Please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Seán Flynn. I'm 56 years old and I have been a front-line paramedic with the London Ambulance Service in the East End for the past seven years. It's a job I love and, by and large, it's the happiest I've been in a long and varied working life.
I am also an accredited GAA (Gaelic Athletic Association) coach with enhanced DBS clearance; both as a coach and as a registered clinician.
I recently travelled to the West Bank in order to coach three teams in the territory under the aegis of GAA Palestine, introducing the children to Gaelic football. I was lucky enough to travel first to South Bethlehem, then to the Al Am'ari Refugee Camp in Ramallah and then on to Qabatya in Jenin.
It's important to note at this point however that the individual with whom I was initially due to travel, pulled out on the morning of the trip as the result of a cancelled connecting flight; leaving me to fly out on my own.
As a consequence of his withdrawal, this person – who had, up that point, been the trip's chief organiser and holder of purse strings – forwarded monies to me that he had been given ahead of the trip by GAA Palestine to pay for our food, travel and accommodation as well as sports and multimedia equipment for our clubs.
There was nothing untoward or illegal in the contingency of one member of a group trip sending money forward to the person travelling in the event of their of their unforeseen withdrawal. It should also be noted that shortly after this trip, this same individual amicably concluded his involvement with GAA Palestine (a voluntary organisation).
My personal experience and that as a GAA coach in the Occupied Territories are stories for another day. (And hopefully to be recounted more vividly in happier times.)
My experience since coming back to the UK however has been a horse of a different colour.
It all started earlier this month (September) with an ostensibly innocuous text from my bank. I received it while I was at home in Mayo; having a nice lazy morning with lots of coffee and a fried breakfast by the fire.
I thought initially that it was the bank being anal about some scam or other but, knowing what arseholes they can be, I rang the number back just the same. After being kept on hold for a good 20 minutes – par for the course – I got through their identity verification shtick: again the usual, casually rude bollocks we've come to expect from banks. So far, so predictable.
That however was when things took a less likely turn. Once we got down to brass tacks, the first question I was asked was: 'What is your connection with Palestine?'
If I'm honest, once I heard that question, I found it incredibly difficult to keep a civil tongue in my head. I may at least have said something about dual UK/Israeli citizens going over to Gaza with the Israeli Army (taking part in an internationally recognised genocide) and coming home without any scrutiny of their financial details (but in perhaps more robust terms). I eventually gathered that they wanted me to provide written verification of the following:
A statement from that member of my organisation (GAA Palestine) who forwarded me funds when I had to travel out the West Bank alone. (Remember, at this point he no longer worked with GAA Palestine.)
[I was initially asked to account for expenditure in Palestine (for sporting and multimedia equipment) but they seem to have dropped that one from the final roster.]
I was also asked to provide my most recent payslip (London Ambulance Service has paid my wages into this account for seven years).
I was furthermore requested to provide a covering letter from my partner to whom I pay a standing order every month to cover rent and utilities (again, for the last seven years), explaining why this payment is being made.
All of this needed to be submitted by 21 September at risk of having my account frozen.
On the 15 September, a whole week before I was obliged - even by their own terms - to provide them with any information, I was furnished with a friendly phone call; enquiring whether or not I'd made any progress in my efforts to satisfy their evidential requests.
I was literally in the process of downloading their documents (which was nice, if not to say coincidental) when the call came through.
It should probably be pointed out that I've never been found guilty of even a minor crime of fraud or deception; yet I find myself subject to a deeply intrusive investigation on the part of my bank which has, from the outset, been based on my connection with Gaelic Games and Palestine. I am now literally being treated as a suspected terrorist by a bank that has unblinkingly facilitated all of my perfectly legal financial transactions for at least decade prior to my trip to Palestine.
Now, I had to ask my partner to verify why I'd paid for rent and utilities (a payment going through my account for seven years) and ask her to write a declaratory letter to that effect, again with a signature; I also had to provide a payslip for the employer that has paid my wages into this account for seven years.
I can happily provide this evidence but...to call it 'due diligence' when you harass a customer without any apparent knowledge of that customer's history, it comes across as either stupid or sinister.
The sticking point however was apparently proving to be an acceptable format of document for the requested letter from our friend who failed to show for the Palestine trip. He had, in fairness, sent me a PDF document on initial request – which I duly uploaded to the bank's document capture system on 15 September.
