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Enjoying David’s fitness sense
Sir,
It was refreshing to read the recent Fitness article by a newcomer to
Pattaya. Rather than the physiological dirges gleaned from obscure fitness
journals, we are treated to plain English and good sense.
Having had more than one Christmas dinner of fried rice followed by a glass
of water in pursuit of excellent health, I’m delighted to see a breath of
sanity arrive.
Since one sees vivid examples of all the afflictions of excess here in
Pattaya, there is an everyday reminder not to overindulge.
John Angus
Thank you farang wife
Editor,
Re: “The Disillusioned Farang Wife”
Thanks for telling your story so openly. It really helps me to know mine is
not the only husband so inflicted with this destructive and unnatural
setting. I need all the support I can get and you have provided lots.
Kob Khun Ka,
“Khunying”
Happy Holidays
Dear Editor,
Its a pleasure to say how blessed the people of Pattaya are when they read
every column of the Pattaya Mail. It gives them protection and warning to
guard themselves, through Pattaya Mail.
We the Church, Dayspring Christian Center Banglamung, wishing you the
blessing and joys of Christmas and a New Year of happiness.
Rev. Arthur Perkins
A New Year’s
promise everyone should keep:
Promise yourself:
Promise yourself to be so strong
that nothing can disturb your peace of mind.
To talk health, happiness and prosperity to every person you meet.
To make all your friends feel
that there is something in them.
To look at the sunny side of everything
and make your optimism come true.
To think only of the best,
to work only for the best
and expect only the best.
To be just as enthusiastic about the success of others
as you are about your own.
To forget the mistakes of the past
and press on to the greater achievements of the future.
To wear a cheerful countenance at all times
and give every living creature you meet a smile.
To give so much time to the improvement of yourself
that you have no time to criticize others.
To be too large for worry, too noble for anger,
too strong for fear
and too happy to permit the presence of trouble.
-Christian D. Larson
TIPPLER’S BANKING TALE
Whilst many of my tales are a combination of fact and fiction, this tale is
actually true from start to finish. I have decided not to caption the
offending bank as it seems that some such institutions seem to get a little
peeved when their practices of premeditated fraud are exposed, although most
of them could not give a damn if their customers are dissatisfied at their
behaviour.
As far as the bank’s identity is concerned, I will say no more than there
may have been some agricultural influence at the time the name was decided
upon.
This sorry tale starts when I instructed my UK bank to transfer a not
inconsiderable sum of money to this bank in Pattaya. I have made countless
transfers via this route and the bank has always used the same template that
was set up some three years previous. Not this time.
A week having passed and still no funds to be seen here in Thailand, I was
becoming more than a little agitated with the ‘I couldn’t give a flying
flip’ attitude of the bank staff. The first conversation that made me sorely
tempted to drag the arrogant little incompetent over the counter and then
blend him into the nearest wall was when I heard the words ‘Your money not
come. Your bank England cheat you.’
I then demanded to speak to someone in authority at their H.Q. in Bangkok. I
was tossed a hastily prepared note upon which had just been scribbled a
Bangkok telephone number as the ‘Officer’, as they grandiosity like to call
themselves, turned his back on me and began dealing with a Thai girl who had
typically jumped the queue.
That was it.
The volume of my protestations not only made it impossible for the ‘Officer’
to conclude what ever business the raunchy little tart had to conduct, but a
crowd was also drawn.
I was now live on stage.
I first demanded to speak to the manager but it seemed that the man in
question only took ‘work breaks’ as he was usually at lunch for the majority
of the day. I then vociferously insisted that the ‘Officer’ telephone his
Head Office in Bangkok at his organisation’s expense and take the
opportunity to demonstrate to myself and my newly found supporters that he
had marginally more business acumen than a freshly gassed badger.
Lo and behold he actually managed to dial without supervision and was
successful in talking with someone on the other end of the line!
Eventually I was passed the receiver and attempted to explain the situation.
Unfortunately, Laos is not my strongest language and so I had to slip in to
pidgin English to make the female cotton on to the fact that I did not have
the slightest inkling as to what she was gabbling on about.
At last an ‘Officer’ who spoke a modicum of English took to the phone. I
shall simply state that as she was not prepared to give her name, ‘Vinegar
Tits’ is the name that comes to mind whenever I have the misfortune to think
of her.
I re-explained the situation to her although it would have been more
rewarding trying to glean insider stock market information from a blind,
one-legged street beggar suffering from acute hearing difficulties.
Doubtless she was on the shortlist for employee of the year.
The frustrating exchange ended with this pompous incumbent of the ‘Ivory
Tower’ continuing to insist that the money had categorically not been
received from UK and so I should contact them myself and ask them as to why
they were cheating me.
Briefly explaining the content of the conversation to the gallery (which now
included three other farangs who had transferred amounts ranging from thirty
to fifty thousand pounds sterling and were in the same boat as myself) I
departed to seek the refuge of a convenient watering hole.
