next-day delivery, recorded, tracked, traced and signed for. I'm wondering whether my best course of action is to (a) ask the people at the Post Office, or (b) call the Benefit Enquiry Line and ask them.
I'm so glad this is over. I will send it tomorrow and then I won't have to think about it at all until they contact me with their answer, which could well be several months.
A big, big, enormous thank you to everyone who has helped me - everyone who's written a statement, or helped with phrasing of things, or signposted me to useful resources, or listened to me sounding off when I got overstressed, or left a supportive blog comment. I could not have got this done without your help and support.
I do find myself at a bit of a loss, though. I'm sat here with the laptop and this overwhelming feeling that I'm supposed to be working on my Additional Information, like I have done with most of my spare time for the last few weeks. I'm not really sure what I'm meant to do instead. Suggestions for blog topics welcome.
Steve and I got the bulk of the photocopying done on Tuesday morning. That was sort of fun. Obvously the Big Document, we had simply printed off two copies. But the supporting documents, like other people's statements and my repeat prescription and whatnot, needed actual photocopying, plus of course several pages of the form itself such as the front page, the signature and the sucklike. Anyway, we sauntered into the local library and asked the nice lady at the desk if we could do photocopying. She looked across at the photocopier (obviously a complicated piece of equipment requiring years of training) and answered "well, I can do photocopying for you."
I cannot describe how very intensely satisfying it was to cheerfully say "okay then!" and whump about 25 miscellaneous pieces of paper and a big, thick form onto her desk, none of which could be put into the autofeeder on the machine.
Then Steve and I sat down on some really quite comfortable chairs (the library's just had a bit of a re-fit) and quietly flicked through some magazines for half an hour, listening to the singing of the toddler's group which was taking place in a side room, while she got on with copying each. page. individually.
This was much easier than I had envisaged.
Today, I got the physical signed copy of the last of the statements from my friends. Steve and I don't have a photocopier, but we do have a scanner and a printer, so rather than another trip to the library we took care of that one at home.
I now have two large checked and double-checked piles of paperwork, one for them and one for me.
The pile of paperwork being sent to the DWP is over a centimetre thick. This will not fit into the standard A4 size envelope provided by the DWP for the return of the form. Also, the envelope provided is a Freepost one, and I don't want to send my precious documentation via Freepost. I want it guaranteed next-day delivery, recorded, tracked, traced and signed for. I'm wondering whether my best course of action is to (a) ask the people at the Post Office, or (b) call the Benefit Enquiry Line and ask them.
I'm so glad this is over. I will send it tomorrow and then I won't have to think about it at all until they contact me with their answer, which could well be several months.
A big, big, enormous thank you to everyone who has helped me - everyone who's written a statement, or helped with phrasing of things, or signposted me to useful resources, or listened to me sounding off when I got overstressed, or left a supportive blog comment. I could not have got this done without your help and support.
I do find myself at a bit of a loss, though. I'm sat here with the laptop and this overwhelming feeling that I'm supposed to be working on my Additional Information, like I have done with most of my spare time for the last few weeks. I'm not really sure what I'm meant to do instead. Suggestions for blog topics welcome.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Finished Item: Birthday Sock
Of course, socks traditionally come in pairs, and I have cast on Birthday Sock 2, but the way things are at the moment, even the completion of One Sock is enough to warrant celebratory feelings.
It's... not a good time. Several things, some bloggable, some not, are causing a certain amount of stress right now. A small taster...
I suspect that tomorrow I have to call the Tax Credits people and/or Royal Mail because of a problem with the paperwork I sent by Recorded Signed For post last week not being flagged as 'delivered' yet. This is going to be made more difficult by me being rather iller than usual at the moment. I suspect I have to make a doctor's appointment as it's getting to the "beyond a joke" point - without Steve, I would be well and truly stuffed by now. I'm worried that even with Steve's help I might end up having to take time off work if my health doesn't pick up again sharpish. I have to sort out some more stuff with the DWP as well.
You get the picture.
I also have to write up a feedback report for Access to Work. Well, I don't have to, which is why I haven't done it yet. But I've been asked to, and I feel like I should.
I need to get some serious praise in for my current adviser, who has been fabulous and got all sorts of things (the taxis, the squishing machine) sorted out pretty much next-day, and I want to say nice things about the scheme in general.
