John Walker's Electronic House

Some complete bastard in Romania has spent today robbing me.

Romania!

The bank called, saying there were some suspicious transactions taking place on my debit card, and they wanted to check them with me. A delightful gentlemen ignored all my questions and told me that he would suspend the card, and that I should wait two to three working days before enquiring further. “But will I get my money back?!” I blustered. “I am unable to answer that…” he replied in broken English, reeling off something I couldn’t understand about why he couldn’t reply. “Ok, I understand,” I said, “But what is the normal procedure?” “I’m unable to answer that…” “No, I just want to know, what is the usual procedure in these cases? How do I go about getting my money back?” “I’m unable to answer that…”

I decided to phone the number on the back of my debit card for enquiries. A machine voice told me that if I entered my bank details, my call would be answered more quickly. I did so, and was promptly told my account balance by an old machine lady, then dumped to the default menu. Odd. I tried the Stolen Card number, which is ingeniously also printed on the card. Choosing the option that I didn’t want Card Guard, I was told that if I entered my bank details, my call would be answered more quickly. I did so, and was promptly told my account balance by an old machine lady, then dumped to the default menu. Annoying. I tried again, this time picking options that had to lead to a human. She said to me, “I will put you through to the fraud department,” and I waited on hold until a familiar machine voice told me if I entered my bank details, my call would be answered more quickly. I didn’t. I’ll try Card Guard, I thought, on a whim. A kind man shared my concern about the initial call, and the refusal to answer questions, and indeed the lack of a security check before he told me my entire account details. He gave me a direct number for the fraud department. A bit too direct, as it took me through to a private line for banks only, which made the lady cross. She promised to put me through… to the credit card fraud line, who were annoyed that I’d want to discuss a debit card. They put me through… to a mumbling Indian lady trapped at the bottom of a well with only a tin can and a length of string. Even more entertainingly, I was hearing her live, while she appeared to have a two second delay on all I said. This made for some fun times! But despite her imprisonment, she was a kindly soul who bothered to answer any questions I had. She even told me in which country the money was being withdrawn, and then asked some seemingly vital questions before the fraud investigation would go ahead. Thanks first guy! You’re a massive cock! Thank goodness for the nice well-bound lady.

Will I get my £240 back? WHO KNOWS? Stay tuned for more exciting instalments in the tale of How John Was Robbed By Romania. Check your statements, folks.