They’ve got your number

Now that I’ve started working, I need a National Insurance Number. You call the Work and Pensions (W&P) Department to get one, a call that you are charged for. I don’t think I should have to pay to call the government, but that’s just me. I got a pompous English woman whose first question was: Where do you live? I assumed she was thrown by my American accent so I said “in the UK.” She asked me my name. I spelled it (P as in Paul, N as in Nancy). She got it wrong. I spelled it again. She got it wrong again. Third time was the charm. She asked for my address.

When I gave her my postal code, she said I needed to call a different number. She handles only the mainland and Northern Ireland has a different number. I’d been on the phone for 12 minutes. Without an edge in my voice, I said, since I’m paying for this call, it would have been helpful to know that at the start.
“But you said you live in the UK.” she said.
“Northern Ireland is in the UK.” I said.
“Well I can’t help you, you have to call the Northern Ireland number.” Snooty voice.
I’ve learned this is quite common. English people don’t know or care about Northern Ireland and it’s membership in the kingdom.

So I call the Northern Ireland number and get a woman who was as sweet as the other woman was sour. She did, however, ask me at least a dozen questions that I found annoying. I’m being treated as a consultant by Preventable Surprises because they have funding for only three months. If they get a grant, they’ll make me an employee. The W&P woman would be happier if PS listed me as an employee. She asked me the nature of my self employment. Do I work for others? Yes. How do I solicit work? I don’t solicit work, I do freelance work for two places, I don’t want more than that. There was a lot of discussion of how I would prove that I’m self-employed and what evidence I could show of my income. I made an appointment to bring my documentation in to try to get a national insurance number. She was extremely helpful, but the system is just paranoid. It’s all about trying to keep you from applying for benefits.

Anyway, three minutes after we hung up, the phone rings and a man from W&P asks me if I’ve lived in Northern Ireland before? Yes. "What was your address?" 14 Gleneen Park, Derry. “You already have a national insurance number.” I have no idea why. It either has to do with me getting one automatically when I turned 16 while living here (even though my parents weren’t citizens?). Or it was because I worked in my boyfriend’s parents’ newsagents shop as a teenager. Maybe they applied for it? Regardless, after that runaround, I already have a number!!
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