But I also really need to let them know about the problems I have encountered with the system, like the trouble I had getting onto the scheme, the attempts to make One Size Fit All, the catch-22 of not being able to apply for the scheme until you have a definite job offer, but the difficulty of negotiating for a job offer without knowing whether you're likely to get help from the scheme or not.
Actually, if anyone can think of some good phrases I could use, please do put them in the comments, because at the moment I'm having trouble properly saying things I want to say without (a) it coming out wrong and everyone looking confused, (b) half of it coming out before my brain goes off at a tangent and I fail to communicate my original point leaving everyone looking confused, or (c) it coming out right, but far too abrupt/rude/blunt and leaving everyone looking distinctly pissed off. I need all the help I can get.
The sock came out well though.
It's... not a good time. Several things, some bloggable, some not, are causing a certain amount of stress right now. A small taster...
I suspect that tomorrow I have to call the Tax Credits people and/or Royal Mail because of a problem with the paperwork I sent by Recorded Signed For post last week not being flagged as 'delivered' yet. This is going to be made more difficult by me being rather iller than usual at the moment. I suspect I have to make a doctor's appointment as it's getting to the "beyond a joke" point - without Steve, I would be well and truly stuffed by now. I'm worried that even with Steve's help I might end up having to take time off work if my health doesn't pick up again sharpish. I have to sort out some more stuff with the DWP as well.
You get the picture.
I also have to write up a feedback report for Access to Work. Well, I don't have to, which is why I haven't done it yet. But I've been asked to, and I feel like I should.
I need to get some serious praise in for my current adviser, who has been fabulous and got all sorts of things (the taxis, the squishing machine) sorted out pretty much next-day, and I want to say nice things about the scheme in general.
But I also really need to let them know about the problems I have encountered with the system, like the trouble I had getting onto the scheme, the attempts to make One Size Fit All, the catch-22 of not being able to apply for the scheme until you have a definite job offer, but the difficulty of negotiating for a job offer without knowing whether you're likely to get help from the scheme or not.
Actually, if anyone can think of some good phrases I could use, please do put them in the comments, because at the moment I'm having trouble properly saying things I want to say without (a) it coming out wrong and everyone looking confused, (b) half of it coming out before my brain goes off at a tangent and I fail to communicate my original point leaving everyone looking confused, or (c) it coming out right, but far too abrupt/rude/blunt and leaving everyone looking distinctly pissed off. I need all the help I can get.
The sock came out well though.
Tuesday, December 04, 2007
Christmas Cards
One of the things I think is really important, and often overlooked, is Christmas cards.
No, I don't mean like when you're a kid and you carefully write out cards to all the kids in your class apart from that one smelly poo-head you don't like.
No, I don't mean like when you're a teenager and in competition with a sibling to prove who is more popular and ace based on how many cards you got.
Nor do I mean when your business sends cards to all your regular clients and vendors, or when you keep a couple of blank cards in your glovebox just in case, or those godawful "family newsletter" things where you try and advertise how wonderful your household is, and I definitely don't mean e-cards or worse still, the "happy xmas!" email sent automatically to *everyone* on your contacts list including the various customerorders@shop.com. Be honest now. How often have you ever re-opened a Christmas email or given a second thought about the person who sent it?
No, I mean an actual Christmas card chosen and given or sent to someone you actually give a monkeys about.
You see, it's not just a bit of cheap card (as in "£1 for a pack of ten cards?! That works out at TEN PENCE per card! That's ridiculous! It's only a bit of card! I bet it doesn't cost anything like that amount to make!" and so on).
It's a physical reminder, at this dark, cold time of year, that someone cares and appreciates you. Perhaps you're lucky enough to see and speak with other people every day. Perhaps you're constantly surrounded by people who care about you or at least talk to you. Not everyone has that though.
Let's do a thought experiment.
Your [friend or relative] is at home, wearing three jumpers because it's getting bloody cold lately but the cost of heating is getting silly. They're very much looking forward to Christmas Day, big family meal and so on, but right now, time is dragging by a bit and they're kind of alone and there's not much to do and not much cash with which to do it. The post arrives - a gas bill, some advertising, and a Christmas card from you with a little message to say you hope he/she's well, and maybe a bit of personal news. Not an essay, just four or five lines in the card.
Do they:
(a) read it, smile, put the card on the mantelpiece, and smile again every time they sees it over the next week or so, perhaps even occasionally taking it down to have another little look at it?
(b) read it, and then pop it into the recycling box along with the advertising? (admit it, this is what happens to those bulk Christmas emails)
(c) read it, and then phone you up to launch into a diatribe about how it's a terrible waste of money and playing into the hands of corporate fat-cats, and write you out of their will?
