Bank adventures
This week I had the joy of setting up a bank account in a place where I don't speak the language. This is not recommended. I went into the bank and found what looked like the part of the bank with people who could open an account. I indicated to the group of people waiting that I wanted to be in line, and we somehow worked out a queue, which was mostly ignored anyway. After about 20 min of waiting, a spot opened up, and there was much jostling for who got to talk to the woman behind the desk. Somehow she indicated to me that I needed to see the woman at the next desk over, so I returned to the 'queue'. After another 20 min of waiting, there was another discussion of who's turn it was, and the woman behind the desk indicated that I needed to see the woman in the next desk over. (are you sensing a pattern here?) After 20 min of discussion, I managed to jostle my way to the front, and the woman behind the desk smiled, said she didn't speak english, and pointed to the last desk in the row. Afte only 20 more minutes, and what seemed to be a civil discussion in 3 different languages about who was next, I finally asked about setting up an account.
This is where the language barrier really became key. Apparently, Israeli banks require that you sign each of 100 pages of contract before they will let you open an account. And they're in hebrew. i asked for english, and the woman said something, indicating that I should just sign. Then she answered her cell phone and disappeared for about 10 minutes. After that, and after I'd signed about 10 pages, she handed me another copy of the contract in english and threw out the hebrew one's I'd signed. Those of you who've had to deal with sending a gazillion thank you notes for wedding, or graduation, etc. will appreciate it when I say that after about 35 signatures, my hand hurt, and my signature started looking like it was written in hebrew, with bad handwriting. I haven't written that much by hand since I learned how to type in 7th grade, and all of it was my name. After all of this, I was asked to produce my passport, and another photo ID. Since I've been accumulating drivers licenses from different continents, this was not much of a problem, though she did look at me funny when I produced my UW Madison student ID, which has been falling apart since 1998 (pride wouldn't let me replace it until after graduating, and I've had no reason to since). She then told me to come back in 3 working days to get my checkbook and debit card.
So, after just under 2 hours, I had a bank account, and was able to take a number and wait in line to deposit my paycheck. This was surprisingly easy (except for endorsing it - my hand was still terminally cramped). When I asked for some cash (to pay for my bus ticket home), they said, "no. come back in 3 days." It's a good thing the UW credit union still likes me.
The next day, I got a phone call from the bank. They'd lost the copies of my ID's and could I please fax them another copy. And it would now be another 3 days before I could get any money, checks, or debit card. In the meantime, the folks who had let me have the nice new apartment were asking about rent. "3 days," I said. They were not nearly as cheerful about that as the bank tellers were.
I still don't know what the 35 pages of hebrew I signed were all about. I tried reading the english version and fell asleep (call it jetlag). If you don't have to, I'd really recommend not opening a bank account here.
This is where the language barrier really became key. Apparently, Israeli banks require that you sign each of 100 pages of contract before they will let you open an account. And they're in hebrew. i asked for english, and the woman said something, indicating that I should just sign. Then she answered her cell phone and disappeared for about 10 minutes. After that, and after I'd signed about 10 pages, she handed me another copy of the contract in english and threw out the hebrew one's I'd signed. Those of you who've had to deal with sending a gazillion thank you notes for wedding, or graduation, etc. will appreciate it when I say that after about 35 signatures, my hand hurt, and my signature started looking like it was written in hebrew, with bad handwriting. I haven't written that much by hand since I learned how to type in 7th grade, and all of it was my name. After all of this, I was asked to produce my passport, and another photo ID. Since I've been accumulating drivers licenses from different continents, this was not much of a problem, though she did look at me funny when I produced my UW Madison student ID, which has been falling apart since 1998 (pride wouldn't let me replace it until after graduating, and I've had no reason to since). She then told me to come back in 3 working days to get my checkbook and debit card.
So, after just under 2 hours, I had a bank account, and was able to take a number and wait in line to deposit my paycheck. This was surprisingly easy (except for endorsing it - my hand was still terminally cramped). When I asked for some cash (to pay for my bus ticket home), they said, "no. come back in 3 days." It's a good thing the UW credit union still likes me.
The next day, I got a phone call from the bank. They'd lost the copies of my ID's and could I please fax them another copy. And it would now be another 3 days before I could get any money, checks, or debit card. In the meantime, the folks who had let me have the nice new apartment were asking about rent. "3 days," I said. They were not nearly as cheerful about that as the bank tellers were.
I still don't know what the 35 pages of hebrew I signed were all about. I tried reading the english version and fell asleep (call it jetlag). If you don't have to, I'd really recommend not opening a bank account here.
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