That evening I telephoned my bank and I was assured that the funds had been
sent to Bangkok precisely in accordance with my instructions, quoting me the
international reference under which the funds had been sent.
As I walked into the branch the following day, the ‘Officer’ who I had
adopted as my go-between visibly winced as he saw me. Largely for theatrical
effect, I slammed down the piece of paper with the reference number on the
counter in front of him and demanded that he telephone the infernal woman in
Bangkok without delay. The ‘Officer’ once again got straight through to my
adversary with astonishingly consummate ease, particularly given the extent
to which his hands were uncontrollably shaking. He has probably been fired
by now for showing a glimmer of efficiency. My Thai wife pointed out the
sweat that was pouring down the ‘Officer’s’ neck and appealed to me to not
raise my voice on the telephone to the woman in Head Office and not to be so
rude and disrespectful to her because I would therefore lose my face. I
simply replied that I would speak to the acetic bitch in the same way that
she spoke to me and so I could make no promises. Just as well, it was to
transpire. (I still find it difficult to see how I would be the one losing
face, but that’s a different issue).
I took the sweat-soaked receiver from the trembling ‘Official’ and was once
again in personal contact with my recently made Bangkok enemy. I quoted the
international reference supplied by my UK bank to the frosty voice which
‘greeted’ me, although it prompted as about much interest to her as last
week’s lottery number.
Then, something of a breakthrough! She actually admitted that they had
indeed received my funds three days after I had instructed my bank in UK.
Assuming that the problem was therefore solved, I naïvely asked her as to
why they were hanging on to my money (to be honest, my outburst lasted for a
good few minutes as I specifically suggested the precise reasons for their
blatantly fraudulent behaviour).
The Bangkok brickwall would have none of it. The obnoxious old sow simply
maintained that the name on my account number had my Christian names
specified in full, whereas the money transfer only quoted my Christian name
initials. When I pointed out that every other transfer had been done in
exactly the same way (after a sharp volley of verbal venom from yours
truly), she said that she would check my history file on her computer. She
came back some minutes later and pompously announced that I had never made a
transfer from UK to the account in question. Having my pass book in front of
me, it did not take a genius to reel off the last four transfers that had
been made this year, quoting their own references.
Surprisingly, the telephone went silent. When the nasty piece of work
eventually regained the power of speech, all she could do was advise me that
I must contact my bank in UK and get them to send her confirmation of my
full Christian names. She maintained that my brother could be trying to
steal money from me, because that sort of thing happens in the UK.
I put it to her that not only would it be odd for brothers to have the same
initials, but to have the same bank account numbers in both the UK and
Thailand would surely be something to be included in the Guinness Book of
Records. She was expectedly unimpressed.
I telephoned my bank in UK that evening and was happy that they did not
laugh at my situation: I was simply told that they have hundreds of similar
problems when dealing with Thailand and there have been far more ridiculous
excuses given than the tripe that I had been offered.
So, next was day fifteen of this farce. As we entered the bank I was certain
that my ‘Officer’ was about to have a major seizure, or at the very least a
full-blown panic attack. For some reason, I had not an ounce of aggression
within me. We paraded into the branch and I was full of smiles as I made a
beeline to my conscripted ‘Officer’. I casually tossed the pass book to the
quivering wreck who was clearly contemplating a career change and requested
an update at his best expedition.
It took him three attempts to slot the open book into the printer, in which
time I offered possible reasons as to why the transfer had still not yet
been completed. I suggested such unavoidable circumstances such as: the lady
who works the computer in Bangkok had hurt her finger and therefore could
not send the money; perhaps the money was still invested on the falling
stock market and so I would have to wait until things turn around; the
Bangkok manager’s grandmother needed an emergency operation and he would
sort things out as soon as she was better...
As I was about to lose my composure and launch into my ‘You bunch of
thieving.........!’ routine, the ‘Official’ incredulously announced that my
money had finally arrived, the relief on his face being clear for to all to
see.
I quickly checked the exchange rate that I had been given and proceeded to
deduct the interest they had stolen from me plus the cost of the needless
telephone calls to UK that I had been forced to make. I am happy to report
that I made a net profit in excess of Baht 40,000 thanks to their feckless
attempts to cheat me, simply because the pound sterling has been
strengthening over the recent weeks. My experience is by no means an
isolated incident and I dread to think how much these unscrupulous
organisations openly steal from their clients per annum. I have little doubt
that the total will run into billions of baht.
As and when foreign banks are eventually allowed to operate over here in
Thailand (for those of you who are unaware, Thailand has already signed up
to this and will find it very difficult in the eyes of the international
com-munity to renege), I believe that the Thai banking system will fall into
the sewers where they will be in good company.
So as not to appear churlish, may I simply say thanks to the bank in
question for my recent little windfall. Long may they continue to shoot
themselves in the foot and I look forward to their inevitable demise.
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