Sweet sweet irony
I hate my bank. They once lost an account of mine and claimed it had never existed. Only after I threatened them with the banking ombudsman did it magically rematerialise along with their profuse apologies. It took seven years for them to spell my name correctly. My fault I suppose because I only reminded them once a month when my statements came. I once ordered a cheque book – which didn’t come. I told them that and asked for another, and another – seven times. They all arrived three months later pre-cancelled by them.
As I may have mentioned a time or two on this blog, my daughter is only about fifteen minutes old whereas I’m in my fifties and so know nothing whilst she, on the other hand, knows all there is to know about everything.
One of the many manifestations of my daughter’s vast wealth of knowledge is to buy many things she’ll never use from web sites, few of which ever show that ugly padlock thingy in the corner.
The result of this is that she’s always being ripped off and after being dragged to the bank by yours truly to have her debit card cancelled yet again has to wait a week until she can have another while she leeches off me since it’s clearly all my fault.
Yet again my daughter has had her card cloned. Unusually, the bank noticed the anomalous payment and immediately phoned to ask if it was from her. No, she said, and they immediately invalidated her card. But this time, I can hardly believe it since the sharks usually delight in charging outrageous fees for being even one pound overdrawn, it transpires that she had no money in her account with the result that not only did the scammer/spammer steal the bank’s money, but they can’t even charge her their typically merciless overdraft fee since it wasn’t her fault, meaning they have to swallow it all.
Sometimes life is sweet.