Monday, June 23, 2008
It was with some surprise that Harold received a personal visit from Albert Wainwright, his personal banker. He opened the blinds in his office and showed the man in.
“It’s about your accounts,” said Mr. Wainwright, taking a large sheaf of papers from an overstuffed briefcase. “There’s a slight problem with them.”
“Really?” Harold logged onto the bank website and pulled up his personal, savings and business accounts on separate tabs. “I don’t see why,” he said. “They all seem to be quite healthy, though the shop is barely turning a profit.”
“That’s the thing,” said Mr. Wainwright. “It’s attracting a business surplus charge and almost two hundred pounds a year. If you were to invest a further fifty thousand into the account, we could set you on the lower rate, saving you almost fifty pounds a year in charges.”
Harold did some calculations. “Since the sum would drop my personal account below the top tier threshold, I would lose several hundred in compound interest. It would save the bank money, but not me. Was there anything else you needed?”
Albert sighed and picked up his bowler hat, turning it round and round in his hands. “Would you tell me the secret of your rags-to-riches success? I’d sell my soul to be as lucky as you.”
“Funnily enough,” said Harold, “I can. Let me just get my colleague, Mr. Jasfoup.”