Posts Tagged ‘LSO1 lost passport form’

UK fast track and premium passport service

July 4, 2008

Applying for your passport under one of these services? Read what happened to me and then consider if you really want to put yourself through this. I think the Home Office passport service must be in melt down. That’s the best reason I can think of for the dire service I received and for the attitude of staff towards me, which was, to say the very least, rude. I have been told that failure to meet the guaranteed seven days service for Fast Track service is due to human eror caused by the numbers of people applying, yet with an 11.45 appointment, I entered the building at 11.25 and was through the procedure and relieved of my £97 by 11.32. Targets to meet?

Here is my story!

“They took my 97 quid and all I got was this!”

For images missing from the original article:

http://frommybigdesk.blogspot.com/search/label/UK%20passports

Let me start at the very beginning!

A few months ago, my son and his partner travelled on Eurostar to Belgium. I just happened to mention that I would quite fancy trying out Eurostar and my son told me that he had a special offer on tickets and why didn’t we all (son + partner + me) go to Paris sometime before the offer expired? Great idea. I love Paris!

So, that was how it all started and I shall tell you how I ended up paying £97 for the above receipt, which would shame a, “Pound shop,” for its lack of professional quality, losing three days’ wages and not getting to Paris! Oh, and being treated in a manner, which can only be described as, “shabby,” by the London Identity and Passport Service.

Ok, so we have a plan! We are all going to Paris! My son booked the seats on Eurostar and gave me time and date. All I needed then was a passport. My old one, which I had not used since 1999, and which expired in April 2007, was somewhere around the house, but a search of the obvious and not-so-obvious places did not result in finding it. No matter: it would have been useful to have the old one in applying for a new one, but a new application would have to be made anyway. I hadn’t seen that passport for a number of years and had no idea in what, “safe place,” I might have put it!

So, I collect a passport application form from the Post Office and discover that I need a UK passport holder to countersign. No problem! I ask a friend who has known me for around 10 years, but unfortunately, he can’t find his passport. Time is getting on and I have around three weeks to get my passport after several weeks of his not finding his passport and not finding his passport!

So, I ask someone who has known me for around 17 years, but who does not live in my town. I meet up with this person on a shared holiday. He signs the form, but has forgotten to bring his passport. He will phone me with the passport number. It is now just over two weeks before the planned date of departure for my Eurostar experience.

The friend phones with the passport number and the following day I go to the Post Office to make use of their, “Check and send,” (or words to that effect!) service. I complete form LSO1, lost passport form, and the woman at the PO counter checks my application form. There are problems! My photograph is not full-face and the woman notes that the passport number has obviously not been written in by the person countersigning.

Right! It’s now just under two weeks to the planned trip! I need to get another person, who has known me for more than 2 years, to countersign another form. I ask the licensee at my local shop. He, being a very kind person, helps in my time of need. I go back to the Post Office to have the form checked! Everything is OK apart from the fact that my signature is a fraction of a millimetre onto the brown border!

So, I go back to my friendly local shopkeeper and he signs another form for me. There is now 10 days to go until Eurostar leaves St Pancras at 11am on Friday 13th June. I phone the national passport service helpline. I am told that if I want my passport for the day before the trip, which is, of course necessary, given the time the train leaves, I will have to have an interview at a passport office before 12 noon on Thursday 5th June, that being the latest time for the guaranteed delivery of my passport by Thursday 12th June. An appointment is made for 11.45 on Thursday 5th June at the London office of the Passport and Identity Service.

I could do without all this because I work for an agency, which means I don’t go to work, I don’t get paid and this means a day off. However, my very kind son has booked a treat for his mother and I really don’t want to let him down. My son really is a very kind person.

Anyway, I have my appointment, I am told to arrive at least 10 minutes early, and I find a Google map for the address and postcode given: 89 Eccleston Square, SW1V 1PN.

View Larger Map

I will refer to this map a little later.

I set off really early on the morning of Thursday June 5th, allowing time for late-running trains, crossing London on the tube, and finding Eccleston Square. I arrive at Victoria at just after 11.05, with what looks like a short walk from the station to Eccleston Square. (Please now refer to map. Eccleston Square is a, “U,” shape with a blue marker on the right-hand arm of the, “U.” )

11.10, I start at the nearest point on Eccleston Square, the left-hand arm of the, “U,” and finding low numbers, assume that number 89 must be near the other end! However, at the other end of the, “U,” is number 70-something! I turn right into Belgrave Road to see if the numbers continue, but they do only for one or two buildings. I turn left, back into Eccleston Square, thinking there must be some logic to this, somewhere! The blue marker on the right-hand arm of the, “U,” denotes where I then spotted a police van! Great! They should know!