Extreme example, obviously, and if the answer is (c) then Do Not Do It. But I reckon the majority of people - even if they are incredibly busy and popular - would smile upon receiving a card from a loved one.
Sometimes the absence of a card can be as striking as its presence. If you're swamped by a hundred cards from work alone, you probably won't notice that a family member hasn't sent a card. If you're a little more isolated, then you will. If you have three grown-up children and only one of them sends you a card, you will wonder what has happened to your relationship with the other two to make them feel you are not even worth a 10p card and a postage stamp?
The last posting date for the UK (Royal Mail first class) is December 20th. UK people wanting to post to other places should check here.
No, I don't mean like when you're a kid and you carefully write out cards to all the kids in your class apart from that one smelly poo-head you don't like.
No, I don't mean like when you're a teenager and in competition with a sibling to prove who is more popular and ace based on how many cards you got.
Nor do I mean when your business sends cards to all your regular clients and vendors, or when you keep a couple of blank cards in your glovebox just in case, or those godawful "family newsletter" things where you try and advertise how wonderful your household is, and I definitely don't mean e-cards or worse still, the "happy xmas!" email sent automatically to *everyone* on your contacts list including the various customerorders@shop.com. Be honest now. How often have you ever re-opened a Christmas email or given a second thought about the person who sent it?
No, I mean an actual Christmas card chosen and given or sent to someone you actually give a monkeys about.
You see, it's not just a bit of cheap card (as in "£1 for a pack of ten cards?! That works out at TEN PENCE per card! That's ridiculous! It's only a bit of card! I bet it doesn't cost anything like that amount to make!" and so on).
It's a physical reminder, at this dark, cold time of year, that someone cares and appreciates you. Perhaps you're lucky enough to see and speak with other people every day. Perhaps you're constantly surrounded by people who care about you or at least talk to you. Not everyone has that though.
Let's do a thought experiment.
Your [friend or relative] is at home, wearing three jumpers because it's getting bloody cold lately but the cost of heating is getting silly. They're very much looking forward to Christmas Day, big family meal and so on, but right now, time is dragging by a bit and they're kind of alone and there's not much to do and not much cash with which to do it. The post arrives - a gas bill, some advertising, and a Christmas card from you with a little message to say you hope he/she's well, and maybe a bit of personal news. Not an essay, just four or five lines in the card.
Do they:
(a) read it, smile, put the card on the mantelpiece, and smile again every time they sees it over the next week or so, perhaps even occasionally taking it down to have another little look at it?
(b) read it, and then pop it into the recycling box along with the advertising? (admit it, this is what happens to those bulk Christmas emails)
(c) read it, and then phone you up to launch into a diatribe about how it's a terrible waste of money and playing into the hands of corporate fat-cats, and write you out of their will?
Extreme example, obviously, and if the answer is (c) then Do Not Do It. But I reckon the majority of people - even if they are incredibly busy and popular - would smile upon receiving a card from a loved one.
Sometimes the absence of a card can be as striking as its presence. If you're swamped by a hundred cards from work alone, you probably won't notice that a family member hasn't sent a card. If you're a little more isolated, then you will. If you have three grown-up children and only one of them sends you a card, you will wonder what has happened to your relationship with the other two to make them feel you are not even worth a 10p card and a postage stamp?
The last posting date for the UK (Royal Mail first class) is December 20th. UK people wanting to post to other places should check here.
Sunday, October 14, 2007
Home
This is a long post. Waffle about home, waffle about nice people, and a waffle about knitting. Feel free to skip to whatever bit you want.
Home
I'm definitely much more settled in now than I was last time I posted. Steve and a friend went to Lowestoft to pile the rest of my stuff into a van, so now it's all here. Mum and Sister Dearest have done the finishing up at the flat - disposing of the last bits of rubbish, giving the empty flat a final once-over with the vacuum cleaner, that sort of thing - so now all that remains to be done, is for Mum to call the leccy people with the final meter reading, and then hand the keys back to the landlord's agents.
A three-bedroom house containing my boyfriend is obviously going to be a very different home to a small one-bedroom flat that was just mine. Nevertheless, a home it is. It's amazing how much difference small things can make. For instance, the bedroom here, now contains the small bin and a few framed photographs that were in my bedroom back there. My poor abused houseplant is in the lounge. My trusty kettle is in the kitchen. And because of this, it doesn't seem to matter so much that 90% of my books are still inaccessible due to being boxed up, because there's a significant amount of familiar things that are definitely mine, but have their place here. It's very reassuring. Yes, I realise this makes me horribly materialistic. I don't care.
