I agreed to trade Nayf‘s Seagull Story Of Terror for my own tale of dastardly dealings and childhood bank fraud. He’s fulfilled his side of the bargain, so I’m honour-bound to keep mine. So, here goes.

When I was younger, I had an account with the Halifax Building Society. I was a member of the Little Xtra Club. So far as I could tell, this basically entailed getting a free money box and magazine four times a year in exchange for letting someone else look after your money. Fair enough. Besides, the money box was quite cool, and the magazine got you discounts for Pleasurewood Hills, so I was quite happy with the whole deal. Over time, I amassed what was a not insubstantial quantity of money for a young child, through carefully ensuring that all the cool stuff I wanted could in some way be construed as educational, and therefore something I could get other people to pay for. All was good, I was loaded, and I had the biggest collection of Usborne computer and junior science books you’ve ever seen.

Fast forwards a few years. I’m a bit older, a bit craftier, and still have the account at the Halifax. My parents have decided that I’m now old enough to look after the account myself, and transfer it out of my mother’s name into mine. This meant I now had immediate access to my money, which was good, but it also meant that I was now pre-destined to commit fraud against the Halifax. No, really. Stick with me.

Shortly after I gained control over my account, the Halifax announced their decision to become a bank. I had no idea whether this was a good thing or not, because so far as I was aware, banks and building societies were basically the same thing. All I knew was that they were promising Free Money for all customers if they became a bank. That was good enough for me. I was in. This, however, is the point where things got a bit complicated. What Free Money they were going to give you depended on (a) how much money you had and (b) how old you were. If you were over 18, you got about ukp1,500 worth of shares. If you were under 18, you got about 50quid, cash. I was under 18, so I was due to get the 50quid.

Or so I thought.

Y’see, they sent me the share claim form. Being a conscientious young citizen, I figured this wasn’t right, so I double checked the T&Cs – I was under 18, so therefore I wasn’t entitled to the shares. So, I rang them up. They agreed with me – what seemed to have happened is that when the account was transferred into my name, they’d left my mum’s date of birth on the account. I told them my correct date of birth, and they said they’d send out the form to claim my 50quid.

They sent me another share claim form.

I rang them up again and asked what I should do. They ummed and ahhed a bit and told me that there’d probably been a mistake, and I should wait for another form. So I did. I waited for two weeks. Nothing came through. It was nearing the claim deadline. A plan formed in my devious teenage mind.

I wrote a letter. The general gist of this letter was: “I am not entitled to these shares. Enclosed in the envelope with this letter is a completed share claim form, for the shares which I am not entitled to. You should not give me these shares, but I’m claiming them on the offchance that you’re very stupid and haven’t bothered to read this letter.” I filled out the claim form – complete with my date of birth – stuck it in the envelope with the letter and posted it.

A couple of days later, I got a share certificate through the post for ukp1,500 worth of Halifax shares.

I rang the Halifax again. I explained what had happened, and what I’d done. This time, however, they got a bit upset. They told me that what I’d done was technically fraud, and that if I didn’t want to get into any legal trouble over this, I should return the share certificate to my nearest branch, who would sort out getting me the 50quid I was supposed to have received.

My Dad opined that they were clearly talking bollocks, as I hadn’t deceived anyone in order to obtain the money; indeed, I had clearly outlined my intentions in the letter I had sent with the share claim form, and informed the society not once, but twice, of their mistake. But on the offchance that they had a leg to stand on, I should probably return the share certificate anyway, ‘cos, y’know, criminal convictions can be a bit inconvenient when it comes to things like jobs and mortgages in later life.

If I’d have thought about it a bit more and not panicked at their threat of legal action, I’d probably have had a decent argument for keeping the shares. But as it was, I returned the certificate and eventually (four months late) got my 50quid. I was quietly gutted, but I could at least truthfully claim that I had succesfully defrauded a major high-street bank and got away with it, even if I did return the money.

There is, however, a happy end to this story. My brother also had an account with the Halifax. But, as he was younger than me, this account was still in our Mum’s name. Which meant that rather than the measly 50quid I’d got out of them, he was indirectly entitled to the full whack 1,500. Seeing as my parents are nothing but fair (and because I’d have kicked up a fuss the likes of which they’d never seen before) it was agreed that, if I gave David half of my 50quid, I could have half of his 1,500. That seemed like a fair deal to me 🙂

I’m at work again. My girlfriend is less than impressed, as I’ve been promising her a weekend together for a couple of months now, and so far it hasn’t materialised. We ship on Wednesday. With any luck.

This entry was posted on Sunday, November 9th, 2003 at 2:56 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.