What's In A Name? Part IV

Guess what arrived in the mail the other day? A shiny new name change certificate! (Or, Certificate of Change of Name, because of course we can't do it the easy way, can we?)

This happened both faster and slightly cheaper than I expected. Remember that $200+ fee I was quoted at the beginning? It was more like $175.00(plus the $25.00 fingerprint processing fee, but we'd already figured that one in.) I was also told, I believe, 4-6 weeks before I could expect it to arrive. Less than two weeks later, there it is!

The registry agent told me it would be all pink and purple, and "pretty enough to frame." And you know what? It really is. It's not something that most people have hanging on their walls, at least. So now I have a certificate, with just slightly less security features than your typical $5 bill, proclaiming me to be me, rather than that other person who was running around with my life.

Of course,(and isn't that always the way?) this was actually the easy part. I still need to go through all the steps to get my name changed on my photo ID, with my phone, with my bank, on my passport... What fun, yes? Oh, and with Alberta Heathcare, at my doctor's, on my prescriptions...

What's In A Name? Part III

or Our Hero's Epic Quest to Win His Name

The only thing that can explain my day today is the fact that not only am I a masochist, but I'm a stubborn one at that. And before you accuse me of hyperbole or of misrepresenting masochism, let me assure you that I do know what it is to be a masochist. Intimately.

It started with my deciding to take transit to the notary's office, even though they offered mobile service. I could have chosen to have them come to me. Instead, I thought it would be a good idea to take the bus into the suburbs. This also could have been avoided if I'd gone to a notary downtown. The reason I didn't actually has more to do with my particular brand of anxiety than anything else. It's easier for me to make an appointment by actually talking to someone rather than leaving a message or e-mail, and the one in the boonies had a 'talk to an actual person' option. So.

Between Google Maps telling me this place was impossible to get to and me only really knowing one bus route in the area, this meant a bloody lot of walking, and just to be clear, there is definitely not a Chinook going on right now. Once I actually got there, things went pretty smoothly. It was warm, the notary was nice and helpful, and the idea was brought up of getting to a registry right away. And guess what! There's one close-ish that's open late! Sounds like a good idea, right?

…

Right.

So maybe if I hadn't stopped at that Starbucks to warm up with a hot drink I'd have made it on time, but I'm a masochist not an idiot. When I say I was freezing I mean it literally, and quite frankly frostbite is not something I'm eager to experience. But I left there in plenty of time, right? Well, plenty of time if I hadn't ignored the route Google Maps suggested and gotten myself just a little bit lost along the way. After wandering around the wrong side of the shopping complex for a while, I finally get there twenty minutes to closing only to have the guy tell me they can't do it tonight because it will take half an hour to process.

Brick wall, head smash, gnashing of teeth.

I'd like to tell you there was some epic, climactic scene here, that I told him I didn't care how long it would take, he was going to do this for me now. I'd like to tell you that I didn't just gather up my things and walk quietly back out the door, but the truth is that I'm no good at conflict. Oh, I can write it well enough. Everything I wish I'd said or thought about doing goes into my characters, but in real life I try to avoid it at all costs. I'll battle my way through ice and snow, navigate inadequate transit coverage and keep at it when most sane people would say “You know what? I'm just gonna go home now,” but bending a registry agent to my will is just not one of my skill sets. I can wait for my name just a little while longer.  Tomorrow will be soon enough.

What's In A Name? Part II

This part, for some reason, seemed to me like it was going to be something strange and frightening: getting fingerprinted.  I'm not sure why I thought this, but I kept picturing Big Intimidating Cops that would glare suspiciously at me, trying to determine what heinous crime I must have committed.  What can I say?  I'm a writer.  I have an over-active imagination.

The reality was actually very different.  It was in a small office in a public building downtown with two bored looking officials, a woman and an older man.  The man was processing someone else, so it was the woman who helped me.  It was pretty much the basic show ID, give address, (current) legal name, yadda yadda, then have picture taken.  When she was entering it all into the computer, she actually debated whether she could mark me as M under gender rather than F, but was afraid that would screw up the paper work and cause the whole thing to be rejected.  As much as I would have liked it if she could, I had to agree.  Just the fact that she considered it meant a fair bit to me.  Then I made sure it was all today's version of correct, and signed.  At some point in here I did pay my $30.00 fee, confusing her with the relative orientation of my debit card (I love my bank, vertical card design and all.)  

Next came the part that I was actually pretty excited about: the fingerprinting itself.  By this time the other guy who was there for fingerprinting had left.  The man who had been helping him had already set up the ink pad and such the way he liked it, so he did the actual printing.  It went pretty quickly and easily.  Ink and roll each finger, all fingers together, thumbs, done.  I'm honestly not sure whether I'm relived or disappointed that the ink came off my fingers so easily, but it did and there it is.  He folded up the sheet and handed it to me in an envelope.  And that was it, I was done.

So now I have a very official sheet with my fingerprints on it, waiting to be brought back to the registration agency with the rest of my paperwork.  It's actually pretty neat to look at - comparing the swirls on the fingers of my left hand with those on my right - I'm actually thinking of scanning a copy just for myself.  The artist in me can't resist, really.

What's In A Name? Part I

So I am finally going through the process of legally changing my name and I thought, what the hell.  Let's blog about it.  Because even with all of its bureaucracy, or perhaps because of it, it can be a pretty interesting process.  This is of course how it happens in Alberta.  I don't know how much is different elsewhere.

It all starts with the Application for Name Change forms that I picked up at a local Registration agency.  They come bound in this book which is pretty neat, but also a little weird.  Not only do I now have the forms to change my own name, but also the forms to change my children's or my spouse's names, if I had any and thought this was something I wanted to do.  Now, I understand situations where one would want to change a child's name, adoption and what-not, but a spouse?  I don't know about you, but even if my hypothetical spouse and I decided together that we would change eir name, I'd be a hell of a lot more comfortable if e did it emself.  But I digress.

In case I didn't already know this, the front of the application tells me this isn't going to be free.  It's not even going to be cheap, really, which is part of why I've had to wait so long.

Fees for Name Changes:

Registry Agents will collect:

• a government fee of $120.00.
• a service fee, which may vary (I was quoted anywhere from $190.00 to something upwards of $200.)
• a fingerprint processing fee of $25.00, on behalf of the RCMP in Ottawa as payment for the criminal record check.

Local Law Enforcement Agencies:

• may charge a fee for fingerprinting ($30.00 in this case.)  Payment is made directly to the local law enforcement agency.

So that's... $375.00, or thereabouts.  And that's not including whatever the Notary Public may charge for affirming the affidavit at the end.  Way to make it easy on us, yeah?  Still.  Hoops.  Sometimes you have to jump through them, and sometimes they'll make you pay out the nose for the privilege.

And that's step one: getting the application.  Tomorrow I'll tell you all about the fingerprinting.

Also, just a quick FYI.  No, I will not tell you my original/old/"real" name.  I'm pretty open about the process of transitioning, more so than most people in my situation, but this is one of the few questions I won't answer.  The last thing I want to do is give more people the opportunity to call me by the wrong name.  Thank you.