Chon’s family has had a long-running problem with officials in regard to the spelling of their last name. On Chon’s father’s birth certificate Vasquez is spelled like that: Vasquez.
Chon’s sister Elena, who has historically spelled her last name Basquez, (yes, birth certificate and all) recently had problems with her medical insurance because someone misspelled her name when filling out an annual form; Elena didn’t notice, and her brand, spanking-new identification read Bosques. She couldn’t receive services for several months, and had to show her birth certificate and other identifications to get a new card. This took several trips to different offices.
Chon is enrolled in a government program for financial assistance for small farmers. It provides help for buying seed, etc. Last year at the end of May the people at the Procampo told him that they had opened a bank account for him, and he should go to the bank to confirm the account. He decided he wasn’t interested in the account. But this year they told him that they had deposited his check in the account. So we went to finalize the account so he could with draw the money when we need it for farming expenses.
At the Accounts desk the woman reviewed his documents and said. “Procampo has misspelled your name”. (As Vazquez.) She couldn’t officially open the account. She suggested that we get a letter from Procampo stating that no matter how his name was spelled, he was really him. We went right back there and got a very official-looking letter with a seal and an enormous, artful signature and gave it to the bank official. She said that she would send it to the main bank with copies of his identifying documents, and that we could return in three days. But not really three days, because of May 1st, Labor Day. We waited a couple of extra days, because – well, just because. When we returned yesterday the same woman was not there, so Chon re-told the story to another person. She said that headquarters had not made the spelling change.
She suggested that we go to the branch where the account was located, and see if they could help. (Why didn’t they just tell us where the account was located in the first place, I wondered.)
We went there and the accounts woman looked at the documents and said,”You just need a replacement card for the one we gave you originally.” (They hadn’t. Or Procampo hadn’t, or – whatever.) She said, “Your name is correct, so I’ll make you a new card.” We glanced at each other. Correct?