Confessions of a Shopaholic
Page 99
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What? What’s he saying?
“I see,” says Emma, nodding her head. “So, Luke, would you agree that—”
“Wait a minute!” I hear myself interrupting. “Just. . just wait a minute. Mr. Brandon, did you just call the investors greedy?”
“Not all,” says Luke. “But some, yes.”
I stare at him in disbelief, my skin prickling with outrage. An image of Janice and Martin comes into my mind — the sweetest, least greedy people in the world — and for a few moments I’m so angry, I can’t speak.
“The truth is, the majority of investors with Flagstaff Life have seen record returns over the last five years,” Luke’s continuing to Emma, who’s nodding intelligently. “And that’s what they should be concerned with. Good-quality investment. Not flash-in-the-pan windfalls. After all, Flagstaff Life was originally set up to provide—”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Luke,” I cut in, forcing myself to speak calmly. “Correct me if I’m wrong — but I believe Flagstaff Life was originally set up as a mutual company? For the mutual benefit of all its members. Not to benefit some at the expense of others.”
“Absolutely,” replies Luke without flickering. “But that doesn’t entitle every investor to a £20,000 windfall, does it?”
“Maybe not,” I say, my voice rising slightly. “But surely it entitles them to believe they won’t be misled by a company they’ve put their money with for fifteen years? Janice and Martin Webster trusted Flagstaff Life. They trusted the advice they were given. And look where that trust got them!”
“Investment is a game of luck,” says Luke blandly. “Sometimes you win—”
“It wasn’t luck!” I hear myself crying furiously. “Of course it wasn’t luck! Are you telling me it was compete coincidence that they were advised to switch their funds two weeks before the windfall announcements?”
“My clients were simply making available an offer that they believed would add value to their customers’ portfolios,” says Luke, giving me a tight smile. “They have assured me that they were simply wishing to benefit their customers. They have assured me that—”
“So you’re saying your clients are incompetent, then?” I retort. “You’re saying they had all the best intentions — but cocked it up?”
Luke’s eyes flash in anger and I feel a thrill of exhilaration.
“I fail to see—”
“Well, we could go on debating all day!” says Emma, shifting slightly on her seat. “But moving onto a slightly more—”
“Come on, Luke,” I say, cutting her off. “Come on. You can’t have it both ways.” I lean forward, ticking points off on my hand. “Either Flagstaff Life were incompetent, or they were deliberately trying to save money. Whichever it is, they’re in the wrong. The Websters were loyal customers and they should have gotten that money. In my opinion, Flagstaff Life deliberately encouraged them out of the with-profits fund to stop them receiving the windfall. I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
I look around for support and see Rory gazing blankly at me.
“It all sounds a bit technical for me,” he says with a little laugh. “Bit complicated.”
“OK, let’s put it another way,” I say quickly. “Let’s. .” I close my eyes, searching for inspiration. “Let’s. . suppose I’m in a clothes shop!” I open my eyes again. “I’m in a clothes shop, and I’ve chosen a wonderful cashmere Nicole Farhi coat. OK?”
“OK,” says Rory cautiously.
“I love Nicole Farhi!” says Emma, perking up. “Beautiful knitwear.”
“Exactly,” I say. “OK, so imagine I’m standing in the checkout queue, minding my own business, when a sales assistant comes up to me and says, ‘Why not buy this other coat instead? It’s better quality — and I’ll throw in a free bottle of perfume.’ I’ve got no reason to distrust the sales assistant, so I think, Wonderful, and I buy the other coat.”
“Right,” says Rory, nodding. “With you so far.”
“But when I get outside,” I say carefully, “I discover that this other coat isn’t Nicole Farhi and isn’t real cashmere. I go back in — and the shop won’t give me a refund.”
“You were ripped off!” exclaims Rory, as though he’s just discovered gravity.
“Exactly,” I say. “I was ripped off. And the point is, so were thousands of Flagstaff Life customers. They were persuaded out of their original choice of investment, into a fund which left them £20,000 worse off.” I pause, marshaling my thoughts. “Perhaps Flagstaff Life didn’t break the law. Perhaps they didn’t contravene any regulations. But there’s a natural justice in this world, and they didn’t just break that, they shattered it. Those customers deserved that windfall. They were loyal, long-standing customers, and they deserved it. And if you’re honest, Luke Brandon, you know they deserved it.”
