Signing Contracts in Thailand

As I’ve mentioned frequently on the blog, I am moving house soon.  I went to my new apartment building today to pay the deposit and first month’s rent and to sign the contract.

I was both surprised and pleased when I was presented with a contract written in English.

Something that I never thought about until I was presented with my first rental agreement back in April 2005 was that I now lived in a country where — more often than not — I wouldn’t be able to read the legal documents I was signing.

It was a crushing moment of realization for an anal-retentive, detail oriented, pedantic, obsessive compulsive control freak like myself.  On that day back in 2005 I didn’t know a word of Thai.  I couldn’t read any Thai script.  The five women behind the reception desk didn’t know 20 sentences of English between them.  I had to sign the contract blind or leave.

Fortunately the sum of money in question was negligible.  I was taking a 3 month rental on a cheap room in a cheap part of town.  The three months of rent were about equal to what I spent on Friday night in Sydney shooting pool and drinking beer, so I just winced and signed.

I never had any problem with that contract.

In fact, to date, I’ve never had any problems with any contract I’ve signed in Thailand.

My first employment contract was in English.  When I separated from that employer I was happy to walk away with a decent bag full of money and no hassles.

I’ve signed documentation to open two bank accounts, a credit card application, an application for web access to manage my bank accounts, telephone installation, cable TV, ADSL connection, two apartment leases and hundreds of documents related to visas and immigration all without understanding anything that I was signing.

It’s just practicality.  The phone company, the cable company and most landlords don’t translate their contracts into English in Thailand for the same reason Melbourne landlords don’t translate theirs into German or Arabic… it’s their fucking country and they don’t have to.

I am not a lawyer, and beyond some business law classes at university 30 years ago I don’t have any legal training.  But I could have been a contract lawyer; indeed, many people have said I should have been one.  It seems to be my gift — my calling.  At most companies I have worked for in my adulthood, sooner or later it became my official or unofficial duty to review contracts.  I could often argue with lawyers — ours or theirs — effectively.

I love to read and revise contracts.  The logical structure simply makes me feel pleased.  I revel in the details, and I feel a sense of triumph if I can spot and correct a weakness or drafting error.

So you can imagine what a dreadful experience it is for me to receive application forms, waivers, agreements and contracts in Thailand written in a language that I can only read at a first-grade level.  All those clauses and appendices just waiting to be reviewed and dealt with!  A gold mine of happiness denied me.

Each time I feel a sense of dread.  What am I signing?  What rights am I giving away?  What personal freedoms may be abridged based on my unknowing signature?

Each time I close my eyes, swallow my misgivings, and sign the damned paper.

Of course, each of these contracts has been of little consequence, and standard formats.  Credit cards, cable TV, telephone… I mean, it’s not like agreeing to be an underwriter of a syndicate to insure the World Trade Center, now, is it?

I’d like to think that if an issue of greater import came along — forming my own company or buying a house — that I would either get an English language contract or pay for trustworthy professional advice.  But even in America and Australia it was often difficult to distinguish good professional advice from bad professional advice, and translations are notoriously dicey situations.  I suspect that in Thailand the language of a Thai language contract would always hold a stronger position than the English translation.  I don’t know that for a fact… just a guess.  There will always be an element of trust or blind faith in legal dealings here in Thailand that I simply never had to face in farangland.

It’s not life-changing, but there is an element of stress involved that probably varies with your personality.  For me, the stress is probably on the high end of the scale.  It’s probably fair to say that before that fateful day in April 2005, I had never signed a contract that I hadn’t read in full.

But after nearly three years in Thailand I guess I have changed a bit.  Perhaps I have become ‘more Thai’.  I live here and enjoy the ’sabai sabai’ and ‘mai pen rai’ attitude of Thai culture, and I guess that can’t help but have an effect.

Today a landlord tried to make my day.  He handed me a five page English contract written in 9 point font.  I started to drool… after three long years — here was a contract I could devour!  Something to really sink my teeth into.

But after a moment the Thai voice in my head called out to me.  It’s Sunday and you’re finished work.  It’s a nice day out.  Anyway, how many contracts have you signed blind in the last three years?  If he’d handed you a Thai language contract you’d have signed without reading… why should you bother with this one.

I relaxed.  I picked up the pen and signed my name seven times.  Beyond that fact that it was a rental agreement I have no idea what it said.  I handed the man my first month’s rent and two-month deposit and received the key in return.

I suspect that that moment was a turning point in my life.  Typically if I sign up for a new website or load a software on my computer I copy the terms and conditions and save it in a file just in case.

Maybe, like going to sleep before midnight, it’s just another sign that I’m getting old.