Banking Bleux

While I was still in Bez, I received an email from my French bank asking me to to come in for a rendez-vous (in French, that just means 'meeting'). I went in and explained that I would be moving to Marseille after the summer, and so the very kind lady informed that I would need to change my 'agence' (branch) once I arrived. Little did I know how much I would come to hate that word and how many problems would rise out of what she'd just told me.

While in Paris, it came time for me to pay the August rent at my Marseille apartment. "No problem," thought pragmatic American me. I went to the local agence of my bank and explained that I would like to set up a monthly rent withdrawal out of my account.

"Is this your agence?" I was asked.
"No, its in Besancon, but I am in Paris for the summer and will be changing my agence to Marseille once I move there in August."
"Sorry, but we can't help you. You can only do business from your agence."

French bureauracracy vs American pragmatics.

After a whole bunch of hoopla and run-around, Hugs was able to pay my rent for me at her agence. Now fast forward to my first day in Marseille, where, I'd made it a top priority to go the bank and change my agence.

But first, I went to the metro to purchase my annual metro pass. And when I opened my wallet, I saw to my shock...my French bank card was missing. None of my other bank cards, just the French one.

I am one of those people who is meticulous about my wallet. I have the kind that keeps my bills flat. It has a compartment for receipts. And for transportation tickets. And each bank card has it's own pretty little spot. Why was one spot empty?!

I explained to the metro man that my bank card was missing and I would need to return later to pay. At the bank, (where I waited in line forever because the teller woman wasn't going to tell me that no one was working the line I was waiting in), I explain that (a) my bank card is missing and (b) I need to change my agence.

"This isn't your agence? I can't help you then. You need to go to your agence and report your missing card there."
"But my agence is in Besancon, and I just moved yesterday, and I was coming today anyway to change my agence."
"Well, you need a rendez-vous to change your agence, and the earliest one I can give you is Friday."
"But what about my card? What if it was pick-pocketed and someone is stealing my money? Can't you cancel my card from here? You're all the same bank."

"Oui, madame, we are the same bank, but not the same agence. You will need to contact your agence about your card."

I stared at her in exasperation and frustration, until she finally said..."you can call this number and report your card missing. They will cancel it for you." Well, lady, why didn't you tell me that in the first place? Probably for the same reason she wasn't goung to tell me no one was working the line I'd been waiting in... Why answer a question that hasn't been asked?

You'd think my banking bleux ended there, but oh no. It goes on... So I call the number and explain that my card is missing and I would like to cancel it. The very nice man lets me know that they will mail my new card...to my agence.

I explain that I just moved and have a rendez-vous to change my agence. "Oh my, this is complicated," he ponders, (while I respond in my head, "it wouldn't need to be if yall would drop this whole agence autonomy business...and mail my card to me instead of to the bank"). He decides that I will need to call the bank in Bez, and make sure they know that the card needs to be sent to Marseille, and that I need to go to the Marseille agence today and re-explain the whole sitch, so that hopefully...my new card will get sent here.

Then, to just top the whole thing off, I called America to activate my new American bank card that just arrived, and was told that the pin number would arrive a few days later. So...I am without my French bank card AND my American work bank card.

Those are some serious banking bleux.

Published with Blogger-droid v1.7.4