Dear Mr CEO of Auckland City Toyota,

Dear Mr CEO of Auckland City Toyota,

Small people matter too

I know cars, particularly second hand cars, more particularly Japanese imported second hand cars will always have the possibility of problems.  But having previously owned five Japanese imported second hand vehicles before I considered my purchasing one more would be as safe a purchase as any motor vehicle purchase can be.

So earlier this year I purchased a 2007 Japanese imported second-hand Toyota motor vehicle, not from an Auckland City Toyota yard but from a general, well known Auckland City car dealership.  A 2007 Toyota Mark 4 Zio.  A fairly standard 5 door sedan.

I chose to purchase a Toyota import as not only is the brand Toyota is seen as reliable and trustworthy but because I had owned 5 other Toyota vehicles over the past 20 years and never had a problem with them.  Choosing a reliable vehicle was critical as I am widowed, a pensioner and had recently moved from Auckland to Taupo and needed the mental reassurance that owning a good, standard and reliable car was imperative.

For a number of years I had utilised the Grey Lynn branch (Giltraps then) as my regular service provider for my Toyota vehicles and had was always totally happy and satisfied with all the workshop servicing over the years.

Was in Auckland on Saturday 5 August when dashboard warning lights in my Toyota flashed on, along with an audible warning beep. First thought was brake fluid as light looked similar to break warning lights I had seen on other vehicles. Checked brake fluid, it was fine. This concerned me greatly as not only was it one light, but 3 different light messages, some in Japanese script - and seemed to only occur when the vehicle was turn to the left or right.

I was due to return to Taupo the following day but did not wish to do so with these warning lights, so I did what I thought was a most sensible thing - immediately drove to your Grey Lynn branch.  The 'experts' in Toyota.

The service person, Janette, was friendly and professional and asked the Saturday mechanics to look at the vehicle.  The first thought the mechanic had was to check the brake fluid - told him I had but he rechecked to make sure it was fine.  It was. So he took it into the workshop to investigate further.

It took them some time to come to a conclusion as to what the problem was and had Janette inform me the warning lights and sound was the Vehicle Stability Control warning, which made sense as one of the lights was showing VSC; they did not have the manpower or resources to remedy the problem at the time and suggested I booked it in for an official repair during the week, and suggested it was not taken on any long drives until it was remedied. 

I was due to return to Taupo the next day but was certainly going to take the advice of the professionals so with much juggling among family members managed to organise another vehicle to use to return to my home in Taupo and booked my vehicle in for 9 a.m. the following Thursday.

At 5 a.m. that Thursday I left Taupo, drove to where I had left the Toyota then battled the Auckland peak hour traffic to have it at the mechanical shop at 9 a.m.

Janette informed me she would telephone me as soon as the job was completed.  I was on foot, had no alternative transport so relied on my feet to fill in the day until I was able to pick the vehicle up and return to Taupo that evening.

An hour later received a phone call from Janette - the mechanics would need it for 2 days to repair the problem.

I enquired, why for 2 days?  Was told the mechanics had not worked on this particular model before and need to source a manual to read up what was wrong.  I asked if they were waiting to download a manual from Toyota why would that take 2 days and, if it was going to take overnight to download this information why could I not use the car overnight while they did that.  I confess to being somewhat intrigued they would have to do this.  After all, whilst there are not many Toyota Mark 4 Zio around, it still seemed like a fairly standard Toyota.

Then I couldn't help but think, hang on, this is Toyota, dealers who sell new and second hand imported Japanese vehicles and have done for decades, yet it would take them overnight to source a manual, via a website?  For they brand of vehicle they specialise in? 

Another problem for me was that the vehicle is in Grey Lynn, my only Auckland accommodation was in Conifer Grove in Takanini, in South Auckland - mega miles away and I was on foot literally wandering the streets of Auckland to fill in time while the vehicle was repaired.  Walking to Conifer Grove was going to be one long walk. 

Janette's response was to go talk to the mechanics.  I kept walking around the city, for a few more hours, waiting, merely filling in the time.  Mid afternoon, I receive a call that the car was fixed and ready to collect, that the Vehicle Stability Control problem was all fixed.  Hurrah!

I walked the many kilometres back to the garage, paid the account, thanked Janette, got in car all reassured and headed onto the Southern Motorway in the peak hour traffic. 

Within minutes the warning light comes up.  Same light.  As does the same Japanese script.  Same audible beeps.  Get to my Takanini destination safely, but worried and had to wait until the next day to ring service office, again, to tell Janette the vehicle stability control light, the Japanese script and the audible beep still coming on.

I could not return the vehicle that day as had to return to Taupo.  As there now seemed no urgency regarding what was inferred to as a computer glitch, I booked the vehicle in for 2 weeks ahead, Thursday 31 August.  And the next day returned to my Taupo home, with the light still going, but the audible beep had stopped.

I returned to Auckland early on the 31st and took the vehicle back into the shop.  Then yet again walked the city all day whilst awaiting word for when I could return to pick it up. 

At 3 p.m. received a phone call - they have yet to fix the car as were waiting for a Japanese interpreter to come and decipher what the warning message is.

My first thought, again, was - you've had 2 weeks' notice this vehicle was coming back for the same problem, why could you have not done the research or 'Japanese interpreter' organising before today?

Then, you're a Japanese motor vehicle importing company.  Yet have no one in your company who can read Japanese?  Really?  

