The kind of human being he is
We moved from the north to the outer west of London in 1995 into a house after a succession of flats, but still renting rather than buying. We'd blown the money he'd had handed to him when he left the public service, that fat redundancy cheque. Property prices were depressed but we were in no position to put down a deposit.
For a year I worked for the same company as him a very small, new privately owned business trying to get a piece of newfangled technology up and running in the aviation industry.
For the brilliant idea the greatest two obstacles to acceptance were the company's principals, but that only became clear as I spent some time on the inside. They had met inside Ford Open Prison for 'fraud' type crimes and were technically not involved in the running of the company. That did not mean they were without influence over day-to-day and even strategic questions.
After some months I gave up and took a job in the city while I sorted out where my career would be going. That was how I ended up at the Financial Services company where I sorted my head out and nearly sorted my life out.
I've recounted the sorry story of the shares ... gifted to us by his parents to be the basis of a 'nest egg' and squandered by him when his salary could not be stretched to cover his booze and fags budget.
There was also the savings put into a joint account but which either rather than both of us were required to sign on to effect a withdrawal. That was in a Halifax account which subsequently de-mutualised. As holders of a savings account with (well) above the minimum amount we would have been entitled to shares. I realised he'd emptied the account when the shares didn't come through.
We were briefly enthused by the idea of having our own allotment, a patch of ground within a communal area where we could grow fruits and vegetables. To help us his parents provided us with the funds in cash to put a shed on the site so that we would not have to drag equipment back and forth. That vanished and in the end they simply went out and purchased the shed itself (and then helped us put it up).
After we moved here I discovered that in the dying days of his time with the public service, when he supposedly was helping sort files for archiving at the PRO he lifted a document he found; a document he subsequently sold through Phillips, the auction house for £2,000. He wasn't ripping me off with that one, just the entire British nation.
Years later when The Other Matter was coming to a head, just before I was promoted to Manager and achieved a measure of financial safety, I discovered the hard way that he had helped himself to the entire and supposedly well hidden stash of cash I had painstakingly accumulated through the lean years against a boiler or cistern failing and us having to call in an emergency plumber.
The worst moment though was finding the documents relating to the savings account his parents had established in my daughter's name. They'd placed a four figure sum in it to mature over the years and be available for her around the time she would, we all expect, head off to university. This account, on my advice, required both our signatures. He'd typed up a letter and forged my signature in order to help himself to his daughter's nest egg.
That's the kind of human being he is.
For a year I worked for the same company as him a very small, new privately owned business trying to get a piece of newfangled technology up and running in the aviation industry.
For the brilliant idea the greatest two obstacles to acceptance were the company's principals, but that only became clear as I spent some time on the inside. They had met inside Ford Open Prison for 'fraud' type crimes and were technically not involved in the running of the company. That did not mean they were without influence over day-to-day and even strategic questions.
After some months I gave up and took a job in the city while I sorted out where my career would be going. That was how I ended up at the Financial Services company where I sorted my head out and nearly sorted my life out.
I've recounted the sorry story of the shares ... gifted to us by his parents to be the basis of a 'nest egg' and squandered by him when his salary could not be stretched to cover his booze and fags budget.
There was also the savings put into a joint account but which either rather than both of us were required to sign on to effect a withdrawal. That was in a Halifax account which subsequently de-mutualised. As holders of a savings account with (well) above the minimum amount we would have been entitled to shares. I realised he'd emptied the account when the shares didn't come through.
We were briefly enthused by the idea of having our own allotment, a patch of ground within a communal area where we could grow fruits and vegetables. To help us his parents provided us with the funds in cash to put a shed on the site so that we would not have to drag equipment back and forth. That vanished and in the end they simply went out and purchased the shed itself (and then helped us put it up).
After we moved here I discovered that in the dying days of his time with the public service, when he supposedly was helping sort files for archiving at the PRO he lifted a document he found; a document he subsequently sold through Phillips, the auction house for £2,000. He wasn't ripping me off with that one, just the entire British nation.
Years later when The Other Matter was coming to a head, just before I was promoted to Manager and achieved a measure of financial safety, I discovered the hard way that he had helped himself to the entire and supposedly well hidden stash of cash I had painstakingly accumulated through the lean years against a boiler or cistern failing and us having to call in an emergency plumber.
The worst moment though was finding the documents relating to the savings account his parents had established in my daughter's name. They'd placed a four figure sum in it to mature over the years and be available for her around the time she would, we all expect, head off to university. This account, on my advice, required both our signatures. He'd typed up a letter and forged my signature in order to help himself to his daughter's nest egg.
That's the kind of human being he is.
posted by Enyo @ 9:27 pm
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