This document however did not have a signature on it, which apparently proved so problematic for the bank that they were prepared to freeze an account summarily. In my attempts to deal with this distasteful exercise on my bank's part, I had made several sustained efforts to stay in touch with the relevant individual regarding this issue since being first being harassed (excuse me, 'informed') by the bank.
I had requested and stressed on repeated occasions that he should add a signature to the letter. By the time however that he eventually re-sent that letter (again, sans signature), late on 20 September, I was forced to submit it on 21 September with an explanatory note. In my erstwhile colleague's defence, the updated letter did offer more detail on the 'suspect' transactions but that helps me little.
It's also probably worth noting that at no point have I received any formal written notification of this process; I've had generic info-request letters with a number to call but actual specific, granular requests for documentation appear to have been deliberately kept over the phone. Given that I was able to quickly determine on each call I made that previous conversations were being flagrantly misrepresented by the next minion I spoke to, the bank's male fides was becoming ever more apparent to me.
23 September
The upshot of it all on 23 September was that my bank account was restricted, I can now no longer access the money in my account: an account I've held with this bank for over a decade.
Once I got the happy news, I contacted the bank again at the indicated number. The information I had submitted was not being accepted because one of the letters lacked a signature. Below is an example of the kind of exchange I was dealing with:
Me: “So, just to be clear, you admit that you hold you no information on this individual, you have no signature on record against which to compare any acquired signature but my bank account is being restricted because, at the end of a letter, this person failed to produce an electronic representation of that signature?”
Bank minion:“Yes.”
Me: “And even though this person's letter has clear contact details and an offer to be contacted for clarification, the bank can't do that because he's not a customer?”
Bank minion:“Yes.”
This whole investigation began with the question, “What is your connection with Palestine?” and so far, it has led to my bank account being severely restricted. I can now no longer withdraw cash, honour direct debits or standing orders. I can no longer use my credit card. Apparently however, they are more than happy to continue accepting monies into my account.
I have payments due at the end of the month and it is unlikely now they will be honoured. I have cash and savings which I cannot access. So, while I have been making efforts to open another account, this will take time and I took the view that engaging and providing them with the format of document they required would make sense in the meantime. If nothing else, it offers the optics of compliance and this was now something I was able to do after our friend finally provided a PDF with his John Hancock.
So it seemed (as of 23 September) that a letter from this person with a signature would suffice. This information had been gleaned from yet another conversation with the same bunch of red-nosed, floppy-shoe-wearing, tiny-bike enthusiasts at the bank.
Despite being given a link to access the document upload portal; even while on the phone to one of said circus enthusiasts, I was unable to give them the document they required.
The solution to this farcical state of affairs was actually suggested by myself before being put on hold for several minutes while he went back to clown college for a quick symposium and it was this: I print the document I received, take it to my local branch where they scan it and then have it emailed to them from that local branch...
Just so you know folks: there'll be no money laundering at this bank unless you're really prepared to make it worth their while.
So now it's the end of 23 September, I have my nonsense printed up, let's see what tomorrow brings on this trip down the rabbit hole.
24 September
So...armed with my paper printout of the exact same letter with which they'd previously been provided...but this time with an unverifiable electronic signature (very important), I made my way from Deptford to Lewisham. Ordinarily, I would have considered taking the DLR or a bus but given that I cannot use my bank card to travel, I elected to walk the two and whatever miles it was; can't be wasting my limited cash on frivolous bus rides. Besides, it was a nice afternoon and, as my Mammy might say, the exercise did me good.
At the branch, it was sadly no surprise to see an old gentleman with nasal cannulas and a portable oxygen machine standing stoically in line to speak to an advisor. I could see customers trying to look out for him and I could also see 'floor staff' at the bank obviously overwhelmed.
After standing in line for about half an hour, I got to speak to a nice lady who was clearly flat-out. I explained my predicament and she did her best to expedite the situation. Not gonna lie, this little middle-aged white lady was visibly tearing up dealing with my problem and when she told me how sorry she was about this happening to me, I knew she was talking as a person and not a bank employee.
Requested document scanned; let's see if my compliance allows me access to my money. And that concludes another day down the Rabbit-Hole.
Japes aplenty again tomorrow no doubt...
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