The story will be told. Back in 1993 my great great grandmother Lisa’s birthday no less remarkable I opened an account.
Not simple, but special be targeted at children.
So when the granddaughter turns 18, she had received from her, Lizaveta Zakharova, a gift.
On account of the put 5 thousand rubles.
Say, in 93-m to year with the money you could buy a decent bike.
I don’t know, in those years I had other interests: immeasurable love to carry the cat by the tail, for example. Estessno about the contribution of the forgotten great-grandmother died when I was either in Junior or in high school.
Last year, fingering things during another move (my family and justify the name 100%), stumbled upon the cherished grey the little book. I had to go to the nearest BEAC, write down the statement on the search input.
Leave all contact and wait until you hear that call. But it wasn’t. Ended, 2015 began January 2016, followed by flying the rest of the winter, spring, half summer.
Decided to act independently: with the help of dear Yuliya Kozlovskaya found where to write it to remind myself.
And then spun: SMSes on the phone about the status of the application, the calls from the experts if you have additional questions, a couple of trips to the Bank.
The first revealed that all ancient accounts, was given a new 20 digit numbers, and to seek contribution should have them. Only the second hike was finally able to find out what I got from women Lisa.
Three thousand two hundred ninety rubles ninety-seven cents. For twenty-three years. Initially putting on five thousand rubles.
I’m talking about.
This story is not about savings, not about me or my wonderful great-grandmother Lisa. This story is about the state, more precisely, about its relationship to its citizens.
You know, I don’t need the Crimea and a bridge to it, I don’t need a military operation in the Syrian Arab Republic.
I just want to live with the confidence that dtsat years my great-grandchildren in the majority will receive long-deceased great-grandmother’s hanky bike.
