Where there’s a will
A party was in progress somewhere off Lahore’s
Mall
last week, when the host sent his chauffeur to a nearby
hotel
to pick up a few crates of
Rooh Afza
. After some time had elapsed, and his guests were getting antsy, the host got a distraught phone call from his chauffeur saying he had been held up at a police check point and that the police had checked the boot of the car and found the crates of sherbet. The host hurried to the check point only to discover that his chauffeur and precious cargo of Rooh Afza had been carted off to the nearest
police station
. Upon arrival at the station, the host was taken to a police official who, without beating about the bush, asked for a cash bribe of
Rs 15,000/
to let the cargo go. The host paid up quickly and took possession of his crates of sherbet. As he was leaving, a posse of helpful policeman told him that he might be held up at the next check post on his way to the venue of his party, and wouldn’t it be wiser to let
them
drop off the cargo? They asked for an extra bribe of
Rs 1000/
to safely convey the sherbet to the venue in their official police van. The host agreed, handed out the note, got into his car and led the police van to the venue of his party where the police posse duly unloaded the booze. Where there’s a will, there’s a way.
Banking on banks
Late last year, a popular
television actor
got a phone call from her outfit designer saying one of her cheques had bounced. Stunned, the actor said she had enough money in her account, and would find out. Before she could do so, she got a phone call from her second bank, Faysal Bank, where a manager told her that he was in receipt of a Rs 67,000/ cheque signed with her name that did not match her signatures. This, despite the fact that Faysal Bank had a signed indemnity from the actor saying that she was not to be contacted for a cheque of less than Rs 100,000/. The actor was grateful for Faysal Bank’s professional conduct and went on to make enquiries from her other
bank
. It appeared that her account at that worldwide multinational bank, in which she had deposited over
Rs 1 million
had been completely cleaned out without her knowledge. Upon further enquiry, it transpired that her domestic
staff, in collusion with a gang of thieves, had duplicate keys to her cupboard, stolen her cheque books, forged her signatures, presented them to the bank (which asked no questions) and withdrawn hundreds of thousands of rupees over a few months. When the actor asked to see photocopies of the cheques, it was obvious that the signatures were forged (her maid had had only 4 years of schooling). The actor asked the bank why she had never been called for confirmation – they had no written indemnity from her like Faysal Bank – they had no answers. Can’t bank on some banks, can you?
