A ‘ticket inspector’ stole my wallet, then cleaned out my back account

February 3, 2026 — 5:00am

I felt like an idiot. In all the years of travel, I’ve never had anything stolen. Until I met one of Venice’s infamous pickpockets. He didn’t just take my wallet, he cleaned out my bank account.

Last December, I made a fleeting visit to Venice, staying in a hotel on the Riva degli Schiavoni, the waterfront promenade on which St Mark’s Square sits.

There weren’t many tourists at that time of the year, so I wasn’t thinking about pickpockets. In any case, my wallet was firmly zipped inside my cross-body satchel and there were two buckles securing it.

On my last two visits to Venice, I’d planned to see the costume museum, Palazzo Mocenigo, but I always managed to get lost. This time, I figured out that the vaporetto (water bus) could take me directly from Arsenale, the stop near my hotel, to San Stae near the museum. I was determined to get there. I never did.

First, I needed a ticket. There was a machine at the stop. After hitting some buttons and swiping my card, a ticket spat out. I didn’t look at it too closely, which was my first error.

The stations always have two pontoons for water buses going in different directions. I’d figured out my water bus would go from the pontoon on the left, which would take me up the Grand Canal. But when I tried to go through the turnstile, my ticket was rejected.

There was a transport official in a dark coat and beanie standing at the other side of the turnstile. He suggested I try it again. When it didn’t work, he came around the other side of the turnstile to help me. There were few other people around.

He took me back to the ticket machine, explained the process, including entering my PIN, and the correct ticket came out. I realised I hadn’t entered my PIN the first time. The first “ticket” had been a receipt for an invalid transaction.

He asked me which stop I was going to and helpfully pointed me to the vaporetto pontoon to the right, even though I thought it was the left. But I’d been confused before.

I stood waiting for the vaporetto to arrive for a few minutes. Then I thought to check my bag because I knew I hadn’t zipped my wallet safely away. Of course, it was gone and so was the “ticket inspector.”

I didn’t know then, but I do know now, that I could have immediately gone to the bank app on my phone (luckily, he hadn’t stolen that as well) and blocked all my accounts.

Panic stricken, I went back to the hotel and logged into my bank account on my laptop. I could see the thief had access to both my accounts and was trying amounts of money until he’d cleared as much as possible, including emptying one of my accounts. It wasn’t a fortune, but by mistake (a long story) I’d brought my identical-looking bank card as well as the debit card I usually only carry overseas.

The thief had my driver’s licence, American Express card and several other forms of identity. I was able to cancel the Amex card and get a digital one to replace it within 10 minutes. It took an hour to contact my bank and then another couple of long calls to report the fraudulent transactions. The digital cards they sent me were useful, but I couldn’t use them for cash at ATMs.

I went to the police station around the corner to report the theft. It was mid-morning and there were two other couples who had been robbed. A female officer told me not to feel stupid, the thieves were very clever. The police prepared at least 15 reports of pickpockets a day, she said.

My mistake was that I was too trusting. The thief really did seem like a ticket inspector, even though such people aren’t usually stationed at automatic gates. I didn’t think to conceal my PIN, although he was standing a metre or so away.

I shouldn’t have travelled with my bank card but he took advantage of me being slightly flustered. I remind myself I need to be more wary in moments like these when you are far more vulnerable.

In the end, the bank quickly reimbursed me the money that had been stolen (a nice surprise) and I now have my ID back with new numbers and PINs.

I lost a couple of old photos of my mother as a young woman visiting Paris, which makes me sad. And I certainly lost my complacency.