A smooth sea never made a skillful mariner -- English proverb
It's incredibly frustrating to function financially in England if one lacks British citizenship. Even dangling deposit money in front of official noses doesn't make a dent in their demeanor.
"Good morning, sir. Your utility company is deducting 215 pounds (about $300) monthly for propane gas, but as our cottage, in the midst of flood-restoration, hasn't used gas for 8 months, this seems excessive (I've mastered the British art of understatement). Further, you keep insisting Mr. Firks wasn't born on his birthday. May we discuss it? "
"Certainly, madam. May I have your account number?
Thank you. Are you Mrs. Firks? No? Clearly, you are not Mr. Firks, either. Unfortunately, we (note the Imperial 'We') cannot review this matter with anyone but him. And since you are not listed on this account, we are powerless to continue."
"But," I protested, "I merely want to discuss these charges."
"Alas,' he pontificated, unctuously, "Though you are a relation, you are not the account holder, so further discussion is impossible."
I was cheerfully wished a good day. Click.
(Power-of-Attorney papers are in the works; meanwhile, these outrageous fees continue to be deducted.)
I couldn't open even a savings account there. Executive eyes became hooded, postures stiffened, and officials developed long-distance looks as they moved into computer mode. "We are sorry, but it is not possible to accommodate your request. You are not British."
"But," I protested, "I merely want to insert funds INTO your bank for the purpose of paying monthly bills."
"We are sorry," they chorused, "but this is not possible."
I developed calluses on my head from banging it on British bank walls. Every august institution viewed me as a potential terrorist. Though I patiently explained my situation at Bryn Garth Cottage -- how I needed to transfer U.S. funds to pay bills and finance restoration until the insurance claim was settled -- it didn't matter two pins. Rules Were Rules. "Aliens may not open an account," one starched-undies banker sniffed -- "money-laundering, you know." Though I protested I'd never laundered more than my dirty clothes, he wouldn't budge. Bureaucracy and I-- Elephant and gnat -- bumped noses. I got stomped flat.
Baffled, I retreated into a teashop to rethink things. Problems have solutions. What I needed was a banker able to think out-of-the-box. Uh-huh. That sort is scarcer than a vampire craving yogurt.
My solution? A British offshore bank. I filled out a zillion forms, but no matter how many gold-sealed, notarized documents were sent from my accountant, banker, lawyer, etc., they weren't satisfied. When another letter arrived, declaring they needed more proof I was harmless -- proof not required in the previous letter -- I blew.
With massive self-control I rang them at 5 a.m. (accommodating the 5-hour time difference) and quietly announced they'd changed the rules in the middle of the game. I wouldn't provide One. More. Scrap. of paper. They'd either approve me, or send back my three thousand pound deposit immediately.
Hmmm. He thought it over. Bankers HATE money going out. "I'll ring you back, ma dam."
"Fine," said I. "You have 2 hours. Decide."
Five minutes before the deadline he rang. They were delighted to welcome me into their bank.
(Ha! I allowed myself a fist-in-the-air!) Briskly, staying passionless, I requested checkbook and debit card immediately. They roared through the post in 4 days.
That's Power.
Now I pay bills in pounds sterling without paying English lawyers to pay them, and save the $45 incurred every time I'd wire money.
As always, adversity is simply opportunity in work clothes...
Dee Blair's Sunnybank Gardens are at 325 Sixth St. in Traverse City. Visit her Web site, www.deeblair.com for more information. Find more of her columns online at record-eagle.com/deeblair.
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