And it's now 3 p.m. and you are only ringing me now to let me know that you've just got onto it?

Next thought was - why do you need a Japanese interpreter to 'go in'?  Why could you not take a photo of the message and send to someone who reads Japanese?  Again, you are an importer of Japanese vehicles after all.  I bite the tongue.  I am hamstrung and vulnerable being in Auckland and on foot. I tell Janette I am on foot, filling in time waiting for the vehicle to be fixed. 

She says she will keep me updated. 15 minutes later get another phone call from Janette - the mechanics have fixed warning light problem but inform me that after all this time they learnt that the Japanese message says it needs oil. Really?  In all the many vehicles I have owned, mostly Japanese models, whenever there is a problem with oil the warning light shows up with a picture of an oil can.  This light had no oil can.  Was this particular model the only model Toyota make that does not have the basic oil can picture for the oil warning system?

And, you mean for the three times the vehicle had now been in the shop no one had checked something so basic as the oil? I hadn't checked it myself as it was newly serviced when purchased in January so never considered that oil would be the issue. Plus, there was no picture warning showing an oil can.

Janette's question, 'would I like them to oil service it .... ? .... for $260?

Did I have a choice? No I didn't.  I had driven up from Taupo twice to have this 'Vehicle Stability Control' problem fixed, now I am being told that it wasn't Vehicle Stability Control at all that I had paid to have fixed on the previous occasion;  that the warning was for low, or no oil.  I feel annoyed that I had driven it to Taupo and back when an oil warning was up. Yet no one had checked the oil.

Am now concerned, very concerned, re any possible long term damage of driving with little, or maybe no oil?

And, am being told to do an oil service it will cost $260 - but what about the Vehicle Stability problem?  Is that still a problem?  Was that merely a computer glitch, despite the light showing VSC?   Am I now expected to be charged to fix the vehicle stability light which they said they'd fixed before. Yet wasn't?  But was it? 

I'm stranded in Auckland, for the second time.  I have no one to seek further advice from.  I am hamstrung.  Of course I need oil.  Of course I realise I have to pay for the oil change?  But what happens now to the car if it has been driving oil-less due to no one knowing or understanding what the warning lights were, even though they were the 'experts' on Toyotas?  And as a motorist I had done the right thing as soon as the warning lights came on - took it to the experts.

There was some subdued, and natural frustration vented on my part.  Yes, please do the oil and let me know when I can walk the kilometres back to the dealership to pick up the vehicle. 

5 minutes later a mechanic calls me, and repeats the same story about the vehicle having no oil.  I inform him I have already been told this.  He apologises and gets off phone fairly quickly.

I walk back to the service centre at 5.30 p.m.  Your service manager then begins to educate me on the possible long term damage that running a car on no oil can cause.  I let him show me all the pictures and he explains it very well.  I did not need the explanation, I have owned and driven many cars in my 65 years - I used to own my own vehicle fleet for my own business of tour guiding business.  My deceased father was a mechanic.  I know what driving a car with no oil does. 

But he thought he was being helpful, I appreciated that.  When he had finished I asked the obvious questions.  "This is the third time this vehicle has been in the workshop for this warning light problem - I was told it was Vehicle Stability Control - I paid to have that fixed - and it apparently wasn't because the same warning lights came up - and now told it wasn't that after all but low or no oil; therefore during these visits why is it that no mechanic did the most basic thing and check the oil?"  Surely that would be one of the first things to check?  The mechanic originally checked for brake fluid but not for oil.

There was no answer to that.  He did offer for me to return the vehicle after a thousand kilometers and they would check it for me to see if there was any obvious damage.  I did ask him to explain how they would do that and what signs would they be looking for.  I needed to know myself.  It would mean having to call into the workshop on another visit to Auckland, which would be well over 1,000 kilometres.

I paid the account, got into my car somewhat flummoxed, irritated, annoyed and sadly disappointed.  Yes, every business has one customer a week whose job they've maybe not handled too well.  When one is a female, 65 years old one feels somewhat vulnerable and possibly 'taken for a ride'. 

I drive back to Taupo the next day.  Still somewhat disappointed and disgruntled after sharing the story with a number of friends who, as friends do, come up with wise words of post-event wisdom that really are of no help whatsoever.

All was fine with the vehicle on the drive back, no warning lights, no beeps, not engine seizure from running it on lack of oil.  Heart in mouth I arrived back without incident.  Once in Taupo I use the vehicle very little, but keep checking the oil level to make sure it is OK.  I had to return to Auckland three days ago.  All was fine until my return journey on Sunday when I was half way home - guess what? - the warning lights and audible beep comes on again.

Same lights.  With less beeps.  How come?  I was told by the experts those lights were for oil, yet I'd just spent $260 to have new oil put in - so was my engine finally seizing?  I stopped the vehicle at my earliest and safest pull off area and checked the oil again.  It was fine.  I had no option but to keep driving, and hoping, and praying that this really was just a computer glitch and there was nothing major going to happen to me.  I drove very modestly.  I arrive home safely.  Next morning start the car, no warning lights.  At all. 

So - what do I do now?  I like the car.  I cannot see I should get rid of it if the problem with the lights in merely a glitch.  But I need to know whether it is just a glitch or not.  For the 3 trips to the workshop I paid for what? 

If I had been told at the outset that no one can fathom what the problem was, I would have happily been patient and waited until someone actually did analyse correctly exactly what these warning signs were - rather than have the 'professionals' guess that it must be Vehicle Stability Control, then, when that didn't work, guess it must be no oil. 

