Saturday, 29 June 2019

The Not Yet Pensioner

A few months back, being both over sixty five years old and a little short of cash (I was ripped off by some far-from-honourable Brit employees some years ago), it came to my notice that I could get a pension here in Spain.
Now, I have contributed to the system with fourteen years of social security 'autonomous' payments, generally known as 'el impuesto revolucionario', and while you need seventeen years worth before consideration for a thousand or twelve hundred euros or so, anything less is considered to be a non-contributive pension, currently worth around 390 euros per month.
It ain't much, but the wolves are out there.
After getting ripped-off by the rascally employees, and then later by a loutish family-member, there's little left under the mattress.
So, I fill out the forms: yes, yes, no, you're kidding, no and yes, and hand it in to the pension people.
Now, a mere two months later, a fellow called José Francisco says he wants to now how long I've lived here as a resident (it says so right there on the Communitarian Citizens Police Letter which I had sent them, the thing that took over from the Residents' ID Card) and he also wants to know how much, if anything, I get from the UK as a pension. Nothing, not a sausage, nada since I left the place at a Tender Age.
Unlike José Francisco, who can look forward to a couple of thousand a month when he reaches retirement age, I'm fighting here for 392€ in fourteen (!) easy-to-cash annual payments, which will cover the utilities, plus a cheese sandwich twice a year.
So, I've written to some address in Newcastle Upon Tyne asking for them to look me up in their ledgers. I don't have a British ID number, or a social security number either, so I look forward to their reply in interest.
Between this document, duly translated officially, together with a letter from the immigration people in Almería, I shall be ready for Round Two with José Francisco.
Maybe by Christmas.

16 October: Well, sod all has happened so far, with no reply from the British funcionarios in Newcastle. No reply! They only need to say 'Nope, never heard of him', or 'Geez, I hope he isn't deported, destitute, back to the UK, because we won't do fuck all for him then, either'.
I wrote to them twice, then sent an email. But, not a word.
So, I've written a cringer to José Francisco, saying that the Brits can't be arsed to answer, but the bank says I don't get a bean from Foreign Parts, and could he please review my case.
The Fraudsters meanwhile make light of my poverty, but, you know, fuck 'em.  

1 comment:

  1. Good luck, Lenox!
    I, too, left the UK hundreds of years ago and only paid into the system for 18 years! Now I am told that means diddly squat. It does make me wonder what happened to all the money I paid into the UK system, into the Singapore, Thai, Us, and HK systems too, none of which would ever recognise my contributions as enough to qualify for any pensionable return.
    It was a lot of money and I. Ow regret complying with the law because there is no recourse for me.
    Let's not even start about lout-ish family members!
    Hope it goes well for you.