Marianne Talbot What a week. Well, fortnight really. I have mentioned the direct payments I am now getting and about the huge administrative burden that comes with them. It turns out that the burden of time wasting is even worse.
The Council has taken on an organisation whose task it is to explain direct payments, and to administer them if that is what the carer wants. It seemed to be worth at least a meeting. So I set up an appointment.
The young woman who came seemed a nice person. But it quickly became clear she knew virtually nothing about direct payments. The hour I spent with her was an exercise in trying to keep my temper while she told me loads of things I already knew.
Every time I asked her a question she merely repeated what she had already told me. Incredibly I started to feel sorry for her. Hardly her fault if she hadn’t been properly trained.
The upshot of the meeting was that I must insure myself in case a carer breaks her leg and sues me, and I must register as a small employer with the Inland Revenue. She gave me a lot of telephone numbers and off she went.
I spoke to a nice man at the insurance company and we started to complete the form so I’d get immediately cover.
Things went pear-shaped almost immediately. The young woman had impressed on me that the insurance should be in mum’s name as she was the one getting the direct payments. The man I was speaking to insisted the policy had to be in my name because I was the one employing the carers.
Aaargh! There followed a merry-go-round of calls in which I was batted from one organisation to the other, ending up near tears with frustration.
Trying to get registered as an employer was equally frustrating. I rang one of the numbers the young woman had given me. The person on the other end knew nothing of direct payments and was extremely unhelpful.
Another number yielded a lovely woman who also knew nothing about direct payments, but who offered to ring the young woman and clarify things. She came back with another number which led to a promise to send me a CD Rom. This has yet to arrive.
So have I succeeded in registering myself as a small employer? I have no idea.
In the meantime, though, one of my new carers is turning out to be just incredible. She is with mum in the kitchen now. They are making a chocolate cake (gluten free of course) and chatting away as if they have known each other for years.
At least I know it’ll all be worth it.