Dear Editor,
Ah, the good old days of pension books! There’s something almost romantic about a system where unauthorized copies of old age pension and permanent disability books are making surprise appearances at post offices across the country, like forgotten relics of a time when ink and paper ruled supreme. The recent announcement from the Ministry of Human Services and Social Security about these rogue books is a sharp reminder that, in a world teeming with debit card technology, Guyana has chosen to cling to the beloved past—warts and all.
Now, I understand that digital payments, debit cards, and PIN numbers are all part of some futuristic fantasy land where transactions happen with a swipe and fraud prevention is a mere afterthought. Who wouldn’t miss the thrill of a pension book exchange, that tangible handshake between citizen and state, where you don’t just receive your pension, you encash it—like a cowboy riding into town to cash in on hard-earned spoils?
Sure, debit cards offer security and convenience, but where’s the nostalgia in that? Why deny our elderly the delightful frustration of dealing with physical pension books, or the occasional horror of realizing unauthorized copies are floating around like lost love letters in the wind? The seamless efficiency of digital payments would be a cruel blow to tradition, wouldn’t it?
But, heaven forbid, if we must consider such modern-day madness, perhaps the Ministry could throw a bone to the growing ranks of Guyanese seniors still waiting in line with their pension books. Debit cards, with their ability to limit fraud and provide convenience, could, in some dystopian future, replace our cherished system. Imagine—a world where benefits arrive safely and swiftly, where the elderly can conduct their business with a card as light as their pensioner hearts. Boring, right?
One can only hope that the Ministry will someday, reluctantly, embrace this digital age. But until then, we’ll continue to marvel at our pension books—treasured relics of a simpler, albeit riskier, time.
Sincerely,
Keith Bernard
