Bouncing Cheques, Part I
Farook called at 8 a.m. and asked me to join him. I said I could be ready by 9:30.
Farook showed up outside my flat at 9 and rang me to say he was waiting. When I had completed my morning ablutions, I straggled down at our agreed time, and he was perusing some papers. ‘I need you to use your brain to help me,’ he said, showing me the papers: a returned cheque for Dh 23,300 (about €4,000) with a form. The form had several boxes, such as, ‘Signature does not match,’ ‘Postdated,’ and ‘Account closed.’ But the box checked was ‘No Agreement,’ whatever that meant. There was a box for ‘Agreement not adequate,’ so I decided that the Arabic word that meant ‘balance’ had been translated as ‘agreement;’ however, Farook didn’t really know the Arabic word, so we weren’t sure.
Farook also had a letter from the police, in Arabic of course, and we proceeded to the bank. ‘This letter says,’ he translated, ‘that I have made a case against the person who has this account, that the bank is to send the police all their information about this person, with all the information about his account, and his passport and visa copy.’ Pointing at the next line of Arabic, he finished, ‘This says that they are not to give his private information to me, but must fax it directly to the police.’
So we took the letter to a branch of the bank on which the cheque had been drawn. ‘I need to use your phone.’ The customer service representative, a young lady from India, handed Farook the handset. He told her the number, and she dialled. He spoke in Arabic and wrote down a number. ‘We need to send a fax,’ and she pointed at a fax machine. ‘Please send this fax,’ he asked me, so I did.
‘I send this to my son,’ Farook confided.
We then took the two documents, a copy of the bounced cheque and the original police order, to the branch manager. He and Farook discussed the matter at length in Arabic. After which, Farook led me in a search for the manager’s boss, since the manager had not provided satisfaction. We went through a door marked, ‘Employees Only,’ and sought out the occupant of the largest office. Following a rather brief conversation in Arabic, we were escorted out of the part of the bank that was strictly for the use of employees, and Farook went up to a different customer service representative, this one an Arab woman.
He handed her the two papers, and she stamped them ‘Received 1 May 08,’ then called for the copy-wallah to make a copy for Farook.
Farook then led me to the copy machine and said to me, ‘Please make me three copies.’ I looked at the machine and tried to convince it to make a copy, but it just did the machine equivalent of sticking its tongue out at us and jeering. Imagine, if you will, an elderly Bedouin (which Farook pretends to be, though he really grew up in a city and has a post-graduate degree) and the Western equivalent (which, whatever that is, I actually am), completely at a loss before a modern multi-function copier. The copy-wallah came back and made us our copies and we went over to one of the long tables where people fill out deposit and withdrawal slips. Farook wrote on one of the copies in Arabic, and asked me to write the English translation: ‘Many thanks for your help. Please call me as soon as you have sent the required information to the police, and keep a copy for me to pick up.’
Then we took this copy with the writing to the bank manager, whom Farook thanked profusely in Arabic. Finally, Farook was satisfied that we had done all we could, and we left the bank.
As we were walking out the front door, we heard a loud argument between one Citizen wearing the customary dishdash and another Citizen wearing a uniform. Actually, only the dishdash was screaming, the uniformed Citizen was very polite.
The entire argument was in Arabic, but it was fairly obvious, even without my knowing any Arabic, that the dishdash was explaining to the uniform that he should be issuing citations to ex-pats, not to Citizens, even though the dishdash had illegally parked his huge SUV at a bus stop.
Farook translated the policeman: ‘I am just doing my job.’ And the dishdash got a ticket.
Farook showed up outside my flat at 9 and rang me to say he was waiting. When I had completed my morning ablutions, I straggled down at our agreed time, and he was perusing some papers. ‘I need you to use your brain to help me,’ he said, showing me the papers: a returned cheque for Dh 23,300 (about €4,000) with a form. The form had several boxes, such as, ‘Signature does not match,’ ‘Postdated,’ and ‘Account closed.’ But the box checked was ‘No Agreement,’ whatever that meant. There was a box for ‘Agreement not adequate,’ so I decided that the Arabic word that meant ‘balance’ had been translated as ‘agreement;’ however, Farook didn’t really know the Arabic word, so we weren’t sure.
Farook also had a letter from the police, in Arabic of course, and we proceeded to the bank. ‘This letter says,’ he translated, ‘that I have made a case against the person who has this account, that the bank is to send the police all their information about this person, with all the information about his account, and his passport and visa copy.’ Pointing at the next line of Arabic, he finished, ‘This says that they are not to give his private information to me, but must fax it directly to the police.’
So we took the letter to a branch of the bank on which the cheque had been drawn. ‘I need to use your phone.’ The customer service representative, a young lady from India, handed Farook the handset. He told her the number, and she dialled. He spoke in Arabic and wrote down a number. ‘We need to send a fax,’ and she pointed at a fax machine. ‘Please send this fax,’ he asked me, so I did.
‘I send this to my son,’ Farook confided.
We then took the two documents, a copy of the bounced cheque and the original police order, to the branch manager. He and Farook discussed the matter at length in Arabic. After which, Farook led me in a search for the manager’s boss, since the manager had not provided satisfaction. We went through a door marked, ‘Employees Only,’ and sought out the occupant of the largest office. Following a rather brief conversation in Arabic, we were escorted out of the part of the bank that was strictly for the use of employees, and Farook went up to a different customer service representative, this one an Arab woman.
He handed her the two papers, and she stamped them ‘Received 1 May 08,’ then called for the copy-wallah to make a copy for Farook.
Farook then led me to the copy machine and said to me, ‘Please make me three copies.’ I looked at the machine and tried to convince it to make a copy, but it just did the machine equivalent of sticking its tongue out at us and jeering. Imagine, if you will, an elderly Bedouin (which Farook pretends to be, though he really grew up in a city and has a post-graduate degree) and the Western equivalent (which, whatever that is, I actually am), completely at a loss before a modern multi-function copier. The copy-wallah came back and made us our copies and we went over to one of the long tables where people fill out deposit and withdrawal slips. Farook wrote on one of the copies in Arabic, and asked me to write the English translation: ‘Many thanks for your help. Please call me as soon as you have sent the required information to the police, and keep a copy for me to pick up.’
Then we took this copy with the writing to the bank manager, whom Farook thanked profusely in Arabic. Finally, Farook was satisfied that we had done all we could, and we left the bank.
As we were walking out the front door, we heard a loud argument between one Citizen wearing the customary dishdash and another Citizen wearing a uniform. Actually, only the dishdash was screaming, the uniformed Citizen was very polite.
The entire argument was in Arabic, but it was fairly obvious, even without my knowing any Arabic, that the dishdash was explaining to the uniform that he should be issuing citations to ex-pats, not to Citizens, even though the dishdash had illegally parked his huge SUV at a bus stop.
Farook translated the policeman: ‘I am just doing my job.’ And the dishdash got a ticket.
posted by Dubai@Random at 12:16 am
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