Normally, I’m all for foolish pranks. The years of my mispent youth are often fodder for late night chats in dingy pubs. But this. This. This is not a prank.
Background:
Husband and I lived in France. While there, we had (like happy little consumers) a bank card and a Visa/Debit style card. Right. No problem. We left France in December 2002 (Yay!) and moved to his native Ireland. Anyway, I sent repeated letters to notify French Bank that we’d changed our address. My husband left a voicemail for the banker at our local branch to inform her we had changed our address. Apparently, she’d resigned shortly after we’d come to Ireland yet her voicemail hadn’t been deactivated.
Anyway, we left about 500Euros in the account to cover any last minute charges. 'Round about May or so, we used the French card here for a few purchases. No worries. We had money in the account. Right? Wrong!! We are now about 379 Euros overdrawn because why? Why? Oh, and did I mention that the bank closed the credit card three weeks prior to the following event on the grounds that they had gotten no forwarding address? The forwarding address I sent them three times? Once by registered letter, which I’ve confirmed reached them?? Why? The letter was in English and made it’s way to the circular file. But THAT is another issue altogether. What I’m here to bend your ear about is this:
Apparently, one Mr. R. Brown, who hails from the US of A decided that it was his given right as a snot-nosed punk to gank my husband’s credit card number and order plane tickets on Ryan Air. See, you can order them on line. Yay! You can even order the tickets using your name and credit card and someone else’s passenger information. Yay! They are a ticketless airline so there’s no paper ticket. You just arrive at the airport, show them your passport and tell them your confirmation number. They never check your credit card or anything. Oh, joy!!
R. Brown wanted a trip from my town to Manchester, so somehow, the slimebucket managed to find (either in a bin, or from a shop or somewhere, we don’t know yet) my husband’s card number. Not even the expiry date. Just the card number. He really really wanted that plane ticket. Mean old Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t buy it for him. Hrmph! See! I’ll show them! Send me on a student exchange and not provide me with unlimited funds? I’ll show YOU!
So, seems quite simple. Get the guards and the bank and the airline to claim it as fraud, right? Right? I mean, what kind of eejit gives his correct address, name and phone number (a mobile which has since been cancelled) when ordering plane tickets on a strangers credit card? R. BROWN!! HE DID IT!
Again, you’re saying, “Lame rant. Jeez. Give the kid a break. I’m sure he didn’t make the Varsity Lacrosse team or break 1000 on his SATs.”
Here’s where I go ballistic. This is the part where I absolutely lose the head. We are in the process of making a bid on a house and applying for a mortgage. The French bank who has to resolve this is closed Friday and Monday. Therefore, there can be no confirmation that our account in France is in fact in arrears and overdrawn because of fraud. The tickets he bought totalled 250Euro or so, but that brought our account into overdrawn status and we’ve been paying penalties and interest since then, now bringing us nearly 400 Euros in arrears.
Someone else is going to bid on that house this weekend. If some poncey spoiled American college kid hasn’t ganked their credit card for his own folly, they’ll get the house. We won’t. We cannot even make the bid until this is all cleared and the French bank writes a letter to our bank/Mortgage broker telling them this problem is not our fault. The guards of course, are telling us they’ll do what they can. Can WE extradite him just to give him a slap upside the head?
Now, on a serious note, the guards here WILL go after him in the States if it’s the last thing I do. The bank in France and Ryan Air, I’m sure, can write this all off as fraud and get on with it. Someone else will be living in my dream house, sunning themselves on my Dream House Patio. They’ll be showering in my Italian-doored shower!!
Because of this brat.
