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Monday, March 20, 2006

the barclays debacle documents

Under the Gun

Suddenly the unsecured connection opens for me. Talk about under the gun:

Up at dawn to cruise the city. dumb me, my freepass only works 9am-4pm so i'm ordered off with accusatory looks. Excuse to have large coffee and read paper at local cafetière.

is dawning on me, no use chatting up birds round here coz they only speak some slavic lingo.

Barclays Des Baclés: One has to ask oneself who bloody banks with *whom* (whinge moan)

Actually, some Anonyronimous Bosch-type whistle-blower is even disputing the *sex* of the "stalwarts" who've been putting Mum and me thru all these hoops. I'd better be polite and stick to "stalwarts" while they're all trying to complete this transaction in record quick time.

Maman has account with Knightsbridge branch who pay most bills. To call them, you go thru the Isle of Man who are *the* most stubborn unhelpful types. i simply need the phone account to set up broadband connection so's to bore y'all with instant postings. i have the very name of mum's personal banker but would you believe there are "several" David Browns at that branch and they wont put me thru. i need to make an appointment - aha! catch-22, but with which DB?

I already have a beef: when mum was over she met a Ms Janco Kruger who talked her thru the form with which to join me to her bottomless bank account (talk about sponging). mum returns to greece and i arrive in london and make appointment to sign my bit. i see another lady who immeidately tells me mum signed the wrong form and hands me another to send out to mum *plus* they needed certified fotocopy of her passport page.

corfu of course is locked in a postal strike so no mail getting thru. i ask why the heck they didnt get it right the first time round, adding that if the *customer* cocked it up like this and cost the *bank* this waste of time, boy we'd see it reflected in bank charges. shrug of shoulders. i threaten to submit invoice to the boss man.

B-Telecom: lesson in perseverance. First BT employee i talk to tells me no way can they give me mums a/c #. i try again and get a lovely lady who asks mums address and fone number and tells me she can send me a letter which will include account #. Moral: don't take ignorance for an answer but try again n you might get someone who actually knows the game.

I buy a dozen postcards and sit in a caff writing to my favorites. Behind me some local complains to pal about tourists hogging the tables; i clear space and invite them to sit, saying ... sod it! just hit some button on the laptop and about 20 mins typing just vanished.

Timetable: If the Debarclays team *do* want to pull this 3rd party transaction off promptly, they will have to put their socks on. We have just passed a milestone.

  • Thursday 9th March 2006, 1100hrs: To 38 Hans Crescent, there to seek Desk 10. Mlle Durbar sees me and tells me that Mlle Kruger had handed my mother the wrong form.

    Wednesday March 15: Speed correct documents to Maman in Greece for speedy completion and return to me

    Wednesday 29 March, 10:00hrs : back to accursèed De-Barclays for further leading on their merry chase.

    Friday April 7, desk 10: Meet with Les Barcleurs. My last chance before my April 11th flight to Greece. I bear letter-headed bank statement from my US bank. Ms Janca Krug takes them for photocopying and returns the original. I don't any more believe that anyone in that building has the slightest grasp of DeBacle's office procedure.

    Tuesday May 23, 2006: Corfu Greece: I am awoken from heavy siesta slumber by Ms Durbar informing me that they need the *original* bank statement, not the copy that Mamzel Janca handed back to me.

    So starts my campaign to find *someone* in that organisation capable of a) instructing me in what's needed for b) Joining me as 3rd party to my mother's account.

    It is not a pretty story and, as of today, March 12, 2008, not one whit nearer completion.

  • Comments:
    It is MR Kruger for your info...
    chortle. shades of "they call me MISTER kruger". well, i have sat opposite young mademoiselle as watched her sashay off to bungle still further the copying of my bank statement. i can tell a office procedure-challenged floosie when i see one.
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