Mistaken Identity

I went to the bank in the Piazza the other day to take some money out of my (Italian) account.  No problem, right?

Wrong. The lovely young man behind the counter (who knows my name & account number off the top of his head) told me that they can't give you money if your account wasn't opened at that branch. You can use the ATM card in their machine, but no teller service. He told me it was because they'd had problems with impersonations.  When I pointed out that he knew me by sight, he just sadly shook his head and tsked.

I have now closed the account that I had in the Ponte Rio branch and have reopened an account in the Piazza branch of the same bank.  And that was an adventure, too!

So, hold onto your seats, and here we go:

I walked over to the lady who sits in a glass cage, much like in the U.S. (if you discount the brick barrel-vaulted ceiling dating to the 1400s). And here, the resemblance stopped short. She was with a friend, putting on her coat, and clearly preparing to leave the bank. When I told her what I needed, she looked simultaneously mildly abashed and conspiratorial, and asked if I was in a hurry. She knew and I knew that she was about to go to the bar next door to sit with her friend over a cup of coffee.

I suggested that she take a photocopy of my documents and then she could set up my account at her leisure. She knew all about what type of account I had already had down in the Ponte Rio branch, so all I'd have to do is come back later to sign the (many) documents required.

A week later (well, we had to go on vacation, after all!), I showed up again to sign the papers. The lovely young man was behind the counter again and was able to come up with almost everything that I needed to sign. But...

The first lady wasn't there, and she (for some incomprehensible reason) had other things that I had to sign that I couldn't do then. So I had to come back. Within a week.

Two days later, I went back. Angela and I had a nice chat while we were waiting for her to be available. I signed a few forms, life was good, and then she mentioned "bonifico" ("money order") in the context of my Ponte Rio account.  Now, I happen to know that a bonifico costs money. Not much, admittedly, but it's the principle of the thing. I jibbed at this, and she said that the other option would take 4 days for the money to be available. Not being in a hurry, I acquiesced.

Then, she started thinking out loud. She finally decided that since it was set up as a checking account (although I've never had checks), the lovely young man behind the counter could create a check from the old account and deposit it into the new one, thereby providing me immediate access.  So much the better!  So I signed 3 more slips (don't ask), and voila! There we were. Do remember that this is from one branch of a bank to the other. I was not changing banks!

She cheerfully asked me to turn in my old debit card, at which point I equally cheerfully announced that I'd lost it somewhere about the house. She blanched. Time stopped. Well, then, I was going to have to sign a declaration of loss AND report it to the carabinieri (bear in mind, this is for a CLOSED account), and then they could "annulare" the card. I asked whether it wouldn't be better just to annulare the card right away. Tsk tsk, no, it's much better to have the paperwork from the carabinieri before annulare-ing the card.

Feeling slightly ridiculous, I left (50 minutes after entering the bank) with cash in hand and a requirement to visit the carabinieri to report a lost card to an account that no longer had any money in it and had been officially closed.  Oh, and did I mention the 5 digit PIN?

All this, because they don't want to give money to people they don't know by mistake....

Love,

Alexandra