Blog #11: Government and Pension Forms: A New Form of Hell

Blog # 11: Government and Pension Forms: A New Form of Hell

Who was it who said, "What fresh hell is this?"

Source: https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=hell&id=B34DA4091183BB244D0FCA60341B51227DF9F899&FORM=IQFRBA

If the poet Dante Alighieri had ever been tempted to create a 10^th level of hell in his Divine Comedy it would have been for those poor souls wandering around and trying to fill out government forms.

I have no more than a passing acquaintance with Dante’s poem. I probably studied it in some English 101 course back in the day, and so I don’t think I can work it into this blog posting as a metaphore, or at least not until I have fully recovered from processing the paperwork for Blue Cross, my work’s pension (Local Authorities Pension Plan or LAPP), and my Canadian government pension and old-age security payments (CPP/OAS).

I do, though, feel as though I have been through form-filling hell and been spat back, gasping, into the land of the living.

Unless you have bags of money, chances are that your pensions form some part (small or large) of your retirement income, and so it’s pretty important to get the paperwork submitted on time and filled out correctly.

How hard can it be? 

Or as Canada’s late, great Stuart McLean was wont to say, “What could possibly go wrong?”

Plenty, it seems.

In my own defense, I am an immigrant and I did lose my landing/immigration papers!

So, as I can’t pretend to be a shining example for pension application/filler-out of government forms, I must (like the Titanic) be a cautionary example instead.

Honestly, Chris?

Honestly! 

Stay with me. 

If I don’t manage to entertain you, I might educate you so you can avoid similar pitfalls.

My mistake, I feel, was trying to tackle processing Blue Cross, LAPP, and CPP/OAS as one big project!

Oh, and my vocabulary has had a good workout in the process.

Blue Cross

Let’s start with Blue Cross.

In Alberta, when the oldest one of the couple turns 65, both partners have their monthly insurance premiums picked up by the government. Well, at least for now. Depends on what happens if our provincial government changes to a less-enlightened government, but that’s a topic for another day.

Really, it’s quite simple: one has to prove one’s age, prove that one is married/in a partnership, and (I seem to recall) prove one’s partner’s age.

Not that difficult; we had all the forms.

After some moments of frustration (Where does one go for a Commissioner of Oaths?), I figured out that my local Alberta Motor Association (AMA) is a registry office, the clerks there just need to see the documents, the application form gets an official stamp, and off goes the form to Blue Cross.

Hindsight being 50-50, it all seems so straight-forward now, and I’m wondering why the process sent me into a tail-spin.

LAPP

Then there's LAPP.

One can process one’s LAPP application on line. Or, if you’re like me, you can process paper copies and send them in via registered mail because it’s hard to argue with registered hard copies of documents.

One has to prove one’s age (fair enough), marital/partner status, provide bank information, and sundry other information. All reasonable requests.

And then comes the request for “legal” copies. What the heck does that mean? And one of the forms must be signed by a Commissioner of Oaths.

I had all my paperwork lined up, all the copies of the various documents were organized, and so off David and I go to our local AMA office in search of a Commissioner of Oaths. Why David? Because he has to prove who he is as well and so he has to be there in person.

We get to AMA only to find out that no-one at AMA can notarize copies of the documents.

Blinding flash of the obvious (which I do wish would happen earlier in the process): call our lawyer. 

$75 later and with all documents duly notarized and/or commissioned, off they go to the Alberta Pension folks. By this time, with lawyer’s fees, train fare, and registering the package, I’m out about $100.00 and David’s lost two half days of work.

And then, a couple of days later, a response from LAPP indicating that I just needed to submit regular photocopies of the documents!

At the time, while I was processing my application, I thought that I was caught in a whirlpool; now the whole process is mercifully a distant and fuzzy memory.

CPP/OAS

CPP/OAS is another matter.

So, please remember two things:

(1)   I am an immigrant, and

(2)   I managed to misplace/lose my landing/immigration papers, and I had no idea that they’d gone missing sometime in the previous 43 years.

In the process of completing all the paperwork, I have come to the following conclusions when applying for CPP/OAS:

1.      If you are currently a foetus, it’s a good idea if you can persuade your mum to go into labour and birth you in Canada. Sixty-five years into your future, and assuming your mum is still alive, go give her a big hug and kiss because she made your life so much easier.

2.     If you’ve passed beyond the foetus stage and it’s too late to persuade your mum to birth you in Canada, all is not lost providing you do not lose your landing/immigration papers. In my own defense, those papers went AWOL sometime in the last 43 years. Until I applied for my CPP/OAS, I had no idea they were missing and I have never needed them. Well, perhaps when I applied for my citizenship card and my first Canadian passport, but certainly not in at least 40 years.

3.     If you are not fluent in one of Canada’s two official languages . . . bring a friend who is (a) proficient in at least one of the two official languages and (b) can cope with government forms.

4.     If you are not reasonably competent with computer programs and searching for information . . . bring a friend who is proficient.

The CPP form and the OAS form are each around four pages. The forms are very detailed, and once again one has to provide proof of age (fair enough) . . . and marital status . . . and immigration status!