There are two uniformed officers in the van, and I approach the passenger side, which is nearest to the kerb. The officer in the passenger seat looks at me and does nothing! I signal for him to lower the window. He does. “Can you tell me where the passport office is, please?” The officer points in the direction towards the base of the, “U,” in the opposite direction to Belgrave Road. “It’s on the corner round there,” he says.

So, off I go. It’s now 11.20 and I reassure myself that I will, indeed, arrive 10 minutes early. I walk right round Eccleston Square, and I don’t find number 89 or the passport office, and I walk up the left-hand side of the, “U,” towards Belgrave Road, where I spot a workman outside one of the houses. “Can you tell me where the passport office is, please?” He points towards Belgrave Road and tells me to cross the road and it’s on the corner. (Please refer once again to the map. The passport office is located by the blue marker on what is denoted as Belgrave Road.)

I arrive at the passport office at 11.25, with certain expectations of what constitutes an, “interview.” Hah! That’s as sensible as my thinking that 89 Eccleston Square would be in the road indicated by that name on the map!

Through the heavy glass doors I go, and come face-to-face with a group of security guards, who point me towards a glass booth on my left. I go over there and tell the person behind the glass that I have an appointment. I am told to see the security guards. I do and they show me the way to the metal detector, which I pass through, having placed my bag on a conveyor belt, and my bunch of keys in a plastic basket. I am then directed to another reception desk, a very high one that, at 5′ 0″, I can hardly see over. I give my reference number and I get a numbered ticket, just like the cheese counter at Sainsbury’s! “Go to the second floor. Lift over there.” says the person allocating the numbers. I do!

On the second floor there are rows of seats, with a few people sitting there. There are two large screens, one with a list of numbers, denoting who is waiting. This is more like Argos than Sainsbury’s cheese counter! A bot voice is calling out numbers one after the other and telling the holders which cubicle to go to. My number comes up and I go to the cubicle as directed.

As I said, I had certain expectations of what constitutes an, “interview.” The cubicle I arrived at was more like a public phone booth, with glass panels on either side, and a woman sitting behind a counter, in an elevated position. So, there I am, again, 5′ 0″ having to raise my arms to place my forms on the counter. I wait for some kind of introductory greeting from this person who is supposed to be interviewing me, something like, “Hello,” maybe. She puts on an impatient face and says, “Got your form?”

“Got your form?” Well, I would expect a more courteous standard of communication at the cheese counter at Sainsbury’s! I pass the form over. “Your old passport is lost?” This woman is looking more and more irritated! “I’ve completed an LSO1. Would you like it?” Curl of the mouth and, “Has it been checked?” “Yes,” I say, “It was checked at the psot office.” The woman extends a hand and I place the form in it.

While I stand there thinking, “What on earth have I come to?” the woman taps away on her keyboard and compares what is on my form to what she is reading on her monitor. I ask if she is managing to access my old passport details. After a few seconds, she says, “Yes.” I ask is everything ok then? She says, “Yes.”

“Have you got proof of ID and address?” Yes, I have brought my birth certificate, my marriage certificate, my driver’s licence, and a bank statement. I ask which the woman would like to see and she asks for the bank statement. I locate the envelope and hold it out.

The woman looks at me as though I am passing something contaminated and says. “Take it out of the enveolpe.” Now, I may be old-fashioned, but I would have expected something like, “Would you mind taking it out of the envelope, please?”, even if you never know who might be trying to spread dreadful diseases like anthrax, even a 5′ 0″ grandma of one! And if I were a terrorist, cunningly disguised as 5′ 0″ grandma of one, would such a command, issued in a seemingly disgusted tone of voice, put me off spreading anthrax?

Anyway, bank statement gets taken out of the envelope and passed over. I ask if my birth certificate is needed. “No.” Then, after a few key strokes, I am handed a flimsy piece of paper and told to pay at one of the cubicles opposite. The person at this other cubicle takes my £97 in cash, and hands me, in return, the receipt copied at the top of this post. I am told that my passport will arrive on Thursday 12th June, sometime between 8am and 6pm. I look at the flimsy receipt and it occurs to me that a receipt from a, “Pound shop,” would have more detail and look more professional. This is what I get to show that I have travelled here and been through an, “interview,” with the, “Got your form?” woman? Having arrived at 11.25, for an 11.45 interview, my 3″x5″ piece of paper bears the time, 11.32.

I leave the passport office, feeling somewhat peeved at the lack of courtesy shown, but glad that it’s over, and my passport will arrive the day before my trip.

So, gentle reader, if you have read thus far, I thank you and I will create a little break and carry on in part 2!

