Illustration by Gary Clement for The National
You’re at the airport, all is well, you’re at passport control, your mind is preoccupied with your trip, then, you’re brought back to reality with a thud: there’s a problem, a case has been lodged against you with the police by a bank.
You cannot travel today, or any day in fact, until this matter is resolved.
Confused and angry perhaps, with a whirlwind of thoughts racing through your mind, you try to make sense of it. Police case? Debt? Bank? What? Well, you have all the time in the world to figure it out, because it’s not as if you’re going anywhere.
And so, you begin to unravel the “facts” as they are presented to you.
You go to the bank in question, and a dialogue starts. In one particular case I know of, it went something like this:
Former Customer (FC): But I closed the credit card account you’re referring to five years ago. I cleared the card, I owe nothing.
Banker (B):Do you have any record of this? Emails? This bank took over the bank that had issued you the credit card you’re talking about. We’ve been going over the old records. In fact, we’ve been trying to get in touch for years. (They were calling a number no longer used by the former customer.)
FC: I ran up credit card debt back then and negotiated a last payment. The banker I spoke to agreed and we settled the matter, I made my payment and the account was closed. All our agreements were verbal, face to face and over the phone. I don’t have emails.
B: I believe you. The banker you spoke to probably used your payment to hit his target, and most likely moved to a different bank a week later. (This was actually said.)
B (cont’d): Your problem is that we found a cheque for Dh14,000 you had written out, and this is the basis of the police case against you: failing to honour the cheque. You have no letter from the bank we took over stating that the account had been closed, and all debts cleared, and so the cheque you wrote still stands.
FC:But that was a guarantee requested by the bank in order for me to get a credit card. It was the only way a self-employed person like me could get a credit card. I assumed when I was told the account was closed, everything was sorted.
B:I believe you. But you don’t have any correspondence from the bank saying the credit card account had been terminated. We presented this cheque, and it bounced.
And on it goes. What would you do? The choices are limited: you can either dispute the claim, go to court, and effectively be a prisoner of sorts till it’s concluded, because your passport is now in the possession of the police. Court proceedings could take the longest time, and you, being self-employed, cannot get on with the business of focusing on your work and bringing in income, and all that stress will damage you. Plus it’s effectively your word and assumptions against a system and a bank going ahead with business as normal.
Or you could simply pay the money (Dh14,000 – ouch) and call it the cost of learning a lesson.
We all make mistakes. The question is: do we learn from them?
The lesson here is: don’t leave any banking or financial loose ends blowing around in the wind. They’ll surely weave their way back and choke you.
The problem is, we don’t even realise we have loose ends, not until they’re stifling our ability to make decisions, get on a plane, or simply get on with life.
The original article was first published in The National
