Opinion | Columnists
A code! A code! My kingdom for a barcode!
I have logged on at odd hours of the day and night. I've used laptops, desktops, PCs and Macs. Bill Gates and Steve Jobs combined wouldn't manage to fill in the form or get that barcode.
- By Mick O'Reilly, Deputy Managing Editor
- Published: 23:35 November 20, 2008
Hi, my name is Mick and I'm a failure. I feel defeated, a total moron, a complete non-achiever.
Never, in all my 48 years of taking up oxygen have I been so humbled by the simple task of filling out a form.
I've managed to complete tax returns, figure out capital gains taxes, probate forms, passport applications, marriage licences and every other sort of bureaucratic brainteaser ever thrown my way.
But never before have I been humiliated by the sheer magnitude of trying to complete the ID form on line.
I'm told that the forms are readily available at Emirates Post Offices. I can tell you that not a single copy of the forms exists anywhere in any postal outlet in Abu Dhabi, Dubai, Sharjah or Ajman. I can also tell you who ever perpetrated the fact that there are forms is responsible for the latest whopper of a hoax equivalent in scale to the Discovery of Cold Fusion or the Unearthing of the Hitler Diaries.
Some one a lot wiser than I said that if it's too good to be true, it is too good to be true. And it was simply too good to be true that I could drop down to my local Emirates Post Office, hand over Dh40 and walk away with a form. Trust me, if it was that easy, I'd pay Dh400 for a form, just to get this behind me.
I'm borderline depressed and getting ever more resentful of those smug professionals who look down on me because I have failed at every attempt to successfully fill in the online form.
I have become so desperate that I have resorted to carrying a USB flash drive wherever I go so I can log on to a computer and try for the umpteenth time to get a completed form with a barcode.
I have become envious to the point that I look at some of my colleagues who have successfully managed the task.
I hear them laughing, see them sneering, listen to their whispers and feel their disdain.
What makes them think they're soooooooo special, just because they managed to fill out a form anyway.
Do you know that one of them even had the nerve to reach into a drawer as I was complaining about my situation - he reached into a drawer and showed me a form - barcode and all. Imagine! I can't tell you the effect that had on me. I'm psychologically scarred for life.
I have experienced feelings of shock, denial, bargaining, guilt, anger and depression. To this point in this whole bureaucratic process, I have yet to feel hope.
I have logged on at odd hours of the day and night, at weekends and during workday. I've used laptops, desktops, PCs and Macs. I can tell you Bill Gates and Steve Jobs combined wouldn't manage to fill in the form or get that barcode.
I don't really need much, I'm comfortable, successful, a proud father, have a good career and am well travelled and educated. All I want is a barcode. (Okay. An appointment would be nice, too).
I've tried to save the form without success. I've seen that little spinning icon for hours on end as the bytes do whatever bytes do - but don't.
I've sought an appointment in the hopes of being able to complete a form between now and then, but nothing so far.
I've searched for appointments in Fujairah, Ras Al Khaimah, Umm Al Quwain, Ajman and Dubai.
Nothing.
I have SMS alerts giving me all sorts of numbers to key in for appointments, none of which work. I've tried to get an appointment as a family of one, sending myself to different appointments.
Nothing.
I have tried using computers in libraries, at home, at work.
Nothing.
I don't want much. Just a form. Please! I promise I'll use a typing centre. (Just not the same guy in Al Barsha who filled out my driver's licence form, sent me to Media City, then had me waste three hours in the Free Zone area looking for a licence, only to be told to go back where I started in the first place!)
I think if I had a successfully completed form I could retire happy. I would make a donation to charity, do something really nice for a complete stranger. I would turn a new leaf, never uttering a bad word under my breath about bureaucrats.
I promise that if I manage to get an ID form and appointment before the New Year, I will give up smoking my Romeo and Juliettas No. 2's.
Things have gotten so bad now that my wife has given up complaining to me. She sees how I'm a broken, shattered shell of a professional. How has it all come to this? Where did I go wrong? How can I go on ...?
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