33, 34 and 35. New South Wales Medical Board, Tax File Numbers and Palandri Margaret River 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon

Oh where do I begin this story? Honestly, I feel like an extra in Faulty Towers or One Foot in the Grave. Nothing ever goes smoothly; there’s always a hitch or a problem that needs tackling in even the simplest of ventures. Not that I’m blaming other people as I’m positive that I often contribute to the disasters I come across.

So what was I saying? Oh yes, if you come to Australia to work as a doctor you have to jump through all the usual hoops for your visa and your work requirements but thanks to the likes of Harold Shipman and Dr Kvorkian we have to send all our original documentation to an international verification company in Philadelphia, USA to check that we are who we say we are and that our certificates are real.

I don’t really have a problem with this, after all if I was needing medical care I’d want to know that the person that was treating me was legitimate and not some mental case with a fake degree like the one that Dr Nick has in “The Simpsons” (his comes from “Upstairs Hollywood Medical School” in case you are interested).

Speaking of mental cases, the NSW Medical Board is located in the Gladesville Mental Hospital. Can you believe it? Not “Gladesville Psychiatric Unit”, not “Gladesville Hospital for Psychiatric Disorders”, but Gladesville Mental Hospital in bold lettering on the sign at the entrance to the grounds. I’m not the most PC person in the world but surely that’s not the wording that people use nowadays to describe nut jobs.

The name certainly suits the place though because when I first went to there I wondered for ages through the “One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest” grounds trying to find the building that the Board were located in.

You see after filling in all the bumf and crossing t’s and dotting i’s in the UK, I still had to turn up to the Board in person once I’d arrived in the country and register. I thought that it was a bit of a formality and so I mosied over there about 2 weeks before I was due to start working to pick up my Registration Certificate. As I’d gone through an agency to get my job I’d assumed that everything had been done for me. Not only that but I’d sent all my official paperwork to the States and they’d said everything was fine and they were going to notify the appropriate Australian authorities.

You can imagine my chagrin when, after a 90 minute wait in the small Board building, the bloke behind the counter said, “I need to see your originals mate”.

WHAT? My originals were in boxes stored in my parents’ garage back in Scotland. Not only that but they were on holiday in Spain and wouldn’t be back until 3 days before I was due to start working!

I explained this to the chap and he fetched my file which had copies of everything from the verification company saying that they had seen the originals and they were legitimate. I couldn’t understand why he needed to see everything again. I realise that I should have had the good foresight to have brought everything with me just in case but when I asked why he said, “Cause I need some proof that you are who you say you are.” This was fair enough but I thought my passport and visa would have sufficed. Apparently not. Then, as an afterthought then he came out with a corker along the lines of, “Oh and I need to see your original school certificates to prove you can speak English”.

Have you ever heard anything so bizarre? I’ve filled out everything in English including an application form that he gave me, I had my UK passport AND he had a copy of my high school exam certificates in front of him showing I sat English exams at school. But not only that but as far as I recall our entire conversation was in English as that’s the only language I speak! So I said the only thing I could think of which was, “What bloody language do you think I’m speaking at the moment?”

Well, he followed that up with, “Next,” which put an end to the discussion. What else could I do? Not very much it would seem, so all I could do was leave and phone my folks in Spain and beg them to dig through all my stuff when they got back from their holiday and send everything to me. It was such a hassle for them as they got back on a Tuesday and I was starting the following Monday. Due to the time difference they really only had 3 days to get things to me. But luckily (and with the help of DHL) a large envelope arrived for me on the Friday morning with only a few hours of registration time left. Phew!

So almost 2 weeks after I set out to register with the NSW Medical Board, I got back on the bus back out to Gladesville and handed everything to the girl behind the desk and was probably only there for about 10 minutes. She was very pleasant and said, “It’s a good job you came early. We’re expecting a big rush today since everyone starts on Monday!” She had no idea how well I knew that. I then thanked her for her speedy work and told her to apologise the chap that had been on the desk the last time I was in as he was only doing his job regardless of how frustrated it made me!

I left Gladesville with a bit of a spring in my step and headed back into the city centre as I had some emailing to do and we still didn’t have internet in the flat. Also I needed a Tax File Number before starting work and that was something else that needed done online.

My elevated mood was soon shot down though as every internet cafe I went into seemed to have problems getting onto the Australian Taxation Office website. I soon gave into the fact that I was never going to get a TFN and I would be taxed at a ridiculously high rate for the first few months like “emergency tax” in the UK.

Exasperated, I went up to Chatswood Mall to buy a printer that I’d seen on a previous visit and like a glowing orange beacon of salvation I spotted an “Everywhere Internet” station which I think is owned by Stavros of Easyjet fame. I couldn’t resist one more shot at getting the TFN much as I disliked lining the pockets of the Greek entrepreneur. However it was worth every penny and I’d definitely shake the man’s hand as his computers managed the task in 4 minutes! Awesome.

So with registration complete and my TFN number winging its way to me in the post I felt a bit of a celebration was in order. I stopped into the nearest wine shop and bought a bottle of Palandri Margaret River 2004 Cabernet Sauvignon. Another great big red from Western Australia. After only 2 glasses I was feeling a bit more positive about the day but that might have had something to do with the writing on the side of the bottle that said 14%.