Never Do Business With A Russian. Seriously.

We're NOT saying Hitler had any good ideas. But if he did, Operation Barbarossa was one of them.

We’re not saying Hitler had any good ideas. But if he did, Operation Barbarossa was one of them.

 

A shot of our own medicine? Make it a double.

We’ve repeatedly mentioned the wisdom of buying, selling, and even window shopping on eBay, just to get a legitimate and unbiased idea of what your previously enjoyed wicker stool or T206 Honus Wagner card is worth. (For the latter, $500. We’ll even hand-deliver payment if you want.) We’ve also warned you to take precautions, using only PayPal for payments and not selling to anyone outside the United States. Or at least, outside the United States and Canada, assuming you’re OK with filling out a customs form or two. Or at least, outside the U.S., Canada, Australia, New Zealand, and Western Europe.

Go ahead, tell us we’re idiots. We deserve it. We got greedy and got defrauded.

A couple of months ago we sold an iPhone 4S, functional but with a giant crack down its back, for $265. Our account specifies that we only do business within the United States, but the high bidder was a crook named Pavel Saltykov, user name sapavel, mario291@bk.ru, who lives or at any rate has an address on Rural Bogorodskaya, 19B 6, in Ufa, Bashkortostan. We could have refused his bid, but were feeling foolishly charitable of heart (that was our first mistake) and noted that he’d included more than enough to take care of shipping and duties, so we figured what the hell; let’s increase the level of international amity between former enemies by just a smidgen.

Now, as far as we’re concerned, the Cold War is back on. Reagan should’ve nuked them when he had the chance.

We’re not huge eBayers, maybe one transaction every couple of months. After Mr. Saltykov’s prompt payment we went to the post office, insured the package, got a customs form, kept copies of everything, etc. Mailed the iPhone out November 4. Two months passed and we never heard anything, so we figured everything was fine.

A fortnight ago, we received  an email telling us the eBay account was in danger of suspension. Naturally, the initial reaction was “Spam. Come on, this is easy.” But the email didn’t look like spam, all its words were spelled correctly, and the return email address checked out as an eBay.com domain. A quick login to the eBay account showed that the Russian buyer did indeed open a complaint.

He opened it on Christmas Day. Sorry for not checking our eBay account every day in the event that someone files a claim without our knowledge (and for spending the day celebrating a little event called the birth of Christ, instead of being godless Commie heathens.) It bears mentioning that Saltykov never once tried to contact us directly, which eBay itself lists as its first recommended means of resolution. He just went straight to eBay. Our account showed that once he opened the claim on Christmas, we hadn’t responded in the allotted 7-day window. Granted, that was difficult to do, given that we didn’t know that a claim had been filed, let alone that the clock had started ticking. Excluding the most recent piece of correspondence, the email that we thought was spam, every word of this (extremely unilateral) conversation was in the form of eBay messages – which we’d only have seen if we’d happened to have logged into our account. Given that we had no items for sale, and weren’t shopping for anything, we had no reason to peruse our account; nor to see that we’d neglected to defend ourselves against a grievance that we never knew had been filed.

Only that day did eBay send us an email, rather than an internal message, saying in so many words, “We paid the guy on your behalf, now you owe us.”

Which prompted us to pick up the phone, given that eBay wasn’t letting us send an email (or even one of their stupid internal messages) with regard to this case. We called and said in considerably more polite terms than were justified that they had to be fricking kidding us, telling us that we now owed close to $300. Their email even included the ominous phrase “case closed.” The representative we talked to said, “Thanks for the proof that you sent it. But we don’t have proof that it was delivered.” Well excuse us for not being Russian Post.

So we tracked the package on the U.S. Postal Service’s site. The last thing they know, the iPhone was at an international holding facility in Los Angeles. A look at the publicly available tracking data for the package told us as much. Keep in mind, this is now more than 2 months since we mailed the damn thing. We called to find out where it is, the USPS opened up a case, and the representative said, “You know, you really should have opened your claim within 30 days.” We gritted our teeth and kept quiet. She said to give it 3 weeks, at which point we should have heard from either someone on the American side or the Russian side. She mentioned something about possible reimbursement, and seemed sincere.

If either postal service reimburses us, we had agreed to reimburse eBay. It seemed like the American thing to do. HOWEVER…

The reason eBay even demanded payment in the first place, rather than just forcibly removing it from us, is that the PayPal account linked to our eBay account had a zero balance. Blood from a stone, etc. A couple of days ago we received a PayPal deposit for an unrelated transaction, thus we had a positive balance. At that point eBay (with PayPal’s approval, seeing as the one is a subsidiary of the other) just up and took our money.

Takeaways:

  • A Russian can claim never to have received a package, and somehow that’s the fault of the American sender. Not to sound xenophobic here, but does a Russian eBay rookie with minimal transactions get the benefit of the doubt over a 12-year member with a 99% rating, from eBay’s home country no less?
  • eBay serves not only as judge, jury, and executioner, but also as plaintiff’s attorney, collection agency, and bounty hunter. With PayPal as its trusty deputy.
Recommendations:
  • Use Amazon instead. Or Craigslist, even.
  • Never do business with a Russian.

