‘Sorry Madam, but your card has been declined,’ the shop assistant said, passing back my card.
I tried again, but the machine wouldn’t allow my purchases. There was money in my account; my wages only went in today. I only checked first thing this morning. As I swiped left on my phone, I was aware of the queue forming behind me. There must be some mistake.
‘That isn’t right,’ I say, more to myself than the angry pensioners behind me.
There is only one pence in my account, the whole of my wages disappeared from my bank. My fingers slide down to each purchase. I was definitely sure I didn’t buy petrol today – at least not diesel and not fifty pounds worth.
It is then I give up, and walk away from the cashier.
I ring my bank, and after ten minutes I finally get through to a non robot.
‘Are you sure you didn’t buy three bottles of champagne?’
‘I’m sure, I don’t even drink. My identity has been stolen,’ I say.
‘It seems like that doesn’t it.’
‘It is like that, I can assure you I don’t drink, and don’t even drive a car!’
All my wages gone, and I haven’t even paid my mortgage this month. They tell me I will get the money back, but won’t give me any date. How did this happen to me? I’m careful on line, never give any information unless I know the other person.
I had been talking with The Prince of Nabila for six months before I gave him my bank account details. How could this happen to me?