Identity Crisis

In this world of computer banking, plastic money and internet shopping we are constantly being reminded to protect our pins and guard our passwords. Well I’m not as good on my pins as I used to be and if I have more than one password to remember I'm completely stuffed. Identity theft is on the increase. Imagine my surprise, therefore, when I find that my identity has been stolen by none other than that great British institution BT. Or was it Cellnet or O2. They do seem to keep changing their own identity. What do they have to hide? Perhaps it's to sidestep the number of complaints? 'The in trays are full again. Time to re-brand.' That thieving little prancing piper has disappeared and quite probably is wanted for theft all around the country, if my experience is anything to go by.

I've had a mobile phone account since the time you had to drive to within 20 miles of Manchester to ring someone up. Provided they also lived in Manchester or London, that is. The trouble was, they have always had my name down as Mike. Looking back this doesn't seem so bad, although my name is not Mike. There was always an element of confusion when I had to speak to anyone about my account. After several years however, and during one of these confusing conversations, when I was asked to confirm my name, I decided to explain that although they had me down as Mike, my name was in fact Dave. Perhaps I didn't explain it very well. Perhaps the computer system didn't allow first name changes. Perhaps the administrator was having a bad day. Suffice to say that my name is no longer listed as Mike on the mobile phone account. I am now known as Unknown. Every month I receive a statement addressed to Mr. Unknown Carr. Worse than that in fact, they haven't even spelt unknown correctly, missing out the first n. I’m a lost soul wandering the shadowy basement tapes of the computers of a corporate machine. A nameless fish in a faceless pond.

My first thoughts were to correct this error but this would inevitably involve another of those conversations, probably preceded by a good deal of button pushing and listening to Enya. On the other hand, I thought, perhaps there could be some advantage in being Mr. Unknown. It does have a certain mystique to it. International man of mystery - Mr Unknown. Maybe I could even one day become referred to as 'The Great Unknown.'

Perhaps I would be able to open a bank account in the name of Unknown. They wouldn't believe me of course but I could take in my mobile phone bill to confirm my name and address. There must be a benefit to be had. A credit card perhaps? I could run up some horrendous bills and simply deny all knowledge. I'm sure others must have played the system. Johnny Cash for example. "Let’s see now - concert at the Hollywood Bowl. That'll be three hundred thousand dollars, please. Just make it out to Cash."

I thought about ordering a gravestone in the shape of a mobile phone simply bearing the word 'Unknown'. In Paris the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is visited by thousands.
‘The Tomb of the Unknown Mobile Phone Customer’. Well you can’t argue it doesn’t have a ring to it. But there again, I can’t see it being much of an attraction.

To be quite honest, I'm surprised that the post office actually delivers my phone bills. I suppose I could send them back marked, ‘Unknown at this address.’ If I wasn't already paying by direct debit, that would be worth a try. Still, the court case might have been interesting.
The case of BT verses the Unknown.

I wonder what the passport office would make of it. I might get some strange looks going through customs. On second thoughts I'd probably find my house swarming with MI5 officers if I tried to obtain a passport under the name of Unknown. Or worse still, wind up in some eastern jail trying to explain it away. "It was all a big mistake - honest. Just ask BT. Ring their call centre - India something or other isn't it?"

No - on reflection, I can’t actually think of any real benefit to being completely nameless and obscure.

“Hello, BT? - I’m more than a number in your big yellow book. My parents gave me that name in good faith. It’s mine and you’ve no right to take it. I want my identity back. What? OK I’ll hold.”