Misplacing vital documents can cause untold panic and anxiety especially if the documents have to do with financial matters. SIMON MWALE reports on a recent incident that happened to him. Find out…

IF my automated teller machine (ATM) bank card was a person, it would have been between jobs from September, 2015 to January, 2016. It would have lost a job and been looking for another. What are you on about? I hear you ask. Well, between those months I lost and had to replace my ATM card. The card I had been using before September, 2015 started to malfunction; proof being failed transactions each time I wanted to make a withdrawal from my account. My bank withdrawals aren’t anything to talk about and that’s why I needed another card like yesterday! And so I decided to go and inform my bank about my hiccup. In September, 2015, or thereabouts, I’d obtained a replacement for my previous card which was malfunctioning. Each time it was inserted into the machine, it couldn’t be read. It was this replacement card which, in its sad turn, also got lost in January 2016 and needed replacement. What led to its loss was that one evening, my wife wanted to deposit some money into her account, but her ATM card wasn’t working properly. She could not easily access the money. Could she, therefore, use my account? Naturally, I’d no objection and after depositing using Xapit, she wanted to buy some groceries from a nearby shop. The shop has a swiping facility and we used my card to transact. After finishing our business at the shop, we went back home. About three days later, I asked my wife to give me back my ATM card so that I could use it, but she said she’d given it to me at the shop. I was sure she hadn’t given it to me. “Here is my wallet where I always keep my ATM card. It’s not there,” I said to her. This led to a wide search of every nook and cranny in our home, particularly in our bedroom, but the card could not be found. We searched in jacket pockets, clothes, dressing table drawers, the bedroom desk (which serves as my office), books and even the most unlikely of places – washing baskets – but to no avail. Where did the card go? My wife even went to ask the teller at the shop who’d served us whether she’d seen the card. My wife was told there were other customers who had left their cards after swiping and was shown a card left by a customer- but it wasn’t mine. That was when we lost hope and declared the ATM card lost and I had to go and report to my bank for a replacement. But before going to the bank, I ensured to obtain a police report, a prerequisite with most banks before the card can be replaced. Or so I thought! At the police post near my locality, I greeted the two police officers on duty in their office. “Happy New Year to you, officers,” I began. “Thank you and happy New Year to you, too, sir,” they answered in unison. “How may we help you?” asked the female officer near me. “I would like to obtain a police report. I lost my ATM card,” I said. “That will cost you K54.00,” the man on the far side said. “It’s gone up now? The last time I got a police report it cost only K20.00,” I said, without stating when, not that it would matter. I only had K50.00 on me. Mind you, this was on January 3, 2016, and the after effects of the pre and post festive season spending were still fresh. I told the officers that I would have to go back home and fetch more money (but far be the thought that there was more there!) to make the correct amount. I said this suspecting there may be no need to do so if what I had heard about police behaviour in such situations was anything to go by. And the possibility of walking away with the police report needed no stress or panic on my part because, as if he read my mind, the male officer said: “How much do you have, sir?” There! I muttered to myself inwardly, exactly what I had anticipated. “I have only K30.00, sir,” I under declared, sure that no receipt was likely to be issued to me and saw no need to disclose the full and correct amount on me. The lady near me looked for a piece of paper from the occurrence book and said, “That will be fine!” Having paid, I pretended to wait for a ‘receipt’, but was quickly motioned to leave. “Yes, of course, and thank you very much officers for your help. Enjoy your working day,” I said as I walked out. A bit of patience and no stress produces results with our cops. But as I walked to my vehicle, I began to wonder who started this sort of behaviour that is a catalyst for promoting corruption. Here I was, in need of help, but so were my helpers, the police who, I reckoned, would much rather pocket the K30.00 than receive and issue a receipt for K54.00 to go into Government coffers. I also wondered how much the police make per day from people who found themselves in situations like mine. Assuming 50 people passed through, that’s a cool K1,500. Not a lot of money, but enough to buy lots of loaves of bread for their families! Anyway, some things are better left unsaid. And so armed with the report, I drove to my bank in town. There, after explaining my situation, a customer service officer advised me to fill out a form. The procedure is very simple; fill out the form and, in most cases, a replacement is issued the same day. But when I completed the formalities, the officer informed me to come after two days. I told him there was a cost for me to make two trips to get my ATM card replaced. I asked why he couldn’t issue it the same day like they always did, but he said the cards were out of stock. I didn’t want to buy the young officer’s story because, from experience, sometimes the truth is not pure. So I decided to see whether a certain lady I knew in the same bank could come to my rescue and enable me obtain the card the same day. After 10 minutes or so, the lady emerged from the backroom offices where she operates and after exchanging light banter, she talked to the young man about my case, but, contrary to my expectations, he confirmed that the cards had indeed ran out and I should come back as advised. Before I could leave the bank, I showed the young man my police report and, to my shock, he said it was not necessary! He told me all I needed to bring along with me when I returned was the card replacement form I had filled! “Why is the police report not necessary?” I thought I should know because the last time I obtained one to ease the process of securing a replacement ATM card. “We used to request customers to bring along a police report, but we stopped. But if you don’t mind, you can still bring the form along with the report,” he said. I thought about my visit to the police station and cursed under my breadth as to why it hadn’t occurred to me to visit my bank first to ascertain what documents were required for replacement of a lost ATM card. Anyway, I walked out satisfied that I’d not ‘enriched’ the police, even illegally. The day for me to return to the bank arrived. I went to the bathroom to take a bath before I could leave, but I noticed that the piece of bath soap was too small and it needed replacement. I went back to the bedroom, stooped to the bottom of one of the drawers where some toiletries are kept. I shuffled some plastic containers and collected a full piece of bath soap and was about to close the drawer when.. what did I see tucked away near the left corner? Something that looked like a business card at first? Picking up the ‘business card’, I noticed its light blue colour, the Zanaco logo and, more pleasantly, it was emblazoned with my name! This was the mysterious ATM card that had caused my wife and me near-sleepless nights! I looked for my mobile and immediately phoned my wife. “My dear,” I said, “Do you believe in miracles?” “Well, not really, but has any miracle happened?” “Yes, a big one! I can’t believe it and your ears won’t believe it, either!” “What has happened?” she sounded eager to know as such calls have been rare since we got married. “I have found my missing ATM card!” “Agh! Sure? Where did you find it?” I told her she had erroneously put it away along with the items we’d bought at the shop a few days ago. That’s how my trip to the bank was aborted. How one wished all objects were like our mobile phones which, when they get misplaced, can easily be located by dialing their numbers! NB: Contributions to this column, should be sent to The Editor, “It happened to me” P O Box 30394, Lusaka, email: tozletters@gmail.com or drop them off at any of our Times Printpak offices. Please note that it may take some time before articles are published; this is because they are published on a first-come-first-served basis. Don’t lose hope. Keep sending in your valuable contributions.