What do I now do?

I write to the CEO - so that I have this lodged now - not as a complaint, but as a form of enlightenment of a problem so that if something major, or dangerous does occur, I know I have done the right thing and written a full report on what has happened;  thereby the onus is back on the workshop.

I'm here Taupo!

I have had seven days of living solo in my most recent new place of residence, in my new town of Taupo. 

         

I took ownership of the property in October last year but moved to a property in Conifer Grove in South Auckland thus allowing the sellers of the Taupo property to remain here as it suited their needs.  But they decided to move on so Taupo became free and mine to move into.

So come first day of February my possessions were moved from storage into this little, white, weatherboard home.

In this past week of living here alone many neighbours and locals are asking how I am liking living in Taupo. 

It has not been an easy question to give a meaningful reply to. 

Whilst I took ownership last year it was not until that first day of February that realisation of ownership felt truly real.  And even then it seemed rather weird as I drove to Taupo the night before February 1, stayed at friends for the evening and then drove to the property to await the furniture movers who were bringing my worldly goods and furniture from storage into the home.  Big Son flew down that morning to help, Younger Son drove across from his home in Rotorua and it was all hands on deck to get as much of the furniture into the house and as arranged as possible, then later in the evening relocking the house up and driving back to Auckland as there were important appointments in the city I had to attend over the next three day period. 

I wasn't until the following Sunday that the cat and I squeezed ourselves into my overloaded motor vehicle at Conifer Grove and headed along the now very familiar roads from the Bombays to the tourist town of Taupo.

Both travelled well.  Within two hours the cat had explored her new surroundings, inside and out, and seemed to fare the new change of address without any problematic feline frenzy.  That was quite a relief, and a surprise.  Seems she is fine anywhere, so long as I am close by.

That night the two of us slept together, restlessly, in the relatively disorganised house and woke to the new surroundings with an expectancy of over-awedness as the final acknowledgement of doing something so completely life changing had just happened.  Well, that is how I felt when dawn broke; I think the cat woke to her only thoughts being when was she going to get her next meal.

Later that day the arrival of two dear friends from Auckland-Hawaii-San Fran-New Jersey-Vermont (whichever, they seem to still live in all those places) in my reliable Toyota Granvia brought the reality check to life as they announced they were here for a month and were "giving me a month"  of their life to help me in any way I wanted or needed.  Not being used to such generosity was a little gob-smacked but recalled the words of some mutual friends who advised me sometime earlier that if they offer help, they genuinely want to help, so graciously accept it. 

They work on paying it forward.

From that day until early last week life was a whirlwind of sorting, shifting, building, painting, spending, more houseguests, more building, more spending, dinners, wine, more spending, more painting, more building (should say the building bit had nothing to do with my efforts - I would scarper indoors each day whilst I heard my genial houseguest blaspheme the next nail or screw into the newly created bathroom wall he was building for me - well, for my future houseguests that is); more houseguests, more meals, more fun, more wine, more building, more spending (all this spending being on the building project), more wine, more houseguests, events, more events, more houseguests, more meals, more wine and yet more progress on the newly renovated garage-come-out-house.

In amongst all that was Ironman week and weekend.  And what a lousy weather weekend that turned into for the hapless athletes.

So last week's Monday evening had me pull up into the driveway and have the whole place with just me and the cat again, five weeks after taking possession. 

By good luck, or maybe good judgement on my house guests part, everyone had cleared out at a particularly pertinent time as the days that followed were days that I spend six months being pleased they have passed and the next six months wishing they would not come.

One of those days was Tony's and my wedding anniversary.  Two days later was the anniversary of Tony passing away four years ago. 

My real friends realise I like and need to be alone during this period.  I want to enjoy being morose, glum and grievous in a fog of self-indulgent pity; I could not bear having chattering, frivolous conversations around me to pretend one day is just like any other day.  Those particular days are not like any other. Never will be. 

I guess there is some consolation that they are only two days apart so all the narcissistic self-pity comes but once a year, instead of months apart.

So when I am asked, as I was twice today, how was I liking living in my new home in my new town, I really feel a little flummoxed at not being able to give a genuine or meaningful answer.  Because I have not had time to experience it, life has been far to busy.

I do confess to moments of panic some weeks ago when I walked into the house and realised how tired it really was.  I had spent the previous many months going through heart breaking and almost financial ruination with renovations of a small home unit in Conifer Grove and here I come into another tired and weary residence.  Glory be, had I made the right decision?  Was all this change the past twelve months the completely wrong thing to do?  The interim period at the small home unit in Conifer Grove had caused me extreme grief and gave me moments of real despair, was this place going to only make it worse?  Had all my decisions been wrong?  Was I going to wake and realise I had got myself into a continual nightmare?

      

There were physical signs of my panicking. 

It was to be short lived, the panic that is, no doubt due to the arrival of my friends Jerry and Lis from Hawaii, who immediately hit Taupo like a 'white tornado' and motored through sorting out my life, possessions and associated 'crap' without any hesitation.  Boxes were unpacked, stacks of 'junk' sorted, resorted then resorted again.  Cupboards filled, drawers organised, pictures hung and pleasant meals and company with the roundabout of friendships visiting and staying, making it all the more reassuring that this was one good decision.  And it was.

I note that once people ask me how I am enjoying living in Taupo, the next question often is, "Why did you choose to move to Taupo rather than anywhere else in New Zealand?"

