Five years ago I turned incandescent with rage when some idiot reversed into my brand new motorcycle in a restaurant’s parking lot, doing damage worth R2500.
My rage was not directed at the driver, though, but at the arrogance of his insurance company. The motorcycle was parked on private property and I was inside the building when the deed was done, so this could not be classed as a motor accident. The bakkie driver admitted his liability, apologised and told me he’d claim on his insurance. I later phoned his insurers to confirm they’d received their client’s claim form and would sort out the repair bill. I gave them the quotes and my bank account number and waited for the money.
Then came the bombshell. A week later I received not a cheque, but a list of demands. First, they wanted a copy of my driver’s licence and my ID document, and a report from me stating exactly what had happened. With slightly bristling hackles I did the necessary and sat back to wait.
Then came Stage Two of the onslaught. Please forward us a copy of your motorcycle’s registration certificate, they demanded. I didn’t have it, of course, because that document was in the hands of the bank who’d financed the deal, so I had to ask the bank – in writing, of course – to forward me a copy. A week later came another e-mail from the insurance company, demanding I confirm in writing that I would not be claiming on my own insurance policy. This I did, but my computer’s keyboard sank half an inch into my desk as I pounded out my reply.
More from Gavin Foster: Pyromaniac tendencies
You’d think that the goon handling the matter at Mutual Federal would have realised by now that I wasn’t going to go away, and ordered the cheque to be issued. No such luck. The next e-mail to drop smouldering in my inbox told me my statement had to be backed by a letter from my insurance company confirming they knew of the incident and they wouldn’t be paying for the damage. When I read this mail my liver went into a spasm and the nervous tic I’d developed in my left eye transformed into a full-blown never-ending flutter. Anyway, I complied.
The next correspondence I received gave every indication that my tormentor had capitulated. There it was – a form requesting my banking details so a deposit could be made. Hooray! Then I read the bottom line. “If a savings/transmission account, this form must be stamped by your bank as confirmation of the above account details”.
I snapped. This worm was turning. I sat down and started writing.
“In the spirit of the way things have progressed so far I must request that you urgently forward me the following documentation:
1) A certified copy of the Articles of Association of your company.
2) A letter, certified by a Commissioner of Oaths, declaring that the person making the transfer on behalf of your company is empowered to do so.
3) A certified copy of the identity document of the person facilitating the transfer, as well as that of your CEO.
4) A copy of your client’s statement describing exactly how he managed to knock over the parked and unattended motorcycle that he had walked right past immediately prior to getting into his vehicle.
5) A copy of your client’s ID document and driver’s licence.
6) A copy of your CEO’s driver’s licence. I realise that this might seem irrelevant, but no more so than your request for mine, seeing I was nowhere near my parked motorcycle at the time of the incident.
7) A letter from your corporate insurer, declaring that you will not be claiming from me for any damage to your client’s vehicle or reputation as a driver.
A copy of the registration certificate of your client’s vehicle.
9) A letter from your bank, stating that the account making the payment is indeed that of your company.
Red tape
Once I have received all of the above I can instruct my lawyer to halt the civil action he has instigated at my request.
I’m peeved that your client’s bad driving has resulted in more red tape than would have been required to open a brothel in the Vatican. He knocked over my parked motorcycle, and that has resulted in me making countless trunk calls, spending time and money on visits to banks, and sending numerous e-mails and faxes.”
Guess what. They never sent any of that, but they eventually paid me.
I feel a need to write another letter now. This month a small annuity of mine matured. The life assurance company involved wants to pay some money into my account. The only problem is I have to go to my bank and get a printed statement reflecting my full details to prove the account I want credited is really mine. This, by the way, is the exact same account they’ve been dipping into for the past 180 months without question …