I dialled the number.

“Good morning,” came a voice. “Ministry of Social Development. Can I help you?”

“I’m not sure,” I replied. “It depends on what mood you’re in today.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, “I don’t know what you mean…”

“Well, yesterday you sent me an email, informing me that I was dead – dead since December 16, last year, to be exact.”

“I’m sorry… I don’t understand…”

“You, or one of your colleagues, sent me an email yesterday – correctly spelt name – Derek Lynn John – to the right email address – lynn@orcon.net.nz – informing me that I had ‘passed away’ and that, as a result, you were stopping my Superannuation payments.”

She laughed, more of a gurgle really, then immediately apologised, and said, “Oh, I’m dreadfully sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh…”

“That’s OK,” I said, “I laughed too when I first read your email. I did. Totally understandable. But the problem now is how do I prove that I am who I say I am? I could be speaking to you from the grave, or, I could be pretending, lying to you, to gain Derek Lynn John’s superannuation payments. How are you going to know?”

“Well… I don’t quite know what to say…”

“What’s your name, please?”

She told me her name. (I’m not divulging it here)

“Now, how do I know you are who you say you are? How are you going to prove it to me? Do you get someone to come on the phone at your end, in Wellington, to swear you are who you say you are. And then he or she would have to prove who he or she is. Do you follow me?”

“Yes.”

She said she’d ring me back.

To be continued...