Twenty Six Doors

Twenty six doors, that’s the number in my home which needed to be painted, both front and back, with two coats each, and that wasn’t including the front or back doors to our home either.  

I knew I was not the greatest fan of decorating, but after ending each day with my hands covered in white paint I began to detest it.

We had moved into our home the previous year after we bought it from the bank that had reposed it. The former owner decided to take his revenge by stripping the house of all its fixture and fittings. I mean everything. The carpets, all the internal doors, including the ones from the built in wardrobes, even the underlay went. The light switches had gone and the light sockets with their bulbs, and even the mantle piece. He even tried to flood out the building.

A lot of people think the banks get what they deserve when somebody does this, and I went along the same lines until we found out over the next eighteen months what a crook the previous owner was.

We found out from the various people he had been made bankrupt, owing hundreds of thousands and it was his second time. The worst thing was he was still trading, and was still using our new address to gain credit. It was bad enough when bailiffs turned up looking for the fifty thousand here that he owed, or w received the final demands for twenty thousand he owed there, but it hurt most when the small trader turned up, somebody who only recently started to trade with him. These poor people had given him a few thousand in credit, and now they came calling looking for him. I felt sorry for these small business men. I had been in their shoes once, and I know how dreadful it can feel plus how devastating it can be financialy when someone never pays up.

I have always paid my way. When times have been hard I still always paid my dues, paid my bills, paid my debts, (Banks please take note, us taxpayers will want our money back, and justice.)

The bloke was not just a crook in my eyes, he was a thief! Could I get the authorities to take notice, no I couldn’t. I informed the police of what he was doing, but they just said, “If you haven’t lost any money personally then no crime is being committed.”

I phoned the credit card companies when one of their red letters popped through my letter box, but would they take notice? No.

“Sorry sir, but unless you are the person named on the statement we have sent to your address we cannot speak to you!”

“Yes I know,” I would reply.  “But can’t you make a note that this guy doesn’t live here anymore and he is probably gaining credit from you, even after he has been made bankrupt.”

“Sorry sir, we can’t speak to you on this matter unless you are the person named on the statement.”

Month after month it went on and drove me around the bend, and in the end it did cost me money, because I had to pay to register on various computer data bases to stop the guy getting any more credit using my new address.

In fact he only really stopped this trick when I used the power of Facebook, but that is a story for Friday.