Sunday 17 July 2011

On Queues and Security

I needed to get my passport renewed in a rush the other week, so after some reearch I decided to go up to Victoria and apply in person.  This was surprisingly easy to organise, despite the fact that the Web site said it was hard to get an appointment at this time of year.

It's a new building, bigger and swisher than the old place I half-remember on Petty France.  And they take security, and flow of applicants, very seriously.  High security screening on the way in, then you queue to confirm what documents you have and get a ticket - a bit like the deli counter at Sainsbury's - for the queue you should go to.  Then from that queue, (which when I joined to it seemed to be a point at which a number of other routes through the system merged, so there were different ranges of ticket numbers), I went to a cubicle to present my documents.

The photos weren't good enough.

So the woman took all the documents, gave me another chit, and directed me to the Photo-Me booth where for a fiver I acquired some more (better, I guess) photographs.  Then I went downstairs again to the first queue to get a ticket so that I could queue again.  This time I was clearly on a different pathway (rephotography, I guess, or some such), as I got a number from a different series and I queued for less time.  And saw a chap in a different cubicle who could still (successfully! Hurrah! I had been getting nervous) find my documents, check and add in my photos, and then give me a ticket for another queue.

Where I went, and queued, and eventually paid.  

And got another chit with a number I could use to track the eventual delivery of my new passport.

Now, you may say that all of this queueing is actually more efficient (it probably is), and it is certainly very British.  And there are lots of uniformed chaps and chapesses making sure the queues are neat and tidy and don't go off in the wrong direction and marginally impede another applicant heading for a different queue.  Overall, though, the impression from all of those uniforms and all that ordered waiting, is one of serious security management.  And this is continued after the visit.

Because I wan't in when the secure courier first tried to deliver the passport (for which you are required to have several other forms of identification handy to satisfy the courier that you are the person you claim to be), I had to schedule a further visit.  The service which manages this requires a long PIN and some other details.  So I rang them up (more queueing), only to find an automated system including a voice recognition tool that didn't. The Web site isn't great, and doesn't send confirmation of the fact that you've successfully re-booked - at least not that quickly.  So I struggled.

Eventually I outwitted the automated phone system and found a route through to a human (or I guess a far better automated system, but I think not).  Of course there was a queue for him, but he was very helpful - once he'd taken me though all the security to confirm that I was me.

So with the day arranged, and me working from home, the courier arrived.

On a low-spec motor scooter with L plates.  And he asked for a signature, but no documents.  It was as tho' they'd decided that for the last mile of the journey my serious, secure, much-queued-for passport could be entrusted to the local Pizza delivery boy, as he was going that way anyway.   Rather sweet, really.

Still, it worked, so I can't complain.

Now, I wonder where I put it?

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