Adventures in Pension Land — Round 5

If both of you readers remember, in my last blog, I had been told that I could not proceed with my "Request for a Pension" because I did not have a bank account into which my pension would be deposited, if approved , that is.

Having been told this by the girl in the little window, I had to wait until the next day to deal with the requested bank account.

So, I arrived in the Banamex office and went straight to the manager's desk. I was not in a mood to be trifled with. There were other people waiting patiently in a sofa for the manager to be done with the customer that was before her, but I ignored all of that and said to her,

"I need to open an account right away. I need it to request my damned pension and I am sick and tired of all the running around that your bank in cahoots with the Social Security system have had me do. So, sign me up, fill in whatever the damned forms have to be filled up and give me my damned bank account contract so I can get on with this!"

There was a silence in the bank as if I had said, "This is a hold up."

The manager blinked and said, "Please take a seat, sir. The executive that opens bank accounts for pensioners is at lunch."

"Don't your executives ever do anything else but go out to lunch?" I asked testily.

The manager looked up at the clock and said, "Oh, she will be here in five or ten minutes. Please take a seat over there by her desk."

I went off grumpily; I could hear the other customers mumble and some even breath a sigh of relief like when the dog catcher removes a rabid dog from the street.

Of course, the "executive" did not arrive in five or ten minutes. She sauntered in thirty minutes later. The manager called her over and whispered something. Probably warning her that she had a mad (as in crazy and irate) customer to deal with.

The "pensioner's bank account" executive came over, without a word to me she took of her coat, sat down, clicked and clacked at her computer's keyboard, and when she was done turned to me,

"I understand you need a bank account for your pension's deposit."

"You understand correctly, but it is for my POSSIBLE pension's deposit," I said and heads turned at the emphasis of the word.

"Your name and social security number," said the girl executive without being fazed at my exclamation.

I gave her the data she requested. After a moment, she left her desk and went into that mysterious back room that all of these bank's offices seem to have. She came back with a sheaf of papers. She stamped them, signed them, and got up again. This time she came back with an envelope.

As she opened it, I said, "And the winner of the Best Picture oscar goes to..."

She didn't think my remark was funny. In fact, she frowned and gave me a harsh look.

"This is your card," she said taking a debit card out of the envelope. "You will not be able to use it until the Social Security system deposits your first payment. At that time, you will activate it by putting it into an ATM machine and typing the generic code which is here on this printed letter. It will then ask you to type in another code which will be your secret code. Be sure to type in and confirm your new code. After that it will give you your current balance and you may withdraw money if you wish."

She shuffled the sheaf of papers and said, "Please sign these."

Again I asked, "Why?"

She was taking no guff from me and said, "This is your contract. If you don't sign it you will not be able to complete your pension request."

Well, that trumped me so I signed without further ado.

It was well past four o'clock when I left the bank with my card and my contract. There was nothing to do but go home and go back the next day to the girl in the little window.

The following day, bright and early, I called for yet another taxi and went to the Family clinic. As per her orders, I went directly to the little window without queuing. There was another person at the window but the girl recognized me, asked the person at the window to wait a minute, and said to me,

"Have you got the contract?"

"Yes, yes I have," I answered eagerly.

I gave it to her and she stapled it to the other papers that she had put aside on her "in" basket.  She then took a printed sheet which had a little paper stapled to it. She said,

"I will send your request for a pension to the Social Security Pensions office." She gave me the printed paper. "This explains what you have to do now."

"When do I go to the Pensions Office? Can I go now?"

"No," she said. "It will take five days for them to register your request. Take this paper with you. It is a copy of your request for a pension. And, take your voter's card with you and a copy of your card."

Five days! Five days it would take them to process my request. Damn! I sighed. There was nothing for it. I would have to go home, watch television for five days and then go to the Pensions Office, wherever that was.

For five days I watched television, answered email, went to have drinks with my friends, and generally wasted my time. On the fifth day of my revelry I called the magic "800" number and asked where the Pensions Office was. The boy who answered my call said that my "assigned" Pensions Office would be where my "assigned" sub-delegations was.

Well, I was Johnny-on-the-spot now. I knew where my assigned sub-delegation was; it was number four. I took a taxi and was there in a jiffy. Being "Social Security wise" I did not go to the information desk where the usual queue was formed. I asked the woman cop standing idly by the door where the fabled office was.

"Go down this alley," she said pointing to a gate next door, "and turn to the right when you get to the end of it. You will see and entrance that has a sign over it that says 'Pensions'."

Of course, it was just like the Social Security to hide its most important office in some obscure alleyway. But, undeterred, I went down the alley.

I came upon an open court. It was surrounded by empty office buildings which belonged to the Social Security. I wondered why they had spent so much money building all of this if it was not going to be used; or better yet, why not use it to alleviate the crowding in the sub-delegation or the fact that the girl in the little window needed more space and more people to help her or do the job she did. But, no, the only people in the entire space were two women who were selling pumpkin seeds and potato chips.

I turned to my right at the end of the court and there it was, the promised land. Over a glass door was a sign, "Pensiones".

Tomorrow, and I DO mean tomorrow. I will write the next part, the resolution of my "Request for a Pension". I promise, just as the Social Security promised me!