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The Signature
A couple of days ago, I decided to join the local co-operative society. Three factors decided this:
1) I shop at their many stores regularly anyway, so there would be value in their "loyalty card" kickbacks. It's not vast amounts of money, but it could be useful in a pinch.
2) They are a co-op, so it isn't really a loyalty card, but a membership card with voting rights. This makes a huge difference.
3) They have a built-in bank, so they can issue a Visa Debit card which also functions as the membership/loyalty card. This is considerably more useful than my existing Visa Electron card, which far too many machines and retailers do not take.
So I went to the local "big box" outlet that they run - and in which they have a proper service desk - and asked to join. Slight snag: they need to see a copy of my Population Register record (because they're effectively opening a bank account), which I haven't brought with me. Never mind, we can fill in the form and then I can come back later with the paperwork.
So we fill in the form very carefully, with my limited Finnish filling in for the clerk's limited English in places. The clerk instructs me not to sign the form yet, only when all the ID documents can be inspected at the same time.
The next day, I figure I should get a fresh copy of my record, because I've moved recently - this saves me locating my existing copy, which in any case has my old address on it. So I shuffle my way through the city to the correct office, identify myself, pay my bureaucratic dues, and leave with my fresh record copy. And then I shuffle my way back home to go to the service desk again.
This time I get a different clerk, who seems to have slightly better English. I show him the already-completed form, hand over my passport and Population Register record, and the membership participation fee (which, like all co-ops, acts as a share in the enterprise and is refundable).
He examines the documents, adds details to his section of the form, and signs it. I get my membership card - a temporary one for now - a set of codes for Internet banking, and my copy of the form back. And then it all seems to be done. So I ask:
"Isn't there anything I have to sign?"
Oops...
Yes indeed, I need to sign the original form, which the clerk had forgotten to check for. So we reassemble the carbon-paper stack of the original form, and I sign it.
"Could have ben a bit awkward, that."
1) I shop at their many stores regularly anyway, so there would be value in their "loyalty card" kickbacks. It's not vast amounts of money, but it could be useful in a pinch.
2) They are a co-op, so it isn't really a loyalty card, but a membership card with voting rights. This makes a huge difference.
3) They have a built-in bank, so they can issue a Visa Debit card which also functions as the membership/loyalty card. This is considerably more useful than my existing Visa Electron card, which far too many machines and retailers do not take.
So I went to the local "big box" outlet that they run - and in which they have a proper service desk - and asked to join. Slight snag: they need to see a copy of my Population Register record (because they're effectively opening a bank account), which I haven't brought with me. Never mind, we can fill in the form and then I can come back later with the paperwork.
So we fill in the form very carefully, with my limited Finnish filling in for the clerk's limited English in places. The clerk instructs me not to sign the form yet, only when all the ID documents can be inspected at the same time.
The next day, I figure I should get a fresh copy of my record, because I've moved recently - this saves me locating my existing copy, which in any case has my old address on it. So I shuffle my way through the city to the correct office, identify myself, pay my bureaucratic dues, and leave with my fresh record copy. And then I shuffle my way back home to go to the service desk again.
This time I get a different clerk, who seems to have slightly better English. I show him the already-completed form, hand over my passport and Population Register record, and the membership participation fee (which, like all co-ops, acts as a share in the enterprise and is refundable).
He examines the documents, adds details to his section of the form, and signs it. I get my membership card - a temporary one for now - a set of codes for Internet banking, and my copy of the form back. And then it all seems to be done. So I ask:
"Isn't there anything I have to sign?"
Oops...
Yes indeed, I need to sign the original form, which the clerk had forgotten to check for. So we reassemble the carbon-paper stack of the original form, and I sign it.
"Could have ben a bit awkward, that."