Trip #1 to the Harry Hays building on a bitterly cold and blustery day (somewhere south of -25C):

Source: https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=harry+hays+building&id=29A4AA3BC2DB4771CE74B89F9F852D9BE71C37D2&FORM=IQFRBA

·        Waited in line for about a half hour.

·        Initial (triage?) review of my documents by a lovely chap . . . and because I’ve lost those immigration papers, I was directed to a computer to locate the necessary form – the name and number of which the lovely young chap couldn’t remember. Really? Really!

·        No problem, said I. After all, I did work with lots of programs and databases at work, and I’m not a complete twit when it comes to finding information on line.

·        Forty-odd minutes later, and with no-one around to help, I am in tears.

·        Yes, me -- in tears.

·         So, I muttered some very rude words to myself, packed up my bags, and left.

Outside the Harry Hays building, sense, reason, or the biting cold helped return logic and good sense to me.

·         I am made of sterner stuff.

·         I do know how to do the stiff-upper-lip thing.

·         I’m not without resources.

·         I can find the missing document.

·         I can complete those bloody forms.

As a former, and late, colleague of mine (Borden McLeod) and Charlie Brown were/are wont to say, “Good grief!”

Thankfully, a much-needed blinding flash of the obvious presented itself again (and as always, way too late in the process):

·       I’m a problem solver by nature, and I love solving problems.

·       I needed to treat the whole process like a brand-new curriculum project! After all, that was my job. I know how to do this.

Organized as a curriculum project, things fell into place quickly. 

I lucked onto the necessary form: Consent to Exchange Information with Citizenship and Immigration Canada SC ISP-3210 (2016-06-30) E. 

The document was filled out. I made a quick phone call to England to confirm my late dad’s birth year (1927)  and my mum’s birth year (1931). Seriously – one does need this information.

Trip #2 to the Harry Hays building on another bitterly cold and blustery day:

No line up. Woooo Hooooo. (Remember to go buy a Lotto ticket, Chris.)

Another lovely young chap at the counter checks my forms, gets me to fill in a few missing details, stamps everything, and off goes the paperwork. 

Where’s the “Easy” button?

Source: https://www.bing.com/images/search?q=easy+button&id=CE99699E78ED7C175049469343702DC692EDC46A&FORM=IQFRBA

Mind you, the permission to investigate my landing status can take up to 12 months as both Canada (to check I arrived) and England (to check I left) have to be contacted and that checking process appears to hold up OAS payments.

So, a couple of observations on the CPP/OAS process:

1.      Absolutely never, ever, ever lose your landing/immigration documents. EVER. If you have lost them already, reapply for them long before you need them.

2.      Pop to the loo before getting into the lineup/queue at the Service Canada centre in the Harry Hays building.

3.      Don’t ever change your name.

4.      If you are in desperate need for a post-document-processing coffee, there’s no longer a coffee shop in the Harry Hays building, . . .  so expect a long-ish walk to the nearest Timmy’s or Starbucks.

5.      Applying for CPP/OAS appears to be a whole lot easier if you 

     (a) are born in Canada, 

     (b) don’t have a spouse/partner, and 

     (c) don’t have children born after 1958.

 If you are applying for the Child Rearing Provision as well, your best guess around dates of Family Allowance cheques had best be a good guess.

What about this name change thing?

I do not have a “married” name; the surname name I use is my birth name. But, . . . some 36 years ago I added my mother’s maiden name as an extra middle name. So the name I was born with, the name I emigrated with, and the name I use now are different. Complicates things? Not sure. I certainly hope not, but that Change of Name documentation becomes very important. I imagine that for women who do change their name and take their husband’s surname, the marriage certificate becomes important. I’m assuming that if there’s been more than one marriage and more than one change of name, all those documents become important.

No judgement on my part; women may do whatever they want with their last names. And in the spirit of inclusivity, men who change their names will also need to pay attention to the extra documentation. Same goes for any folks transitioning to a new gender.

What’s next?

Now I have to tackle my British pension application!

Fortunately, that pension kicks in a little later than CPP.  

The later timing of the British pension is thanks to the mess various governments have made with pensions – especially women’s pensions and especially for women in my age range. But, . . . that’s a conversation for another day, and the poor Brits are too busy dealing with Brexit to worry about the pensions of women.  

So I do have time to recover from my form-filling adventures for Blue Cross, LAPP, and CPP/OAS before starting my British pension application.

Miscellaneous

Other than being swooped into form-filling hell and clawing my way out, semi-retirement is progressing as it should. February 21 marks eight months since leaving SAIT. I’m still trying to figure out the “What’s my value?” question, but I am starting to feel a little more settled as a semi-retired person.

February in Alberta has been the coldest February on record in 83 years, and one of the things I have come to appreciate about being semi-retired is that I can roll over in bed until it is finally light outside (currently around 07:30), and I can spend the first hour or so in my PJs and bunny slippers sipping tea, playing with the cats, and catching up on either Face Book or my reading.

However, roll on better weather because I’m itching to get back into the garden, and I'm itching to be out at the stables without having to bundle up like the Michelin Tyre man.