LIBOR Scandal? Boy, That Sounds Like A Gripping Topic To Read About

 

Not again

 

This dwarfs by orders of magnitude any financial scam in the history of markets. 

-Andrew Lo, MIT professor, hedge-fund oracle, and a man who understands that an academic can make the Time 100 list only if he makes outspoken, authoritative pronouncements.

Alright, what the hell is he talking about?

It surfaced about a week ago, a scandal by which we all end up paying a few basis points extra on our mortgages.

LIBOR. The London Interbank Offered Rate, whose acronym incorporates a medial letter and thus avoids being an apt homonym for “liar.” It serves as a starting point for short-term interest rates, and it changes (rarely by more than a basis point) daily.

Every morning at 11:00, the LIBOR is released by the British Bankers’ Association. Which is a consortium – a trade association, if you will – of 199 banks. If your bank is one of the largest in the world, it’s probably on the list. Which is here.

There are actually multiple LIBORs: they’re measured for each of 10 currencies (pound sterling; euro, long may it wave; American, Australian, Canadian and New Zealand dollars; yen, Swiss franc, Danish krone, Swedish krona.)

Each of those is submitted for each of 15 borrowing periods (overnight, 1 week, 2 week, and every number of months from 1 to 12.) That gives us 150 rates, the most widely quoted one being the 3-month rate for the pound sterling.

This morning that rate sat at .79%, the lowest it’s been since last February. They post it on Twitter @BBALIBOR.

How is LIBOR different than the federal funds rate that Ben Bernanke decrees? First, LIBOR is announced daily as opposed to every few weeks. Second, the federal funds rate is more or less mandated artificially. LIBOR is established via the market and then reported, rather than the other (i.e. Soviet) way around.

It’s straightforward, or ought to be. Every morning the BBA (via its vendor, Thomson Reuters) begins with the 199 rates its members charge for overnight loans and lists them in numerical order. It discards the top 50 and the bottom 50, then averages the remaining 99.

With 199 components, how can the LIBOR be subject to skullduggery? One crooked bank, or even 50, can only do so much damage, right?

Here’s the problem. From BBALIBOR.com:

Every contributor bank is asked to base their BBALIBOR submissions on the following question:

“At what rate could you borrow funds, were you to do so by asking for and then accepting inter-bank offers in a reasonable market size just prior to 11 am?”

So take back what we said earlier. The rates aren’t generated via market transactions. They’re generated via whatever’s going through the head of the bank representative who’s tasked with answering the question.

It gets worse. One paragraph later:

BBALIBOR is not necessarily based on actual transactions

Up until a few years ago, college football named its champion by saying to a bunch of coaches and sportswriters, “Forget about determining a champion on the field. Who do you think the champion should be?” BBA is doing the same thing.

Wait, here’s the funniest excerpt of all:

Each morning between 1100 and 1110 a named individual responsible for cash management at each panel bank formulates their own rates for the day and inputs them into this application, which links directly to a rate setting team at Thomson Reuters.  A bank cannot see other contributor rates during the submission window – this is only possible after final publication of the BBA LIBOR data.

  1. (Boldface ours)
  2. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

You know how you pay lower interest rates the better your credit is? And how all things being equal, you’d prefer to pay lower rates than higher ones, regardless of the strength of your credit? The same applies to big institutions, too. In 2008 Barclays – the 322-year-old British bank whose group chairman just happens to be the chairman emeritus of BBA – started submitting bogus low numbers for the daily calculation. Those numbers were still often as much as 60 basis points higher than the average from the other submitters. Barclays was admitting to being in bad shape, while being in even worse shape.

Then again, why shouldn’t Barclays have submitted fake numbers? There was no penalty for doing so, at least not in the short term, and at least not a huge one. Barclays benefitted by having people think it was rich and liquid. Lying about its numbers was the institutional equivalent of putting chrome rims on your Cadillac while living in the projects.

The then-chairman of the Federal Reserve Bank of New York knew that Barclays was being disingenuous. His emails with his counterpart at the Bank of England say as much. That regional Fed chairman chose to do nothing. A few months later, he became United States Secretary of the Treasury.

And we thought his predecessor was incompetent and crooked

If you have an adjustable-rate mortgage…first of all, why would you subject yourself to market whims like that? Especially when fixed rates are historically low? Oh, you couldn’t get a fixed-rate mortgage? Then maybe you shouldn’t be buying a house.

Or financing college. Student loans are often tied to LIBOR, too. You pay a going rate, plus whatever today’s LIBOR is. Plus a few basis points artificially tacked on by Barclays and its co-conspirators. Across the globe, that’s tens of billions of dollars extra.

But justice has prevailed. Barclays paid a $450 million fine. Or about 3 days’ worth of its revenue.

As with the provision of health care, the fewer intermediaries there are, the better. Some lenders set rates without respect to LIBOR. Those banks’ managers know enough about their own lending practices – what to charge, who’s going to default, how big their overhead is – to name their own prices without relying on an august body an ocean away. Do business with one of those lenders, and you’re exposing yourself to less risk. And saving money.