Part 2:

Terrorist,” granny in funny hat found with nail scissors in her toilet bag! OMG!!!
(That hat had a flower on it! Obviously suspect!)
So, we come to Wednesday June 11th. On that day, I decided that I’d better get my Euros and my travel insurance, since I had no idea when, between 8am and 6pm the following day, my passport would arrive. I return home with my holiday spending money and a travel insurance pack, at around 6pm. I check my messages on 1571 and I have a strange one, of which this is an accurate transcript! (Identifying details crossed out. Lots of, “ers,” and, “ums,” not included!)

Hello Miss, eh, Mrs xxxxxx. This is London Identity and Passport Service. I have to give you a call regarding your forename. In your previous passport, the one that was lost, we managed to get the file and it has got your forename is xxxxxxx, your surname is (as?) xxxxxx. I am unable to add xxx….xx….xx, xxxx, Weed (sic!) because it is not in your previous passport and you have not stated in your application form on Section 8 that you wanted forenames to be added as a forename. You only wrote your old passport was lost at home somewhere. That was it. We have got to do according to the procedure for you..er..for us to implement the same name, xxxxxxx xxxxxx.

If you are not happy, well you have to send me* a letter, otherwise you will not receive your passport in time. We have got to go according to the old passport, which is xxxxxxx xxxxxx.

OK. Bye bye now.”

*Me? Who?

Telephone number recorded on caller ID as, “Number withheld.”

Now, I had big trouble trying to understand the message this person had been trying to convey, in heavily accented English, but after listening to it quite a few times, I finally decided that from the underlined section I could extrapolate that if I was happy and I didn’t send, “me,” a letter, that I would get my passport on time.

OK, so now we have arrived at Thursday June 12th, the day that my £97 is supposed to guarantee delivery, by courier, of my passport! Another day off work, which I lose another day’s pay for, but I really don’t want to disappoint my very kind son, who has booked the trip as a treat, knowing how much I love Paris!

I am up early on the morning of Thursday June 12th, ready to receive my passport at any time from 8am onwards. Well, time grinds onwards; I have lunch and still no passport, but I’m not getting worried yet. I spend the afternoon at my PC, not concerned until around 4.30pm, I decide that I will just check to reassure myself that the passport is coming.

I phone the national number given on the Passport and Identity Service web site. I am told that my passport was printed on Wednesday, but it has not gone to the courier. This worries me somewhat, but the person on the helpline tells me to wait until 6pm, since passports are sent to the courier at regular intervals throughout the day.

At 6pm, no passport! I call the national helpline and I am told that they have no way of knowing where my passport is, only that it has not gone to the courier, and I cannot contact the London office as their phone line closes at 5pm. All I can do is call the London office after 9am on the Friday morning. This causes some upset and I ask the person how I can travel to London for a 10.30 check-in at St Pancras if I cannot even talk to anyone before 9am? I am told that this is all that can be suggested. I take up the offer to make a complaint and ask for the response in writing.

Now, if I had not found the, “Fast track,” service, guaranteeing a 7 day service for £97, I would have reluctantly told my son that I was very sorry, but I did not have a passport, couldn’t go, and wished him and his partner a happy trip. I would have been disappointed, but life is full of disappointments. However, having found the, “Fast track,” service, I thought I was going to be able to travel with my son and make sure his kindness was appreciated!

So, I have to make a decision. I have already spent £97, lost two days’ wages and spent some considerable time on this. I decide that the only hope of getting my passport is to travel to London on the Thursday evening and be at the passport office by 9am, where hopefully my passport will be waiting, since at 6pm it had not gone to the courier.

This is what I did. My son met me, I stayed overnight, and my son accompanied me to the passport office, arriving there before 9am, my son carrying my heavy bag. Ever hopeful! Get the passport, straight on to St Pancras!

Through the glass doors, past the security guards to the glassed reception, tell the person I want to find out where my passport is, get sent back to the security guards, directed to metal detector. I have to go to the second floor. My son suggests that I go ahead and he follows me, carrying my bag. I go to the next reception desk and get my, “cheese counter,” ticket. As I turn back, I realise that there is some kind of altercation over at the metal detector. I hear my son say, “It’s my mother’s bag. She’s just over there.” I don’t hear what the security person, who has a grip on my bag, is saying, but I then hear my son say, “Why are you talking to me like that?” He sounds very offended.

So, over I go, to try to find out what is happening. My son has a hand on my bag and the security person is holding the bag tightly. I ask what is the problem and I am told that there is a pair of scissors in the bag, showing up on the metal detector. Right! I am told that I must remove the scissors! I rummage through my bag, having decided that the only thing likely to contain scissors is my toilet bag and sure enough, there’s a small pair of nail scissors at the bottom of it. I remove the scissors and place them in the polythene bag being held open by another security guard. I then have to wait while a receipt is written for my nail scissors.