When this is asked I have tended to think carefully how I respond when answering to a fellow Tauparian because Taupo was never on my original list of places I wanted to live when I first decided I would uplift my life and make major changes.  Indeed, it wasn't even in contention and never would have considered it so.

There were a number of other options I had easily contemplated in those initial stages and after some months of travelling around I had determined three towns that truly appealed to my inner sense of residential possibilities for me.

Top of the list was Blenheim.  Second on the list was Hawkes Bay.  Third on the list was Whakatane/Ohope area.

I had briefly looked at some other fine options which appealed;  Christchurch, for it will be a magnificent city in the future and the surrounding areas are beautiful.  I could see myself cycling over those Port Hills, indulging in cafes in Lyttleton and running along the Avon River.  Whanganui had once been a thought both Tony and I contemplated some years ago so it came to the fore once again, due to it being by the sea, close to the Naki, not too far from Wellington, wonderful countryside all around, and had residential properties selling at amazingly economic prices.

Even Russell in the Bay of Islands was a serious contender.  The sea and warmth were of great importance to me and the family history, the turangawaewae I feel whenever in the Bay of Island always gives an added pull to keep returning to the place. 

As Taupo had neither warmth or seaside, nor family history, it never featured on my list of 'desired towns' to live in.

Prior to making the decision to finally sell the Auckland family home I did spend a period of over two years going to the various places and seriously looking at what the lifestyle would give, and what the real estate prices were.

With all my months of travelling and looking I did factor in, and mistakenly so, the matter than my elder son works for Air New Zealand and would be for a number of years in the future, and as he is single without any dependants I had become fortunate in this period to become his one specified family member, or friend, who benefited from his staff subsidy of being able to fly on incredibly inexpensive air fares both domestically and internationally on any Air NZ or affiliated airline throughout the world.

When looking at where to live factoring this in had a major bearing how I was looking at the future.  I felt reassurance in the knowledge that wherever I lived if I lived near an airport with Air NZ access I would have the ability to fly anywhere in the country at the drop of a hat, for very little expense.  Should something or someone need urgent attention I could be there very quickly with little inconvenience to anyone, or my bank account.  Or even if I had an opportunity to attend a social function, particularly in Auckland, without hesitation I would be able to accept and be there without any major disruption or difficulty to anyone, most particularly my own personal bank account.

Hence the historic town of Russell was soon put toward the bottom of the list as it was too far away away from the nearest airport.

Whakatane and Whanganui were soon being dismissed once Air NZ announced it would be stopping flights to these airport.  But Whakatane was a favourite of mine and as it is not a long drive to Rotorua Airport I kept that place factored in.  Whanganui, not so.

Hawkes Bay had the sun, the warmth, the lifestyle, the wonderful surrounding areas, the seaside and most of all, the Air NZ base at the airport. So it was up the top of the list too.

Blenheim had everything.  The warmth, the countryside, the wine, the sunshine, the sea, the quick access to Picton and the Wellington ferry.  Not too far to drive to Nelson.  And of course, the airport, with direct flights to Auckland and Wellington.  There was the added bonus of family living there also, but I have always said that relying on family staying in one place is not a good option, this proved so and once I made my mind up Blenheim was a strong contended, the family moved to Wellington.  Clearly they had heard the whisper that I was soon to head down!

Thus, over two years the list, in order of priority, became Blenheim, Hawkes Bay, Whakatane, then maybe somewhere else that I had not previously contemplated.  Somewhere during this period there was a slight thought of maybe Taupo, but certainly well down my list of preferences.  Taupo only due to its centrality.  It may have had an airport but it certainly didn't have the year round warmth and sandy, salty beaches. 

Once I finally decided to put Jesmond Terrace on the market and settled on the probability of Blenheim,  it was a case of announcing the decision to friends and family.  But just prior to that a minor hand grenade was thrown into the decision making.  Air New Zealand son announced that he'd made the decision to withdraw my name from his staff subsidy list and would be giving it to a friend of his.  Now, he has every right to give his staff benefit to whoever he liked, indeed, it took him three or four years of working at Air New Zealand before he did actually offer the benefit to me.  And as he announced with candour, I had been "lucky enough" to have had the 'perk' for two years.  I bit my tongue as there really was no option and accepted his view was that the benefit was his to share.  Can't knock that.  I had had one very economic flight to the UK on this benefit, at a time when finances were critically ailing giving me some worrying financial relief at that time.

But once the realisation that I should never had factored a feasibility of the benefit being an ongoing 'perk'  to his mother  I suddenly had to reassess my thinking of my future and accept the realisation I was really on my own in whatever decision I made. 

How would the situation be if I were stuck in Blenheim (or Whakatane, or Hawkes Bay) should a major dilemma with family in Auckland, or Wellington, or where ever occur.  Whilst I could still fly at full airfare rates, the costs would be horrendous at short notice and the guarantee of getting a flight not always possible.  It would mean urgent driving to where ever.  Driving from Blenheim to Auckland would be a nightmare under urgency.  Driving from Whakatane or Hawkes Bay under urgency would prove unhealthy as well as very long and arduous.

I reprimanded myself for making incorrect assumptions of family loyalty and had to begin to totally rethink my thinking and life strategy; to reassess the reality of never relying on others as I had done most of my life, to reassess the practicalities of living totally independently with only myself as my own resource.   Something all of my unattached friends have always had to do.

