The Dreaded Errand

I’d been putting it off all year. You’ve seen my entries about being a “balla” in Beijing. Part of that is definitely the exchange rate/cost of living, but another part is that, unlike most of my colleagues, I haven’t transferred any money back home. Going to the bank is one of the worst experiences an Expat has to suffer through. Not only does no one speak a shred of English, but bank workers for some reason don’t even have the skills of mime that help me get by with all the waiters and shop owners. (Or, perhaps they know exactly what I’m trying to mime, but attempting to communicate with a mute is beneath them.) If that was enough, though, a simple translator could solve the problem.

The trickiest and most frustrating part of the bank experience in Beijing is that, much like traffic laws, banks seem to run on a day-by-day-mood-by-mood rule system that rarely is in an ex-pat’s favor. The worst part of the bank experience is that you need them so desperately. Anytime that an expat makes the dreaded errand that is going to the bank, it’s because they really need to get something done. Every time I go I shudder with flashbacks of first arriving, completely broke and having to go through the nightmare of trying to get my traveler’s cheques turned into RMB. Now I needed the opposite, trying to get my RMB back to my bank account in Bank of America.

I accept by now that the bank teller will decide based on his or her mood that day if my request will be granted. The first time my friend Roxanne went for a transfer, it went through with no problem. When she went back to the same branch a few months later, she was told that that branch did not complete this type of transaction. When she showed the slip of success from before, she was told it was a new policy. So she went to another branch. There she was told there was a transfer limit of 500 USD. She again showed her slip, and was told it was a new policy.

My friend Erica went to the same branch this week and was told she had to first transfer her money into a Chinese person’s account and then they could transfer it to America. Kelly went once with no problems; then the second time she was told it was impossible.

My first real improvement was going in with zero expectations. I brought my TA, L with me, just for good measure. We were first told to stand in one line, and then another. Then told to sit and wait for two different windows that were not calling out the type of number on our waiting ticket. Fine.

Then I was told I had to fill out the form again because it was in blue and not black ink. Ok.

I asked (through L) to have them make sure everything else was right. It’s a complicated form with ID numbers, phone numbers, account numbers, bank and personal addresses from here and America, and I didn’t want to fill it out again. I was told it was fine.
We waited, with no expectations, and L told me that the women Bank workers who had given me the second form were talking about me. “Just stop looking at her,” one of them had said, “you’ll never get to be like her.” Then they told L, “Just tell her that we’re jealous of her.”

I may have dressed in a pinstriped skirt, hoping that looking more like a professional and less like a teenager in jeans would help me. Still, this took me by total surprise, as I joked with L, I’m a second grade teacher. Oh the glamour!
We were finally called to The Window, and I handed all of my documents, passport, card, etc. over for judgment. Lucikly, L lied and said we’d done this before, and things seemed to be going well. I saw the red rubber stamp of approval hovering in the air and dared to imagine my request would be granted. Then she stopped and handed me my form again. My name was in the wrong place, and I was to leave Bank of Beijing out of the spot for Bank Name. (Sure, third time’s a charm.)

I sat at the window for 25 minutes, sweating and telling myself over and over again that it was ok if it didn’t work. Then, 250 deep breaths later, I was handed all of my things, covered in red stamps. Success!

I’d like to share some of my credit with the fact that it’s Women’s Day here in China. They actually celebrate it (apparently it’s a National Holiday), and my kids made me cards, I got a flower on the way to work, and women employees get bonuses!