Ever wondered why you never hear of anyone robbing a bank in Sinagpore?

Sarah started her MBA course at Nanyang Technology University last week and, as the first tranche of payments were due, she asked me to transfer some money from bank (UOB) to hers (HSBC).

After having some fun and games trying to get the transfer done via the telephone, I was advised by to go down in person to my bank.

So on Friday lunchtime, I strolled down the road to UOB. After only queuing for 15 minutes, I was in. Or, to be specific, I was at Cashier No. 6 – who had the biggest smile I had ever seen.

I duly explained to the person behind the jump that I needed to transfer some money to wife’s bank and passed her a note with all of Sarah’s bank details (e.g. account name, number, bank, etc).

The teller then started to fill in a form and, just as started to think about what to have for my lunch, she stopped and said ‘I’m sorry, Sir, but we’re UOB and your wife’s account is with HSBC’.

‘I know, ‘ replied yours truly. [You have to get up earlier than that to catch me out, I thought.]

‘Well, we could do a Telegraphic Transfer’ said the teller, helpfully.

‘And what will that cost me?’[See the comment above in square brackets.]

‘$15, sir.’

‘Sod that.’

‘Sorry, sir?’

‘It’s ok. I’ll pay it in myself. So can I just have the money in cash and I’ll go to HSBC.’

So with a pocket full of used notes in large denominations, I braved the 32 degree Celsius heat outside and strolled the 2km to HSBC. Once there, I took a ticket and waited for my turn.

There was an interesting programme on the plasma TV screen installed to keep all the queuing punters happy. It was in Chinese, but from the images being shown, it was all about some automated milking machine. And was pretty graphic. So much so, that after seeing yet another poor cow have her udders manhandled by robo-suck, I didn’t fancy lunch any more.

It wasn’t long before it was my turn to provide to be milked.

‘I’d like to put some money into my wife’s account, please’.

‘Certainly, sir’ replied the grinning cashier, who had the largest smile I had seen since the one down at UOB.

I dug out the cash and placed that in front of the cashier and then the note with all of Sarah’s bank details. The cashier picked up the note and started to enter details into her keyboard.

‘And how much are you depositing, sir?’

‘$10,000.’

‘And can I ask where did the money come from?’

‘From me’ said I. [She would have to get up even earlier than the UOB cashier to catch me out, I thought].

‘And where did you get the money from sir?’

‘My bank.’ And with that, I showed her the receipt from UOB.

‘Thank you ‘ replied Smiley.’ I just need to know what will your wife do with the money?’

‘Jesus!’

‘Sorry?’

‘Err for savings and spending’ I said. [I was worried that if I had mentioned the MBA course, that I would have been there all day]

‘Thank you, sir,’ she said. ‘I will just need to seek authorisation from my supervisor’. And, leaving all of the money untouched, she disappeared into an office at the back.

[Now, I know that I may have looked a bit hot and sweaty (it was 32 degrees outside) and I did have bundle of cash (with a receipt from my bank) – but what did she need authorisation for? To accept used notes from a dodgy-looking customer, whose shirt was dripping in sweat?]

After about 5 minutes, she reappeared and said that she had been given permission to bank the cash. She counted the money, gave me a receipt and I was on my way back to the office.

No wonder you never hear of bank robberies in Singapore. For if it’s that difficult to put money into a bank, just how imagine how hard it to steal it!

Gerry Kane R.I.P.

A very good pal, Gerry Kane, passed away last weekend. He was only thirty-eight.

Thankfully I got to see him on the day before he passed away. It's so hard to say goodbye to someone knowing that you'll never get to see them again. Especially to someone so young.

But Gerry was unbelievable. Happy, chatting and cracking jokes with everyone.

He was even strong enough to hang on until his family flew in from Perth at 6am last Saturday, before he passed away at 2pm.

Even at 1pm he was still sending texts to people. Could you do that? 60 minutes before you met your maker?

Gerry Kane: Loving husband, property and investment guru, (professional) golfer, bullshit artiste and damn good bloke!

A service was held for Gerry last Monday and you can see that by clicking here.