Gone are the days here in the backwaters of the Languedoc-Roussillon when we can trust our local bank manager to tell us the truth and act in our interests. To be more specific neither my wife nor I will ever trust Crédit Agricole Sud Mediterranée again. The lies, and lies by omission by which we were conned into putting all our savings at risk are incredible and still painful to recall.

I have held a current account with Crédit Agricole for the last 16 years. When I moved over here permanently in 2003 my wife and I transferred a substantial part of our savings to a deposit account (compte sur livret) with the same bank. Although the interest is a mere 2%, the capital was not at risk. Indeed, neither of us has ever risked any of our modest capital at any stage in our lives.

*quote1*Out of the blue one day in March 2006 our local bank manager, Madame F, whom we had known and met several times over the preceding three years, (she is actually styled a conseil analyste or financial adviser), summoned us to the bank “to discuss your deposit account.” When we arrived for the meeting at the appointed time she characteristically kept us waiting for half an hour before summoning us to her office. The bank was then just closing for the sacred 90-minute dinner break. (In these parts, the main meal of the day – le diner - is always at mid-day).

At the outset I had better make it clear that there was no language problem. Although our French is far from perfect, we have no trouble in understanding and being understood in face-to-face situations.

Apologising for the delay, she said she had been very busy, and that she had many other clients still to see about their deposit accounts. We did indeed notice on her desk a long list of other customers marked with a fluorescent yellow highlighter whom she was working through and ticking off.

“This meeting is just a formality,” she said. “As a matter of policy Crédit Agricole is converting all existing deposit accounts containing “une somme importante” (a substantial amount) to a new account called a Compte Titre.”
“What’s that?” asked my wife.
“It’s exactly the same as your deposit account except that you will get 4½% interest instead of the present 2%. Furthermore interest will be paid every 3 months instead of just once a year.”
“Is that all?”
“That is all. Would you mind signing this form to authorise the transfer?”
The form was headed DEMANDE D’OUVERTURE (request to open an account) and in the relevant box simply stated “change of deposit account to Compte Titre”.

That was it. There was no other written information, but we trusted her on the basis of 3 years’ acquaintance. Moreover we were used to English banks and building societies changing the names of their savings accounts. So we signed, kept a copy of the Demande and went to celebrate our rise in interest rate at the local brasserie. Though we were hardly pushing the boat out with its 11 euro Menu du Jour (wine and coffee included).

I let this matter rest for several weeks. Then in May I looked at our accounts on the relevant Internet page of Crédit Agricole Sud Mediterranée.

The accounts shown were incomprehensible. A small some of 300 euros had been left in the deposit account and the Compte Titre combined with this showed a shortfall of 600 euros on the money we had transferred. Furthermore the Compte Titre was subtitled Atout Vert Horizon, whatever that meant. It is virtually untranslatable but in fact (we soon discovered) turned out to be a portfolio of shares or unit trusts linked to the stock market and the CAC 40 - the French equivalent of the Dow Jones Index, the Financial Times Index, the Nikkei or the DAX.

And so started an endless series of faxes from me to the bank. My first one on 10 May was to Mme F expressing alarm at our loss of money. She rang back to say rather breathlessly “don’t worry, you haven’t lost a penny” and put the phone down again.

A week or so later our losses had risen to 1,450 euros. So I wrote to Head Office demanding an explanation and threatening to sue Crédit Agricole for soliciting business *quote2*through misrepresentation and under false pretences if our losses were not returned in full within 10 days.

Soon afterwards I received a substantial letter from Atout Vert Horizon stating that we had indeed bought a portfolio of shares that would be subject to the vagaries of the French Stock market and the CAC 40. Moreover they had also taken an “introductory commission” of 2½% (over 1,550 euros) from our account.

Ever more incensed and panic-stricken, I now bombarded the Director General in person (and all his relevant minions) with about 20 faxes, accusing Mme F of having sold us a portfolio of shares by lying, lying by omission, and misrepresentation … I even used the word escroquerie (“swindling”) which in my view it was.

Fairly soon afterwards things began to move in our direction. I received a call from the bank’s area manager Monsieur C (Mme F’s boss) requesting a meeting “to discuss your problem”.

“It’s your problem also I assure you” I rejoindered.

*sidebar1*Because my wife was in England and I no longer drive, a meeting was arranged (time changed at the last minute) at our house. The area manager came with Mme F, whilst I had summoned the assistance of one of our neighbours, a retired French gendarme. He had read through all the correspondence and was appalled at the bank’s behaviour. As soon as the meeting began he proceeded to tear Monsieur C and Mme F apart. They were so alarmed by the ferocity of this attack that they threatened to walk out of the meeting – but they didn’t.

I pointed out that I had asked several of our very supportive fellow villagers, including our local vet, if they knew what a Compte Titre was. None of them had a clue apart from my obliging gendarme.

The upshot of this meeting was that I withdrew the term escroquerie (which has legally slanderous overtones) but said I still stood by all my other accusations as my grounds for legal action. My legal vocabulary was getting quite good by this time: prétextes fallacieux (false pretences), présentation déformée (misrepresentation), mensonges (lies), mensonges par omission …

It became clear that Monsieur C did not want me to take any legal action and that he might well “find a solution” to the problem. So I said I would give them a week to sort it out, otherwise I was going to a highly recommended solicitor.

On the seventh day I received a call from Monsieur C saying that my folder was with the bank’s legal department. My wife (now returned) and I went ahead with a meeting with the recommended solicitor. He said he couldn’t help – we would have to go to a barrister to fight the case in court. But then he kindly asked to see all the paperwork for the transfer. I showed him the single sheet of paper, and, aghast, he said the Bank had no case to answer. They hadn’t fulfilled any of the essentials for such a transaction – full written details, a 7-day get-out clause etc etc.

As we arrived home in the afternoon, the phone rang. It was Monsieur C saying that he had “des très bonnes nouvelles” (very good news) for us. Our deposit account would be restored to where it was on the day of the transfer in March 2006 plus all the interest that would have accrued since then. Two days later we received a letter from the bank admitting that we had we had “not been in a position (en mesure) to weigh up the vagaries of the financial markets” and that full restitution of our account plus interest would be made.

Game set and match! Owing to sharp falls in share prices, the cost to bank in the end was well over 4,000 euros.

Finally I must mention that I met another Crédit Agricole customer (a French lady) who had been similarly conned by the same Mme F. (This customer happened to be a retired clerk of the solicitor we had consulted!) But rather than fight the bank she had cashed in her shares and written off her considerable losses.

Basil Howitt

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Subject: Living in France, Expat tales, Bank, Credit Agricole