Nice People
More proof has been asserted for my "People Are Basically Nice" theory. This time, it was in the form of our next-door neighbours and an end to the Saga Of The Sink which I think several real-life people have heard about but I don't seem to have blogged.
Precis: There was a drip under Steve's kitchen sink (it started several months ago before I lived here, so definitely HIS sink). While it was creating half a small bucketful of water every fortnight or so, it was a bit of a non-issue. When I moved in here and discovered that it had deteriorated to a point where the brimful bucket needed emptying three times a day, I started being a pain in the arse at him to either fix it or call a plumber to fix it. I also dug out a Bigger Bucket. On Saturday morning, we found that the Bigger Bucket had filled to the top during the few hours while we slept, and Steve said I could call a plumber if I wanted.
Finding a plumber in Lowestoft would have been easy. Verily we could sayeth unto Pip, or other person involved in the building trade, "what plumbers do you know who could come and fix this for me?" and yea, he declareth "Bob's a decent plumber and a nice bloke, good mate, he won't overcharge you" and lo, for Bob the Plumber doth cease the flow of water and only charge for parts, and all is good with the world.
Here, however, I have yet to develop a personal and prioritised hotline to the world of tradesmen. Nor do I have the other common plan of having used a particular firm's services once, and on the basis that they didn't steal or break anything, hanging onto the number to call them next time there's an issue. So, I decided the sensible thing to do would be to pop next door to have a word with the lovely couple who have lived there many many years, and see if they had either of these resources.
All I asked for was a phone number of a plumber they could recommend. Of course, they asked what the matter was. In an effort to reassure them that they wouldn't be affected, I told them. "But why do you need a plumber for that?" they asked. "Because we don't know how to fix it ourselves," I answered. Next thing I knew, our friendly neighbour was coming round to have a look at it. He told Steve where to find the thingy to turn the water off, and undid the bit that was broken, and sent Steve off in the car to get a new one. Steve returned with the new bit, our friendly neighbour fitted it, and ever since, no drip.
I have no idea how we can thank the man. All I'm sure of is that giving him money would mortally offend him.
(At this point I also need to say that, on his plumbing expedition, Steve got new taps, the lever type ones, which are SO much easier for me (well, for anyone really) to use. Well done Steve.)
Knitting
I finished the jumper for Littlun, just on time for Steve to take it with him to Lowestoft when he went to pick up my stuff. I finished it perfectly, but then, I panicked. I had somehow convinced myself that there was no way the bound-off edge of the collar would be big enough to go over Littlun's head. Steve tried to persuade me it would be fine, but he didn't want to be too insistent because he was more concerned about making me calm down.
So rather than taking photos of the perfect finished item, I frantically unpicked the collar seam and knitted up a triangle shape to shove in, effectively increasing the neck by one inch. It didn't exactly look right but, he's three, he's not going to be wearing it perfectly straight at the best of times, and no other knitters are likely to inspect it. I didn't have time to re-do the bodge, but at least now I knew he would be able to at least put the jumper ON.
Steve took lots of pictures for me, but here is just one of the Littlun in his new jumper.
Since then, I have been working on my adapted version of these mitts for my stepdad. Today I finished Left Mitt v1.0 which I am sending to my parents for approval. If they tell me it fits, I can get on with knitting an identical Right Mitt. If it doesn't fit, I shall make a start on v2.0, with whatever adjustments they tell me are required.
Of course the big problem with this is the postal system or more to the point, the postal strikes. If I post v1.0 tomorrow (Monday), it may well not reach them until the following week or longer. I would also guess there's a higher chance than usual of it going missing altogether.
This means I have no current projects on the needles. Which feels weird. And I don't want to start the right mitt with the v1.0 pattern only to find it won't fit. And I don't have a clue what to knit next. Ideas?
Home
I'm definitely much more settled in now than I was last time I posted. Steve and a friend went to Lowestoft to pile the rest of my stuff into a van, so now it's all here. Mum and Sister Dearest have done the finishing up at the flat - disposing of the last bits of rubbish, giving the empty flat a final once-over with the vacuum cleaner, that sort of thing - so now all that remains to be done, is for Mum to call the leccy people with the final meter reading, and then hand the keys back to the landlord's agents.
