Alice Coster: The bank statement that made my friend’s mum turn a ghastly shade of green

It all started innocently enough with some shopping after lunch in Melbourne. It wasn’t until later, when scrolling through her bank statement, that my friend’s mum turned a ghastly shade of green.

Like many cautionary tales it all started innocently enough after a long lunch in Melbourne.

One too many champagnes at city hotspot Gimlet, followed by some window shopping down the Paris end of Collins St.

It wasn’t until the next day later, when scrolling through her bank statement that my friend’s mum turned a ghastly shade of green.

While I might never be brave enough to step past security into a luxury boutique and swiping the debit card in fear of triggering alarm bells, we can all take a little something from what comes next.

With her old university friend in tow and feeling a tad reckless from the bubbles and ambience from Gimlet chef and owner Andrew McConnell at Cavendish House, my friend’s glamorous mum was popping in to design houses from Chanel to Louis Vuitton.

The day started well with lunch at Gimlet.

After inquiring about the price of a scarlet Taurillon leather, gold-hardware, cowhide-lined red Capucines Mini handbag (that would only just fit an iPhone, or lippy at best) she thought she heard the shop assistant reply, “945”.

Thinking she deserved to treat herself, and that she had just found herself a steal, she nodded her head and hey-presto there was a flurry of tissue paper and dustbags.

Feeling very doted upon all of a sudden, she signed the docket and left feeling triumphant and giddy, the receipt conveniently packed away out of sight.

The next day her stomach lurched, not from the French champagne but her bank statement, which read: “9945, or $9,945.00.”

She said she never heard the word thousand. A panic call to her friend confirmed they only heard “945”.

Window shoppers at the Paris end of Collins St. Picture: Ian Currie

It took a fair bit of persuasion and eye batting to get the refund back in full, and she is still feeling sheepish and a bit bruised from it all.

The story brought to mind Aussie cricket writer Peter Lalor a few years back who inadvertently found he had been charged for “the most expensive beer in history” in the UK while working on the Ashes series.

Having forgotten his reading glasses, he was presented with a bill and charged “$99,083.64 for a glass of Deuchars beer at the Malmaison Hotel in Manchester, again those pesky nine’s can get you.

“I didn’t have my reading glasses when (the bar attendant) presented me with a bill for the beer and when she had some problems with the machine, I didn’t think much of it,” Lalor posted. Only after the refund was back in his account of course.

Because there is a certain feeling of shame that comes with making such purchases. You feel duped and silly, because we all know we should know better.

The same feeling washed over me last week and brought me to a teary mess. Having scrimped and saved and pulled in the purse strings, I was feeling pleased with myself at topping up the bank account.

That was until, like my friend’s mum, I took a scroll through the suddenly diminished account with alarming results.

An unexpected charge on a bank statement is an unwelcome surprise.

Turns out a transcription service I had been paying a nominal subscription of $14.99 a month had just direct debited $237.56. Two more transactions then appeared and the wretched subscription was pulling random amounts from my account at will. Falling into a screaming heap I felt so ashamed at being duped. I knew I’d probably buggered it up myself, hitting YES on a whim and thinking to myself I’d cancel it within 30 days.

Having only just completed the in-house human resources course on scammers, fraud and not giving out personal information, I felt especially silly.

There is no longer a need to clutch and clasp at your bag in case someone tries to grab it while you are walking down the street.

What we really need to keep our eyes on is the technology, dodgy subscriptions and direct debits gobbledygook fine print.

I highly recommend going through your emails and bank statements and having a purge.

This is the second time this year I have had to cancel my bank card and start again because of fraudulent activity.

NAB, while very understanding and promising to reimburse the funds, said the only way to fix the issue is to cancel everything and start again, which is where I am today.

It can happen to the best or the worst of us. Even the most tech-savvy colleague at the office had a similar tale about an Airbnb site, er MisterBnB, charging him a monthly subscription for a year, even though he never finalised a booking through them.

So watch out, it’s happening everywhere and not just at the top end of Collins St.

Alice Coster is a Herald Sun columnist