So, finally up to the second floor, where I wait for my number to come up, and I walk to the cubicle indicated by the bot voice. Once again, it’s the cubicle that looks like a public pay phone. I describe the problem to the man behind the elevated desk and he goes off to see if he can find out where my passport is. He comes back twice to give me an update, each time telling me that he has not yet found any information. I go to let my son know what is happening. He is sitting out in the rows of seats, under the two large screens with the lists of numbers. I go back to my cubicle and wait. The man finally returns, after about 10 minutes, and tells me that the passport is on its way to my home address…around two and a half hours of travel from where I am in Victoria, and therefore ruling out my getting to St Pancras for a 10.30am check-in!

At this point what I feel is that I have let my son down. This is what upsets me. He has gone to some considerable trouble to organise a treat for me and I can’t go because I have no passport. I feel like an idiot for all the assumptions I have made about interviews and guarantees! We have a cup of tea, my son and I, he goes on to St Pancras to meet up with his partner, and I make my way home, lugging my heavy bag and my handbag in which is my travel insurance document and my Euros. I still have those Euros. They are symbolic, not of my missed holiday, but of my shabby treatment by the Passport and Identity Service and I can’t even bear to look at them.

When I arrive home, I write a letter of complaint. Two weeks later, I receive an acknowledgement and the information that my complaint will be dealt with, within two weeks.

Yesterday, I received a letter. Here are a few details:

“Please be assured that we set high standards of Customer Service including the care of applications and supporting documents and the response to enquiries and complaints. All our staff are trained and encouraged to meet these standards and I am sorry that you did not share this experience. However, given the volume of passport applications dealt with on a daily basis, unfortunately some human error does occur.”

Now, would that person call my interviewer’s rudeness, “human error.”?

“Our system shows that you submitted your application on 05th June, 2008, and your passport was printed on 11th June, and then delivered on the 13th which was, indeed, the day after the passport was due.”

The gentleman signing the letter then goes on to say that he is very pleased to say that he is sending me, under separate cover, a refund of £25! After all that! A refund of 25 quid! TWENTY-FIVE QUID! That’s more of an insult than no refund at all! Three days of lost wages; one for my travel to the so-called, “interview,”; one for sitting here like an idiot waiting for the delivery that didn’t come; one for going to London trying to take possession of my passport. Add to that thoroughly discourteous service, for which the staff are said to be trained (!!!) and I am offered TWENTY-FIVE QUID! It’s not even better than a slap in the face with a wet fish!

I suppose there is always my 3″x5″ flimsy, would-shame-a-pound-shop receipt! My passport was waiting when I arrived home, about two hours after my train would have left St Pancras. It remains unopened. And I am offered twenty-five quid! Well, the man who dictated that letter may be pleased, but I am certainly not! I am not so upset about the missed holiday as I am about the losses incidental to a contracted service not being delivered. It was that guarantee which led to the application and the journeys to London. So, losses are incidental to that guarantee.
That was my, “Fast track,” to Victoria and home! Zut alors! And the passport office is pleased to offer me a refund of £25!!!!
My son had a brilliant time on his first trip to Paris. I had been hoping to show him my favourite places, but hey! My twenty-five quid should be on its way soon. What more could I want?
This from a government office! Part of the Home office? I do get better service from the cheese counter at Sainsbury’s! And I always end up with something more than a flimsy receipt to show for my hard-earned cash that I hand over. At least I get some good quality cheese to enjoy!
And Mr Sainsbury’s staff always say, “..please,” and, “..thank you,” and, “Is there anything else I can help you with?”
Maybe Mr Sainsbury could do some training for the London Passport and Identity Service, starting with, “The customers are paying your wages. They are entitled to some courtesy for the money they pay for the service. Repeat after me. ‘Can I have your form, please?’

If only the passport service was run like the cheese counter at Sainsbury’s! If Mr Sainsbury’s staff behaved like those at the passport office, I am sure that they would be on their way out the door in double-quick time! But then, Mr Sainsbury knows that Customer Service is a very important part of any business. The passport service calls me a, “customer,” but I sure didn’t end up feeling like one!

****************************

Now, dear readers, telephone your local Trading Standards and ask this question: If British Gas offered to guarantee the servicing of my heating system on a particular day for £100, and I took an unpaid day off work, and they didn’t come, what might I be entitled to?

Watch this space folks if you too have been failed by the Home Office Fast Track or Premium passport service! I am going to try to set a precedent from which you may benefit! That guarantee is a contract and what you lose incidentally to that contract not being met is meaningful in law.


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