I have several accounts with Lloyds Bank both in Britain and on Channel Islands. Most important, my current account is with the Broad Street Branch in Reading, Berkshire, and this is where my British pensions are paid into each month. I can draw money from this account via automatic teller machines in Motovun and Zagreb by means of my Visa debit card. I was long aware of the card’s eventual expiration, which was the end of the last month or yesterday, and I expected to hear from the bank well in advance of the date. By the time the end of the month was nigh, I started getting anxious. And my anxiety grew and grew from day to day.

As my new card did not arrive by last Friday, August 28, I called Lloyds Bank. I hate the phone, but there was no way around it under the circumstances. I was told that the card was in the mail, and that it was supposed to reach me by August 25. I called yesterday again, but was informed that it was a public holiday in Britain. There was no way to talk to anyone. As the card did not arrive by today, a day past the expiration date, I called the bank one more time. This time I was told that the card had never been sent to me because Croatia was considered an “embargo” country. Ouch! Surprised out of my wits, I asked whether my new card could be sent to me via any company that delivers international mail, but I was told that this would not be possible. Cards cannot be sent to embargo countries by any means whatsoever.

The only suggestion the fellow on the other side of the line had was that I could change my address and have my card delivered to that address instead. For instance, this could be the address of a friend in Britain, who could then forward the card to me by mail. I explained that this would take quite some time and that I would be strapped for cash quite soon, but the fellow had nothing to say about my plight. Apparently, it was none of his business. I asked him to let me talk to his manager, but he said that his manager would not be able to do a thing for me, anyhow.

Having finished the call, I went to the Internet to see whether I could contact Lloyds Bank via electronic mail. Soon I found a customer service address and sent them a longish message about the silly situation in which I had found myself. I got an automatic answer soon afterwards in which many options were offered for further contact, but which had little to do with my case. So, I am still waiting for a reply, but I am pretty sure that it will be off the mark once again. With a sinking feeling in my heart, I am considering my options.

But I am amazed at Croatia’s dismal international status a quarter of a century after its independence. An embargo country! Over the years I have spent in Motovun, as well as Zagreb the last few years, it has been called many funny names, such as an “unreliable” country, for instance (“An Unreliable Country,” September 10, 2007). Companies like Amazon also called it a “banned” country (“A Banned Country,” March 26, 2008). Amazingly, the misery persists even though Croatia has been a member of the European Union since July 1, 2013. One way or another, it is still a pariah country in spite of the vaunted Union. And I am an innocent victim of Croatia’s many faults, including rampant corruption and organized crime that reach all the way to the top of the government hierarchy.

Addendum I (September 2, 2015)

So far, I have contacted all and sundry in Lloyds Bank both in Britain and on Channel Islands. I called all the numbers I could find on the Internet, and I sent many an electronic-mail message to relevant offices. My greatest hopes are with the bank’s costumer services, but I have also written to the bank’s chief executive officer, its club, and its foundation. I have been pleading for urgent help with everyone. In the meanwhile, I have gotten a few replies both by phone and by electronic mail. The solution is still up in the air, but it appears that the embargo is indeed in force with Lloyds Bank. I have learned that the bank has had so many problems with the Croatian postal system and several related institutions that it is not likely that the embargo will be lifted soon. The plot thickens for true.

Addendum II (December 7, 2015)

Almost two months ago, I got the final answer from Lloyds Bank, which was that I should change my address to a country that is not under embargo. In practical terms, my debit card could be sent to a friend of mine in Britain, for instance, and this friend could then send me the card at my own risk. If I wanted to complain against this decision, I was sent the information about the Financial Ombudsman Service in London. Eager to resolve this conundrum as soon as possible, I contacted this organization without delay. After a long wait, today I received their final answer, which was in support of the bank’s own suggestion. I could not believe my eyes, but the advice was abundantly clear. Now I have to find a friend in Britain who would be willing to go through all the motions on my behalf, and then I have to inform the bank of my new address. With some luck, my debit card will finally be on my way after a delay of five months at least. Alas, living in an embargo country can be loads of fun!

Addendum III (March 3, 2016)

Early this year, I asked Tommy Martinović, my cousin from London, to help me with Lloyds Bank. He agreed at once, and I informed the bank about my new address. Care of Tommy, I was in the loop again. Predictably, it took quite a while for all the required forms to be filled in and signed. In the end, Lloyds accepted my new address, but I had to remind them a couple of times that I was still waiting for my new debit card. At long last, Tommy sent me an electronic-mail message last night to the effect that the card had arrived. “Victory,” was his well-chosen subject line. Over the moon, I asked him to send it to me by ordinary mail, but to put it into a thin book or brochure, so that the card could not be felt by hand. He will send it to me to my beloved’s address in Zagreb, and I expect to have it in a week at most. Now we will see whether or not the embargo country’s postal service is reliable. And the risk is on my shoulders only. Fingers crossed.

Addendum IV (March 7, 2016)

Amazingly, the debit card arrived to my beloved’s address in this morning’s mail. The mail service, including its Croatian branch, works pretty well in good old Europe. I went to the nearest Automatic Teller Machine as soon as I pulled the card out of the envelope. And I got the cash I was asking for in a jiffy. Gosh! At long last, I am back in the loop for true. It took a bit more than six months, but the ordeal is finally over. Alleluia! Over the moon, I let my cousin know about the card’s arrival, and then I let my beloved know about it, as well. Once the jubilation subsided, though, my thoughts returned to the country under embargo. If it were a “normal” country, Croatia would not offer such merriment. Neither would it offer such misery in the meanwhile, of course. In the end, I had no idea whether to laugh or to cry. As ever, the best I could do was to write yet another addendum about it. The last one, too. Or so I most sincerely hope.