The brain began to rethink future life in places still relatively close to the city I have lived most of my life, and where the majority of the important people in my life live.  An investigative  visit to the little town Cambridge was made, with a good look at real estate values.  A visit to Waihi.  Tauranga was never a consideration.  It's a mini-Auckland and growing each year. 

Even Te Aroha had a look in.

    

     

But, knowledge of myself had me realise that small towns and Verna would just not work.  Cambridge, Waihi, Te Aroha = just a little too small.  Blenheim was at least a larger and more spread out town.

The more I thought, the more I travelled the more the realisation that locality and accessibility was going to have to be the major consideration.  Not the wants.

Taupo happens to be in the geographic middle.  Yes, it's damned cold down there.  No, there are no seaside beaches.  Nor loads of local vineyards to picture oneself visiting during the beautiful summer weekends.  But, it is only three plus hours to Auckland by motorcar.  Not too onerous.  Only fifty minutes to Rotorua where my grandson and his parents live.  Sure, it is still nearly five hours driving to Wellington, but chances are reasonably remote that I would need to get there with urgency any time.  The idea of taking a leisurely five hours to drive there to pay a family or friendly visit to others doesn't seem too excessive.

As weeks passed I visited Taupo to view various residential homes that were for sale.  Real estate prices were a little more economic than Blenheim and there were certainly more properties available.  And each drive to and from the town of 30,000 seemed less and less monotonous.  Almost enjoyable.

I visited last winter.  I saw the town at its worse.   It snowed.  While I was out running.  Over the years  I have seen it at its best.  I asked many Taupo people why they moved to the town.  I asked many people if they had regretted their move.  No one answered to the negative.  All had only positive comments to make about their decision to make Taupo home.  Many did mention the weather, but all mentioned it as if it were a mere inconvenience rather than an injurious pain in their life style.  Most merely said, "You just dress for it."  Didn't seem too problematic, particularly once they listed all the benefits of why living there was so appealing.  Proximity to so many other places was always a major feature in their ravings of how great it was to live so central in our island.

The more people I asked, the more my decision turned from the top of the South Island to the centre of the North Island.  Three hours to Auckland.  An hour forty to Hawkes Bay.  Fifty minutes to grandson.  Three hours to Whanganui, or New Plymouth.  Couple or plus hours to Whakatane, or Tauranga.  Centrality has its bonuses. 

The decision was made.  The fun began.  The rigours of house selling, and all it entailed was painful, exacting, distressing but eased by the friendships that stood up and were counted; those who helped, either physically or morale-wise. 

Therefore, I sit here in my quaintish, white, weatherboard home.  The cat blissfully curled up at my feet.  The two of us are in our new home.  We are encountering new experiences.   I am meeting new people.  Finding new adventures.  And don't feel too far away from anyone.

The past busy month has shown that this geographic centrality has become the biggest bonus.  Already  I have been able to share the house with many dear and wonderful 'old' friends.  Already there has been continual happiness and laughter within its walls.  Tomorrow Big Son and Young Son are driving here from Auckland and Rotorua.  Tomorrow night Big Son, Young Son, Grandson and two of the sons' friends will create more laughter, I hope.  All because I am so central.

I figure there was a great advantage to Big Son deciding that mother would not be his priority on his staff benefit.  He made me change my way of thinking about my future life, about redefining on a major decision, one that was so much the correct decision.  Had he not scratched me off his staff priority list, I may well be sitting in front of this PC in Blenheim as a very lonely widow.

I'll thank him, one day.  Once I get over the still strong miftness of his giving the benefit to someone else.

     

     

Reality Check

One never really knows how others perceive them.

Whilst working at my new, soon-to-be-lived-in place at Conifer Grove last week one of the resident neighbours living to one side of my property came a calling to introduce himself and his son.

My property is at the end of a short cul-de-sac which has the advantage of a good deal of circular sealed roadway in front of the property which even has a central parking area in the turn around point which creates a perfect play area in the street for young boys and footballs.

I had seen my neighbours son, who would be about eleven years old, playing with his football in the street during the school holiday days, with another young lad who appeared to also live in a property on the other side of the round about.

Seeing these lads play in the street, with balls big and small, using it as a running circuit and general play area was both entertaining and reassuring.  Entertaining as some of their conversation were loud and were bemusing in their content.  And reassuring because it showed that despite the general trend, there are still some streets in Auckland that have some children enjoying real play and outdoors.   And also reassuring that not all children find it necessary to be entertained at all times by indoor games of the electronic kind. 

It was nice to have the neighbour call and introduce himself and his son and we had a short conversation regarding who the other young boy was that was his son's friend.

Thus, each day I was working around my property I would pause and enjoy watching the boys play and whenever the ball came flying over the fence to my property the lads would run across, apologise for their directionally challenged kicks and they would retrieve said ball and continue with their game.

    

Late in the afternoon one day last week I was gardening in my front yard when the boys arrived home from school and within ten minutes were back out in the street kicking their football around.  On this afternoon they were joined by another young lad.  This third boy I had not seen before and within a few minutes he came up and introduced himself, told me his name, spelled it for me without my asking, and informed me he lived in the next street and often came to play with his mates.

Was somewhat charmed by this lad's open chattiness and his wanting to make a point of introducing himself - an unusual characteristic in city kids of this era who generally seem fully disinterested in anyone other than their peers.  What a delightful, smart kid, I thought to myself.