A three-bedroom house containing my boyfriend is obviously going to be a very different home to a small one-bedroom flat that was just mine. Nevertheless, a home it is. It's amazing how much difference small things can make. For instance, the bedroom here, now contains the small bin and a few framed photographs that were in my bedroom back there. My poor abused houseplant is in the lounge. My trusty kettle is in the kitchen. And because of this, it doesn't seem to matter so much that 90% of my books are still inaccessible due to being boxed up, because there's a significant amount of familiar things that are definitely mine, but have their place here. It's very reassuring. Yes, I realise this makes me horribly materialistic. I don't care.
Nice People
More proof has been asserted for my "People Are Basically Nice" theory. This time, it was in the form of our next-door neighbours and an end to the Saga Of The Sink which I think several real-life people have heard about but I don't seem to have blogged.
Precis: There was a drip under Steve's kitchen sink (it started several months ago before I lived here, so definitely HIS sink). While it was creating half a small bucketful of water every fortnight or so, it was a bit of a non-issue. When I moved in here and discovered that it had deteriorated to a point where the brimful bucket needed emptying three times a day, I started being a pain in the arse at him to either fix it or call a plumber to fix it. I also dug out a Bigger Bucket. On Saturday morning, we found that the Bigger Bucket had filled to the top during the few hours while we slept, and Steve said I could call a plumber if I wanted.
Finding a plumber in Lowestoft would have been easy. Verily we could sayeth unto Pip, or other person involved in the building trade, "what plumbers do you know who could come and fix this for me?" and yea, he declareth "Bob's a decent plumber and a nice bloke, good mate, he won't overcharge you" and lo, for Bob the Plumber doth cease the flow of water and only charge for parts, and all is good with the world.
Here, however, I have yet to develop a personal and prioritised hotline to the world of tradesmen. Nor do I have the other common plan of having used a particular firm's services once, and on the basis that they didn't steal or break anything, hanging onto the number to call them next time there's an issue. So, I decided the sensible thing to do would be to pop next door to have a word with the lovely couple who have lived there many many years, and see if they had either of these resources.
All I asked for was a phone number of a plumber they could recommend. Of course, they asked what the matter was. In an effort to reassure them that they wouldn't be affected, I told them. "But why do you need a plumber for that?" they asked. "Because we don't know how to fix it ourselves," I answered. Next thing I knew, our friendly neighbour was coming round to have a look at it. He told Steve where to find the thingy to turn the water off, and undid the bit that was broken, and sent Steve off in the car to get a new one. Steve returned with the new bit, our friendly neighbour fitted it, and ever since, no drip.
I have no idea how we can thank the man. All I'm sure of is that giving him money would mortally offend him.
(At this point I also need to say that, on his plumbing expedition, Steve got new taps, the lever type ones, which are SO much easier for me (well, for anyone really) to use. Well done Steve.)
Knitting
I finished the jumper for Littlun, just on time for Steve to take it with him to Lowestoft when he went to pick up my stuff. I finished it perfectly, but then, I panicked. I had somehow convinced myself that there was no way the bound-off edge of the collar would be big enough to go over Littlun's head. Steve tried to persuade me it would be fine, but he didn't want to be too insistent because he was more concerned about making me calm down.
So rather than taking photos of the perfect finished item, I frantically unpicked the collar seam and knitted up a triangle shape to shove in, effectively increasing the neck by one inch. It didn't exactly look right but, he's three, he's not going to be wearing it perfectly straight at the best of times, and no other knitters are likely to inspect it. I didn't have time to re-do the bodge, but at least now I knew he would be able to at least put the jumper ON.
Steve took lots of pictures for me, but here is just one of the Littlun in his new jumper.
Since then, I have been working on my adapted version of these mitts for my stepdad. Today I finished Left Mitt v1.0 which I am sending to my parents for approval. If they tell me it fits, I can get on with knitting an identical Right Mitt. If it doesn't fit, I shall make a start on v2.0, with whatever adjustments they tell me are required.
Of course the big problem with this is the postal system or more to the point, the postal strikes. If I post v1.0 tomorrow (Monday), it may well not reach them until the following week or longer. I would also guess there's a higher chance than usual of it going missing altogether.
This means I have no current projects on the needles. Which feels weird. And I don't want to start the right mitt with the v1.0 pattern only to find it won't fit. And I don't have a clue what to knit next. Ideas?
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