It was only meant to be a courtesy call. Last Monday I packed my bags and headed off to Australia for a quick visit. As usual I contacted my bank to inform them of my travel plans so that when they started to see overseas entries they would not suspect anything untoward. You see? I really am thoughtful and even sensible at times.
And besides, one has to be careful in this era of cyber-crime. On the same day I made the call to the bank, I was the victim of cyber-crime myself!
Oh yes, dear reader. It was terrifying. I received an email from Netflix informing me my account had been used to watch movies and TV series from a "Smart TV" in "Pattaya, Thailand". This was unnerving, for I do not own a Smart TV, nor would I even think to go to Pattaya for fear of being seen there. It was a chilling wake-up call to the perils of this modern era, when cyber thieves and hackers are too cheap to cough up 280 baht a month.
The call began as normal, with my having to punch in my 12-digit credit card details "followed by the hashtag".
This used to give me all sorts of anxiety because I admitted for years I had a little trouble remembering which was the hashtag and which was the pound sign. I would end up having to make a wild guess, for which I had a 50% chance of being correct; then, when more often than not I failed to select the right icon, I would be informed by the automated banshee that I had provided the wrong information. Goodbye. Unceremoniously dropped. By a banshee. No wonder we hate the banks.
Well, these are more enlightened times. I now know what a hashtag is thanks to my Twitter and Facebook activity.
Last Monday, I confidently punched in my credit-card number plus the hashtag and waited. Next came the usual gaggle of menu numbers for all sorts of services or situations. The trick is to ignore all that and press 0 as quickly as possible, as that tends to get you to an operator in the shortest possible time.
"May I help you?" came the female voice in perfect English.
"Yes, I'm travelling business-class to Australia this evening," I explained in an officious tone. "And I wanted to inform you I'll be using my credit card over there."
"For how long will you be in Australia, sir?"
"Seven days."
"In which cities, sir?"
"Brisbane, my hometown. I was born there."
"And will you be travelling to any other country, sir?"
"No, I have a round-trip business-class ticket from Bangkok to Brisbane. And back."
"Thank you, sir. I would like to inform you that all charges you make in Australia will incur a 2.5% cent bank charge."
I gasped -- to myself, of course.
Two-point-five-percent interest? How wonderful! Normally this bank charges staggeringly high interest on my credit card every month. What is it … 20%? And they were reducing that to just 2.5%!? I should be taking business-class trips more often!
I admit to being careless and perhaps a little too carefree in other aspects of my life, but I do try to keep my credit cards in check. This is not because of any sensibility I may have towards my finances -- rather, it is my resentment toward banks charging an obscene compound interest rate that ends up hovering around 20%.
Well, it used to be 20%. Two years ago the Bank of Thailand tightened the rules on credit cards, which was a good thing, since it has been revealed that 90% of Thailand's manual-labour population is in debt. Thailand's household debt is one of the highest in Asia, around 78% of gross domestic product. Another interesting statistic: Thailand has approximately 7 million credit-card holders, holding a total of 20 million cards. In other words: three maxed-out credit cards for every card owner.
The Bank of Thailand dropped that rate to 18% in 2017. That, to me, is still criminally high, but it is the banking industry we are discussing here. At the time I wondered just how they were going to recoup that shortfall in revenue.
Last Monday, I got my answer.
"No, sir, not interest rate," the friendly bank lady said. "Charges."
"I don't understand,"
"Well, sir, if you buy something in Australia that costs 100 baht, it will show as 102.5 baht on your credit statement."
"For what?"
"For everything, sir."
"And you still charge your 17% interest on top of that?"
"Yes, sir."
Would you for the life of me stop calling me sir! How I wanted to say that but I held my tongue. That "sir" was like twisting the knife after being surreptitiously stabbed in the stomach.
What a clever move. What an ingenious, subtle, let's-give-the-middle-finger-to-the-Bank of Thailand move on behalf of the banks.
I am surprised there is not a 2.5% "user fee" on top of that -- the sheer act of plucking the card out of my wallet should attract some kind of fee, shouldn't it, banking gurus? How about a small fee for sending that paper statement to my house each month? Perhaps a fee for making a payment off my credit card?
A few hours later I was sitting in the business lounge at Suvarnabhumi, sipping on a pre-flight orange juice, contemplating this brand-new charge.
The sheer fact that credit cards exist is for banks to extend credit for those of us in a financial state willing and able to pay them back. For this service we are slugged with an 18% interest rate. This is akin to being burnt at the stake for stealing a loaf of bread, but let's not get into that. That part of it we begrudgingly accept.
Let's focus, instead, on the inherent agreement between user and bank. I use the card, and pay an interest for the service.
Now my bank is charging me 2.5% just for using the card. I don't think that was ever part of the agreement we made. Does anybody over at the Bank of Thailand know about this? Did my bank executives think this up on some balmy Wednesday afternoon over a plate of unripe mango dipped in sugar and chilli?
Recently on Netflix I watched a movie with some very graphic violence. Some guy had cheated on his wife and she, not unlike what happens regularly in Isan with farang wives, ordered her brothers to get even with him. Only this wasn't to get her hands on his wealth; in the movie she just wanted to pay him back for his sexual transgressions.
The two brothers beat the living daylights out of him. They slugged him everywhere possible. After the savage beating the guy was lying on the floor in agony in a pool of blood. The two guys walked away. Then, at the door, one of them turned around and walked back to the crumpled mess and kicked him one last time on the side, rendering the guy unconscious and lifeless. One last time.
I know how he feels. I left the credit card at home.