Their game of football and point scoring became very animated, loud and enjoyable, for them and for me as I continued with my weeding in the front garden and listening to their fun.

Inevitably the ball was kicked in my direction, landing close to, or almost on myself where I was on all fours pulling at weeds. They would apologise each time for the nuisance, I would pick the ball up and toss it back and we would all continue on with what we were doing.

After the third time of this happening the chatty, new lad heaved a loud and animated sigh of exasperation over their inability to keep the ball within their play area.

"Hey you guys,"  he said, "stop kicking the ball over there, that old lady's trying to get her gardening done."

In that one instance, I realised, I had been given a personalised reality check.

   

I need some Councilling

  

It's been a while since last visiting my blog.  Life has been busy.

But I wish I had begun a chronological diary a few months ago of my present journey I'm presently on of selling, purchasing and organising everything to do with buying and selling one property to the purchasing of another.

One could wonder what would be interesting in the standard sale and purchase of a home, or homes.  There isn't much really.  It's merely the fact that whenever I, me, do anything there always seems to be some added stories, sojourns or hallucinogenic -type incidences which become either classic humour or elongated dramas that later are latterly looked upon with good humour.

So I thought I'd return to logging some of the many and minor incidences of my personal home relocation journey, to remind me why I hope to never have to do it again.

I shall jump several stories - to go straight to one that has 'bothered' me due to the present Auckland Council by-elections that keep regurgitating my experiences in my short-term memory banks.  There is a prologue, but it is not in this scribe - it may come later.

This story begins only 3 weeks ago.  And it's all about our wonderful AUCKLAND CITY COUNCIL and is one of several illuminating experiences I have recently had with council dealings. 

Whilst I was still living here, at No 8, I had been fortunate to be able to purchase a small brick and tile two-bedroom unit in South Auckland.  Conifer Grove in Takanini.

I had signed a conditional Sale & Purchase Agreement on the conditions that I had a building inspection and obtain a LIM report from our Auckland City Council.  LIM report being a Land Information Memorandum - it is supposed to give one all the information necessary to view before purchasing a property - plans, concerns, features, characteristics, sewerage, drainage ....... you get the picture.

No problem with building inspection, no problem with LIM report, once I had paid the high valued dollars for it.  But is a must.  One wonders how many LIMs are ordered in one week, how many $'s revenue they must create.  But that's of little relevance here.

Building report and LIM OK, the sale went ahead.

The property is nearly forty years old and has had little done to it since the owners had moved in those forty years ago.  I had some weeks before I would be moving from No 8 to this property so it seemed an ideal time to organise a few trades people to tackle some 'minor'  changes and alterations to the property timely enough for me to move in. 

Seemed a reasonable thought. 

First job, move some plumbing.  Second job - prior to the plumber being able to come and assess the job I was informed by both advisors and plumber that I would require a drainage plan which, if not in the LIM report I already had purchased from Council, would be held in the Council.

No, there was no drainage report or plan on the LIM report, so I thought a quick telephone call to Council will, or could, have one obtained and emailed through to me.

Seems a reasonable thought.

Of course, one realises Council is a big place, a big office, with lots of big wigs, and little ones.  So it would be a small matter of one phone call with the anticipation of having a bucket load of patience whilst navigating the answering system that Council provides .....  "Press 1 if you are seeking to pay your rates.  Press 2 if you have a  .....  Press 3 if you require  ...."  

Then " Press 246 if you require an operator to speak to."

I pressed button number 246.

"Welcome to Auckland Council, you are speaking with Jean."

 

Hello Jean, says I, as I note down her name as experience has taught me, always note down the names of anyone you talk to about any matter relating to yourself - you may need that name reference in future, especially if they stuff things up, which would never happen here, but I noted her name anyway.  "I have recently purchased a new property in South Auckland and to enable a plumber to do any plumbing renovations am required to obtain a drainage plan for my property.  Can you assist me with this?"

"I am certain I can," says Jean.  "But sometimes they are on a LIM report, would you like to obtain a LIM report?"  

"No," says I, "I have already paid for and received a LIM report but there is nothing about drainage on it."

"Well you would need to come into a Council office to obtain a drainage plan."

"Can I not have the drainage plan emailed to me,"  I ask..

"No, you need to attend a Council office physically and they will do it for you there.  There will be a small charge for the copying of the report for you." 

"Why do I have to physically go in? OK, I understand the small charge, I just thought you or someone there would be able to access the file for the address and be able to email it through, I could easily pay by direct debit or credit card over the phone."

"No, it's Council policy, you actually have to physically go to Council to get such things done, we don't do this over email or the phone."

Oh, I thought.  I can get medical files over email or the phone, buy cars and houses over email or the phone, order passports and marriage certificates by email or on the phone, I can pay my Council fines and rates over email or the phone, I ordered my LIM report over the phone, wonder why Council doesn't have a system whereby one can obtain a mere drainage plan for a little house in South Auckland over email or the phone?

Bother.  That's a trip into the Council offices in town and I've been there, done that a few times before when endeavouring to obtain information relating to the sale of this property.  That was a time consuming, tear jerking (literally) experience when I last went in there so did not have any desire to relive those experiences again.

But, seems there was no option but to pull my britches up and drive that journey into their offices in the central city once more.  Besides, this was all about my new place of residence, be it temporary, so it was up and onward and this request for a mere drainage report was a far more simple and straight forward one that my earlier request had been - the one that had reduced me to tears.

