A Chaudry Doesn't Live Here

Ladies and gentlemen I have an announcement to make, and that announcement is this:

FUCK YOU ROYAL BANK OF SCOTLAND.

I am sick to the back teeth of getting letters through the door address to a person that doesn’t live and has never lived in my flat. The address is similar to mine, but the postcode seems to indicate a block of flats about a mile farther along the street. I’ve consistently marked these letters as RETURN TO SENDER: NOT KNOWN AT THIS ADDRESS and popped them back in the post, but still they come. I finally got fed up with their pish the last week and opened up one of the letters to find out who was sending them. It turns out that this one was a demand for settlement of an unauthorised overdraft from and a threat to send in sheriff’s officers to recoup the amount.

Naturally I baulked at the idea of sheriff’s officers turning up at my door because some asshole miles away can’t manage his finances. Doubly so because RBOS can’t get the addresses right in their database so I called up the number given on the letter to put the matter to rest.

More fool me.

I got shunted from pillar to post through half of the RBOS’s switchboard until I ended up in the grandly named debt recovery and risk management department. There a disinterested corporate automaton explained that they were very sorry I had been troubled by the letters. However they could only discuss the details of the account with the account holder. Fair enough I suppose: Security and all that has to be a priority after all.

“You’ll contact them then?” I asked. “And check the address?”

“I’ll arrange for someone to contact the account holder and verify the address,” said the Automaton.

“Good,” I said. “Thanks very much.”

Today I got another letter in with the same return address. Obviously nothing’s been done to update the account information. I wonder if I’ll get a better reaction by returning it like this:

Oh and Mr. A. Chaudry of Paisley Road West, Govan, Glasgow. If you’re out there could you please, for the love of all things good call up the Royal Bank of Scotland and tell them your damn address before I personally start coming up there and nailing their buring corpses and letters to the lampposts outside your house.

Best Regards,

Grey Kodiak.