A visit to 'the cantine' today gave me ... well, it gave me three things (but I just can't believe the first one's still dragging on, not on a diet of pasta, rice and the few other items I'm allowed; my chocolate collection is growing, since I mustn't eat it now, so my hoard for Friday hand-outs will be richer when I get back to work), of which the second was friendly faces and the third a tale about a credit card scam new to me, though three or four years old.
A regular whose name I should know but don't recounted the entertaining but lengthy story, which could have cost him 20,000 francs (a bit more than 3,000 euros, or 3,500 dollars).
He got just half of it back.
It was the start of a long Pentecost weekend when he made a withdrawal from a "hole in the wall". Or so he planned, before the automatic teller, which he noticed was a newly refurbished one, ate his card without explanation.
On his trip to the bank to protest when it was finally open again, they denied having collected his card and sent him to his own bank to make a complicated claim. So he did, but the card never showed up again.
The state of his bank account, however, was a shock.
Here's what transpired. At the machine, the thieves had installed a keyboard on top of the usual one, apparently a practice stolen from American villains, so thin (less than four centimetres) and such a snug fit that you'd not notice when you type in your PIN number.
During the weekend, they somehow pinched not only the cards in the teller, but reclaimed the rigged keyboard - along with the PIN numbers it had recorded.
For a couple of days, they had a fine old time, even managing to use his card in one or two shops. One of the reasons my acquaintance saw 10,000 francs returned was that he had never signed his credit card on the back, as he showed us, warning us to do likewise. Because when it came to the signatures relating to some of the fraudulent purchases, they didn't match the one on record at his own bank at all.
It's never occurred to me not to sign a credit card, since in Britain and some other places they still make you sign the ticket in shops as they used to do here. Malek actually scratched out the signature on his own card on hearing this, but I'll think twice before going that far.
Meanwhile, one bank down the street still owes me a "mere" 60 euros, debited from my account after their machine spat back my card on March 30 but failed to produce either banknotes or ticket. When I went to see about that a couple of days later, I was told that I was already person number 20 to moan, but would be reimbursed swiftly.
The money still hasn't shown up. So yesterday I had another go, and this time had to produce a letter and a bunch of paperwork. Mr Bank Manager himself eventually appeared, wringing his hands and profusely apologetic. He blamed it all on dust in the works.
This would scarcely be worth adding were it not for the fact that the computerised records for the fateful day's dealings had gone, leaving nothing but a written not on file from the day's duty clerk reporting a problem with the machine and the total loss to clients of ... 120 euros.
Only two of that score or more had ever registered a formal written complaint! This is unfortunate. The bank is virtually next door to a hotel used by countless foreign tourists. I'll bet that 60 euros was nothing compared to the sums one or two of them must have tried to withdraw.
They must have had a really delightful stay!
Apparently, there's plenty about avoiding such nastiness right here, if you know where to look, because I'm blowed if I do. I just love the (current?) ad in the corner. Reminds me of my Hotmail in-box... Oh well, back off to the watery hole in the bathroom, speaking of flushing things out.
6:37:46 PM link 
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Maybe I should stick to the continent I know best, which is not the one I live on. I can just about name what most bits of the former Soviet Union have become, but I've scarcely the remotest idea how many countries the "new Europe" might include when it gets enlarged.
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