Next morning, it was bright and sunny, fortunately, I drove myself in my Big Van into the Graham Street, central city offices.  After carefully parking in one of only six car park spaces they make available for general public; parking my Big Van in small spaces is not an easy task and for these Council ones the spaces are limited, narrow and at angle parking, making it rather difficult for those of us who drive anything bigger than an old lady's shopping cart.  But I've become very adept at it now and have learnt never to go early morning as that's when all the tradesmen and property developing project managers go, in their enormous Toyota Ranger wagons or flash 4-wheel drive vehicles which literally take up every millimetre of width of their car park and usually extend well beyond the marked length, making squeezing mine past and in any space as a mission on metal conjuring, if indeed there happens to be one available.

I parked Big Van and walked the 27 steps up and into the public reception.  I know the reception well by now and therefore am able to avoid the queue at the general public reception desk and go straight into the reception area where anything building, LIM, property or land reporting or information seeking is done.

There are usually only two reception people there, as there were this day, but not only were both clearly highly involved in deep research investigation with their 'clients'  but there were three other groups of people waiting in line to be assisted before I would be.  And they all were clasping rolls of plans, sketches and files that showed their requests would also be long, involved and time consuming. 

Over to the right of reception are desks with computers which I had previously analysed were used by the general public to be able to access information on property files that could then be researched and then downloaded for printing.

But to get to use one of these PCs one has to get a reception person to key in access for you, so I would have to resign myself to waiting an inordinate amount of time to be able to access, view and find my drainage plan.

Time passed, a good twenty minutes and the queue had not reduced as the two fortunate 'clients', or 'customers' as Council management have instructed anyone in these offices to call us, were clearly going to be a good, long period more - with those and the three other waiting 'clients' in front of me I would need some more patience.  That's the stuff I have so much of...

I had noticed a third Council staff member lurking around the edges and even helping two of those general public using the PCs.  This person looked knowledgeable and informative with those she was speaking to, so when she walked passed I hailed her and said, "I'm just needing to access a drainage plan for my property, am I able to do so on one of those spare PCs you have there?"

"Yes, certainly," she says.  My little computerised-heart jumps a silent "Hurrah". 

"I just need to know the address of your property."

"It's in South Auckland,"  says I.

"South Auckland," says she, "it's in Manukau then is it?."

 

Well, thinks I, Manukau is South Auckland.  "Yes," I respond.  "Does that matter?"

"Well yes," she says, "if it's in Manukau you will have to go to the Manukau offices to get this information, we don't have it in these offices."

"But, I rang your call centre this morning and Jean, the woman I spoke to, told me I had to come into here.  And Manukau is now Auckland City, don't you have all the information for all your city properties accessed here?"

For the unknown, Auckland used to have 4 cities in the Auckland area - in 2010 all cities were amalgamated and the four cities become one city, one council, one mayor, one local body jurisdiction and laws. Manukau once was one city, but it's now just another suburban area of Auckland City.

So therefore my rational that all the city files would be amalgamated and accessible by all Council offices did not seem to be an unreasonable assumption.

"Well, not really, not yet.  All Manukau property files are still out at the old Manukau City offices," the Council employee says.

"But everything is computerised, can you not access the files in the Manukau office from here?" says I.

"Well, I know it seems we should be able to, but no, you have to go to our Manukau office to do that," she responded.

"That's crazy," I said, to deaf ears.  "I find it hard to believe you guys don't have a centralised and linked in system for your properties.  Is it possible you can ring from here and access that file, or that mere drainage plan for me?"

She shrugged. "No, we wouldn't be able to do that I'm afraid."  And shrugged again.

Grrrummppp.

So I returned to my Big Van. And could not get into it due to some overlarge Range Rover having swung into the car park next to my driver's door, it was so wide and had parked so badly that I had to access my driver's seat by entering via the passenger door. Dick!

Then began the long and tedious 50 minute journey from the city offices onto the Southern Motorway and out to the Manukau offices of Auckland Council.  It was mid-day and the mid-day motorway traffic made the 30 minute journey into 50.  Ah well, I had purposely made no other commitments for the afternoon so time was one thing I had plenty of, I thought.  A deep breath, a shrug of the shoulders let me 'let it go' that the very Council who advocates so much for so many future voters, still has not been able to centralise mainstream office information sharing.

Anyone who knows the old Manukau City area well will know the entire area has been a hive of constant change over the past many years.  Roads appear and disappear almost overnight and new, gigantic buildings suddenly appear next to ones that didn't exist last week.

I spent 30 years of my life living in various areas of Manukau so probably know it reasonably well, therefore knew where the old Manukau office building was so was not concerned about my ability to locate it among the monolith-type buildings I knew had recently sprung up on all the new development arounds around it.

Thus I felt most pleased with self when exited the motorway and drove directly to the old Manukau City buildings that are now hugely sign posted as 'Auckland Council'.

Straight to the building, now a car park.  They must surely have similar parks to their city ones, short-term parking for people doing just as I am, seeking information that means they will not be in the offices long and therefore out and gone for their next 'client'  to utilise?

Seems a reasonable thought.  Silly me.

This was not a case of me not wanting to walk a distance to the office, it was a case of me presuming an obvious - that there would be Council car parks available to public.

Wrong.

Another ten minutes was spent, stupidly driving around in circles seeking such, with no successful outcome.  I gave up looking so I drove to the major Westfield shopping centre, parked, and walked the short distance to the main office.

