Little guys 1, big boys 0 - so take that

Kate Stewart

Hands up if you can remember a time in a bygone era - after the wheel but before the internet - when you didn't need an IRD number until you actually commenced paid employment.

Likewise, you could walk into a bank with a few dollars and open an account in anyone's name. Grandparents could open a savings account for little Johnny and start his future nest egg, no questions asked.

Times were much simpler then and, though I'm all for progress, there are moments where I yearn for the return of such simplicity.

I don't know exactly when the changes happened, but I do recall the day an envelope arrived from the Inland Revenue Department containing three little cards. Each card bore the name of a life form and an allocated IRD number.

I remember thinking: "What the bloody hell do I need these for?" The life forms were just 1 and 2 years old at the time.

I subsequently learned it was "big brother" at work, ensuring the inevitable information sharing of the future. They would be necessary the very second a life form chose to open a bank account.

That was some 15 years ago, and I wouldn't be surprised if that system is regarded as archaic and has now been updated to something as ludicrous as microchipping at birth.

Last week "clone the elder" asked me if I would open a bank account for him, so I went to my wallet, where the little cards have lain dormant for yonks, grabbed a copy of his birth certificate and made my way to the bank. Opening a bank account for a minor - how hard can it be?

Well, apart from the fact that not one single member of staff would be available for the rest of the day, the mission was pretty bloody hard.

A copy of the birth certificate wasn't good enough - it had to be the original and the life form had to be with me.

"Why?" I asked. Could he not call in when it suited him and do any necessary signing for an ATM card? Apparently not. He had to sign because the account would be in his name - my legal status of parent/guardian seemingly stood for nothing.

I was fuming and left wondering how the hell newborn babies and toddlers manage to sign if parents decide to have a bank account for their child from an early age. They don't, of course, which is proof they change the rules as and when it suits them. I call it being pedantic - this was just rules for the sake of rules; red tape and protocol that had neither rhyme nor reason. I wouldn't have been surprised had they also requested a DNA sample, retina scan, his left lung or kidney and an IOU for his firstborn.

You would think they would welcome new customers and endeavour to make it a pleasant and hassle-free experience whereby two trees don't have to die to provide the paperwork for terms and conditions, the dreaded fine print and the usual raft of marketing brochures.

Suffice to say, I thanked them for absolutely nothing and stormed out muttering loudly under my breath. I was none too pleased.

Maybe I'm over-reacting, but I just don't understand how or why what should be such a simple undertaking can turn into an arduous, convoluted chore. No one comes out a winner because of these crazy policies. It really is as if they impose them just because they can.

Determined not to let the big boys win, I have since devised and implemented a cunning plan that got my life form the desired result but gave the bank no new business. So, UP YOURS, BIG BUSINESS (maniacal laughter) - I'm chalking up a win for the little guy.

I welcome your feedback, so please email me any time at investik8@gmail.com

No birth certificate necessary. Smile loudly, as always.

Kate Stewart is an unemployed, reluctant mother of three, currently plotting the downfall of the world's banking system.