“I see,” says Emma, nodding her head. “So, Luke, would you agree that—”
“Wait a minute!” I hear myself interrupting. “Just. . just wait a minute. Mr. Brandon, did you just call the investors greedy?”
“Not all,” says Luke. “But some, yes.”
I stare at him in disbelief, my skin prickling with outrage. An image of Janice and Martin comes into my mind — the sweetest, least greedy people in the world — and for a few moments I’m so angry, I can’t speak.
“The truth is, the majority of investors with Flagstaff Life have seen record returns over the last five years,” Luke’s continuing to Emma, who’s nodding intelligently. “And that’s what they should be concerned with. Good-quality investment. Not flash-in-the-pan windfalls. After all, Flagstaff Life was originally set up to provide—”
“Correct me if I’m wrong, Luke,” I cut in, forcing myself to speak calmly. “Correct me if I’m wrong — but I believe Flagstaff Life was originally set up as a mutual company? For the mutual benefit of all its members. Not to benefit some at the expense of others.”
“Absolutely,” replies Luke without flickering. “But that doesn’t entitle every investor to a £20,000 windfall, does it?”
“Maybe not,” I say, my voice rising slightly. “But surely it entitles them to believe they won’t be misled by a company they’ve put their money with for fifteen years? Janice and Martin Webster trusted Flagstaff Life. They trusted the advice they were given. And look where that trust got them!”
“Investment is a game of luck,” says Luke blandly. “Sometimes you win—”
“It wasn’t luck!” I hear myself crying furiously. “Of course it wasn’t luck! Are you telling me it was compete coincidence that they were advised to switch their funds two weeks before the windfall announcements?”
“My clients were simply making available an offer that they believed would add value to their customers’ portfolios,” says Luke, giving me a tight smile. “They have assured me that they were simply wishing to benefit their customers. They have assured me that—”
“So you’re saying your clients are incompetent, then?” I retort. “You’re saying they had all the best intentions — but cocked it up?”
Luke’s eyes flash in anger and I feel a thrill of exhilaration.
“I fail to see—”
“Well, we could go on debating all day!” says Emma, shifting slightly on her seat. “But moving onto a slightly more—”
“Come on, Luke,” I say, cutting her off. “Come on. You can’t have it both ways.” I lean forward, ticking points off on my hand. “Either Flagstaff Life were incompetent, or they were deliberately trying to save money. Whichever it is, they’re in the wrong. The Websters were loyal customers and they should have gotten that money. In my opinion, Flagstaff Life deliberately encouraged them out of the with-profits fund to stop them receiving the windfall. I mean, it’s obvious, isn’t it?”
I look around for support and see Rory gazing blankly at me.
“It all sounds a bit technical for me,” he says with a little laugh. “Bit complicated.”
“OK, let’s put it another way,” I say quickly. “Let’s. .” I close my eyes, searching for inspiration. “Let’s. . suppose I’m in a clothes shop!” I open my eyes again. “I’m in a clothes shop, and I’ve chosen a wonderful cashmere Nicole Farhi coat. OK?”
“OK,” says Rory cautiously.
“I love Nicole Farhi!” says Emma, perking up. “Beautiful knitwear.”
“Exactly,” I say. “OK, so imagine I’m standing in the checkout queue, minding my own business, when a sales assistant comes up to me and says, ‘Why not buy this other coat instead? It’s better quality — and I’ll throw in a free bottle of perfume.’ I’ve got no reason to distrust the sales assistant, so I think, Wonderful, and I buy the other coat.”
“Right,” says Rory, nodding. “With you so far.”
“But when I get outside,” I say carefully, “I discover that this other coat isn’t Nicole Farhi and isn’t real cashmere. I go back in — and the shop won’t give me a refund.”
“You were ripped off!” exclaims Rory, as though he’s just discovered gravity.
“Exactly,” I say. “I was ripped off. And the point is, so were thousands of Flagstaff Life customers. They were persuaded out of their original choice of investment, into a fund which left them £20,000 worse off.” I pause, marshaling my thoughts. “Perhaps Flagstaff Life didn’t break the law. Perhaps they didn’t contravene any regulations. But there’s a natural justice in this world, and they didn’t just break that, they shattered it. Those customers deserved that windfall. They were loyal, long-standing customers, and they deserved it. And if you’re honest, Luke Brandon, you know they deserved it.”
