More Adventures In Banking

Needless to say, I now check my bank account balance every morning. Today, I found two more fraudulent withdrawals: both from a Walmart store (no. 1184). What was curious is that they weren't checks (all of the stolen checks had a "stop payment" issued). Both fraudulent charges were marked "Walmart 1184 ecapurchase," dated October 6, and without check numbers.

Could they have been ATM withdrawals? My ATM card was not missing, and I had no reason to believe anyone had obtained my PIN. But there they were, two charges, one for $78.77 and one for $118.72.

Back to the bank. My new best friend, Marilynn the teller, a young woman from Cameroon, researched the debits from her computer and determined that they were ACH charges. "What is ACH?," the first site that comes up in a Google search asks. "The Automated Clearing House Network," it answers.

The ACH Network is a highly reliable and efficient nationwide batch-oriented electronic funds transfer system governed by the NACHA OPERATING RULES which provide for the interbank clearing of electronic payments for participating depository financial institutions. The Federal Reserve and Electronic Payments Network act as ACH Operators, central clearing facilities through which financial institutions transmit or receive ACH entries.

Have you ever made an in-store purchase by check, and have them run the check through a scanner and hand you your check back along with your receipt? If so, they used ACH. It scans your check, electronically queries your bank account to see if you have sufficient funds, and then credits those funds to the merchant's account. Your bank never sees the check, so a "stop payment" is meaningless. It's an electronic fund transfer. Your check, in essence, works more like an check card than an IOU.

Not that I ever shop there, but Marilynn told me that Walmart now uses ACH scanners. I suppose it speeds up transactions and lowers Walmart's operating costs. My thieves are now able to use my checks for merchandise despite my "stop payment."

I had no choice but to close the account altogether, and transfer my funds to a new account. This has me nervous, as I still have several outstanding, legitimate checks to the likes of my credit card companies and my mortgage holder. Marilynn said that the bank will "watch" for those checks, she wrote down their number and amounts, and they will make sure the charges go to my new account, but I am still concerned.

So now I've had my work week interrupted twice - today's bank visit was for over an hour - and I've only filed a "dispute" over the Walmart charges; the bank has not yet conceded that they were fraudulent. I've also now have to worry about getting a nasty-gram from Visa or my mortgage company about returned checks.

Oh, and here's the best of all: since the account is now closed, my checks are no good and my ATM card doesn't work, so effectively I have no access to my own money until the new checks and card arrive (at the bank - I'm not having them sent here again). The thieves seem to have better access to my money that I do.

So what happened to all my Zen feelings of equanimity and detachment that I expressed yesterday? They're still there - I can look at all these emotions and reactions with amusement and recognize "these things are not me. They arise out of conditions, and are impermanent and empty." In this post, I'm just expressing one side of my feelings; yesterday, I expressed the other side.

Investigative work: I learned on line that Walmart store no. 1184 is a Superstore in Stone Mountain, just outside of Atlanta, on Rockbridge Road. I know the area - it's pretty run-down, badly in need of some urban renewal. So my thieves are back from the Choctaw reservation in Mississippi and once again in Atlanta - perhaps they'll stop by my mailbox again and see if they can get lucky twice. I feel sorry for them: living a life in bottom-rung casinos and Walmart Superstores, sneaking around other people's mailboxes, looking over their shoulders as they cash checks or make purchases without identification. It's a sad life, they're living, and I wish that I could give them the moon.