Enter the office to main reception. 

"Hello, can you tell me where or who I see to help me get a drainage report for my property please?"

"Certainly," she says.  "But you are in the wrong building, you have to go to another building a block away.  Just exit this one, look right, cross the road and another block over is a pink building, it is in that."

So   .....  I breathe ... and I walks to the pink building.

There is a counter with a sign over it indicating that I am finally in the right place, with the right reception where they could get for me the right information.

Seems a reasonable thought.

Went to counter. Was a lovely young chap.  "Kia ora,"  says I, for he was Maori and I enjoy that greeting far more than the standard 'Hello'.

  

"Kia ora ma'am, how can I help you?" 

"I am wanting a drainage plan for a property I have just purchased, it is in Conifer Grove."

"I can help you with that," he says, "If you give me the address then take a seat over there I will find the file and you will be able to access all the information on the Property File on one of our computers over there.  So just take a seat and I'll be with you once I find your file."

I take a seat.  I wander my eyes over the office and its people.  Not unlike any other council office one sits in.  Same building decor, same council furniture, same people, same environs, same conversations overheard, let's hope not the same outcome.

Some ten minutes later I had viewed everything the office had to possibly hold my attention any longer when the lovely (he was particularly good looking) man comes over and says, "Sorry to take so long, but for some reason I could not find the files for your address so I had to go and speak to a colleague to ask for help.  And he tells me, we don't hold your files here, that you will have to go to the Papakura offices to access that information."

"What!" says I.  "You're kidding me, aren't you?"

"No," he says, "Conifer Grove is in Takanini and Takanini came under the umbrella of the old Papakura Council so all the property files for Takanini are held there."

"But I've just been to your city Council offices earlier this morning and the lady there told me I had to come here and now you are saying I have to drive to Papakura offices.  This is crazy, surely the council can integrate its system so information is accessible from whatever office you are at."

"Unfortunately not," says he. "I am very sorry and understand how you feel and why, this happens all the time, but I cannot do anything for you today."

As a ratepayer  I am beginning to understand why so many ratepayers get very angry when mayors and councillors have morning teas, lunches,  go on overseas trips, drive in chauffeured or late model council cars - when all this rate payer wanted was a piece of A4 paper with a copy of my drainage plan on it.

I walked the distance back to the shopping mall and my Big Van.  I exited the car park and eventually re-entered the Southern Motorway and headed south on State Highway 1.  

Naturally karma has it that I encountered a major traffic hold up due to extensive motorway 'realignment'; jammed in between giant trucks only inches away from my driver's and passenger door is never a situation enhancing calm and peace and allowing one's anxiety to lesson.  I was very relieved to finally exit the motorway sometime later, almost drove right past my well drained property at Conifer Grove, and endeavouring to practise the calming Yoga mantras I had learnt some years ago eventually had the Big Van pull up outside the AUCKLAND CITY Papakura office.  And bingo!  Available free car parking spaces.

Entered my third Auckland Council office for the day, by now almost mid-afternoon - having traversed some exceptional mileage from my home in Mt Albert earlier in the day, to the central city council buildings, to South Auckland council buildings, now to deeper South Auckland council buildings just to obtain a copy of my drainage plan.

Lovely lady behind counter, but only the one and already in deep conversation with another ratepayer. No problem I thought, I'll take a seat and wait until she has completed her task with my fellow ratepayer. Only there were no seats.  Well there were seats, six of them, but all of the seats were taken up by men who were clearly known to one another and all holding folders and in deep discussion over something to do with the apartment blocks they were working on.

Not one of them stood for this waiting 'client'.  They all saw me standing but continued with their most important conversation as though they were in the boardroom and we public around them should not be there.

I stood, and waited.  And waited.  I tuned out of the Boardroom Meeting beside me and tuned into the discussion with the receptionist and 'client', my fellow ratepayer.

It was someone discussing a drainage plan!

Seems reasonable.

Eventually they finished so I walked up to my third Council person for the day and asked, "I have been sent here by the Manukau office, after being sent there by the Auckland office to obtain a copy of the drainage plan for my property in Conifer Grove in Takanini.  Are you able to help be with this."

"Yes I certainly can," she kindly responded, "give me the address and I will go find the file for you." 

I did, "Take a seat," she said, "I won't be long."

She obviously was not aware of the board meeting going on, as it still was. I stood.

Some five to six minutes passed and by this point in time every minute seemed an hour to me.

She returns, I walk back to the counter.

"I hate to have to tell you this," she says, "but I can't get you that information because the file for your property has been transferred to the Auckland office."

What!!??!!

"Yes, I'm afraid they were transferred to the Auckland office last week and I now don't have access to them."

"I cannot believe what I am hearing!  I went to the Auckland Council office this morning, they sent me to the Manukau office, I went there and they sent me to this office, and now you are telling me to go back to the Auckland office?"

"Yes, I'm so sorry, but there is nothing I can do.  They should have known those files were there and should never have sent you to Manukau in the first place anyway." 

I couldn't give a stuff.

It seems unreasonable to me.

And with that shall end my diatribe....  because the next chapter is just as long ... and that was two weeks ago but I do not wish this to be an encyclopedic volume of Council experiences.  

If you have yet to vote at this present Council by-election - nothing or no one you vote for is going to help this ratepayer, or any ratepayer for that matter, eventually get their hands on a drainage plan.