Unlike pretty much everyone else in the
world, I enjoy a trip to the bank. And even
less like everyone else, I prefer it – the chal-
lenge – when abroad. Who knows what’s go-
ing to happen? Maybe this time I’ll get a free
rice cooker! I’ve realised I actually get a small
thrill out of a visit to a bank in China, though
possibly because I have such a low expecta-
tion for fulfilling errands in general here, yet
somehow always manage a small financial
success at the bank.
This perverse pleasure came to the fore re-
cently when I had to do a tour of my three
banks to conduct ten transactions. Why three
accounts? When you start a new job in China
you have to open an account with the bank
the company uses. My last job even needed
another account for expenses. I’d kept them
all, but had changed passports and needed
to let my banks know otherwise when the
expiry date of my previous passport arrived,
heaven only knows what would happen. This
could be as hazardous as having to change
phone number in China. Add requesting a
replacement bank card, Internet banking ac-
tivation, a currency conversion, a withdrawal
and few other jobs it was looking like a day’s
work. But less than three hours later, without
even finishing the tea in my flask, with every-
thing done I celebrated the thrill with a lunch
of cold spinach noodles.
Things haven’t always been so easy. On
my very first trip to China in 2001, I spent
time with a family in Guilin. Back then there
weren’t such luxuries as ATMs that accepted
foreign cards. I had to hand my card over the
counter at the city’s main branch of Bank of
China and a member of staff brought over
a special machine which was plugged and
plumbed in and a lengthy withdrawal proce-
dure began. The next time I went, I was told
it wasn’t possible to use a foreign card there
and that I couldn’t possibly have used one
there previously. I protested and pointed out
the machine on the windowsill, then tried to
talk them through its use, establishing my
banking persistence.I would later find that opening an account
is inexplicably easy in China; at least it seems
so to someone from the UK, where proving
one’s identity for opening a bank account is
about as easy as proving Santa Claus’s. But
after getting an account in China, anything
can happen.
“You need to sign that again,” the bank
teller told me when I applied for a replace-
ment card this time.
“Why?”
“It doesn’t look like your name.”
“But it’s my signature.”
“Your signature has to look the same as
your name. Try a new one.”
So at that particular bank my signature is
now my full name in block capitals. In fact,
knowing what your bank thinks your name
is the key to banking success in China and
is often the downfall of exotically-named
Smith/JohnDAVids.
What I’ve come to appreciate is that whileChina has leaped far ahead of anywhere
else I’ve been in terms of mobile payments
and e-commerce, a trip to the bank is still
evocatively human- and paper-based. Your
first port of call might be a machine where
you press a button for your needs, to deter-
mine which counter to wait at. But of course
you don’t press the button yourself. There is
someone there to press it for you and pass
you the paper queue ticket. Never be fobbed
off by being told you can simply use another
machine to complete your task. It’s a great
idea, but the machines don’t work. You’re al-
ready at the bank, so do it properly.
When your number comes up and the
cashier raises his or her hand as a signal to
approach and you squeeze past a metal cage
to keep dogs in, customers withdrawing
carrier bags of cash, sales people offering
flasks for account openings and you arrive
at the counter, get ready to sign five, ten,
fifty forms, have your passport photographed
multiple times (with and without the forms)
and, everyone’s favourite, key in various PIN
numbers at least five times more than could
possibly be necessary – and maybe create a
new one!
Need to do something that involves your
ID? Then expect the teller to summon at least
one other person to come and look at your
face and ID photo and also stamp the paper-
work with their own unique red stamp.
Every now and again there’s a pause as the
teller simply has to tidy the mounting pa-
perwork. Don’t worry – there’s often some
sort of screen at the counter showing you
an entire portfolio of financial products you
might be interested in. Consider it a financial
review. Or simply watch staff in the back-
ground pushing trolleys of cash around.
Never leave that counter for the comple-
tion of any other tasks. Stay put and every-
thing will be fine, then at the end you even
get to rate the teller’s performance on a spe-
cial device on the counter. Finish with enter-
ing your PIN a few more times. I really don’t
see why no one else likes playing the game.I’ve realised I actually get a
small thrill out of a visit to a
bank in China, though possibly
because I have such a low
expectation of fulfilling errands
in general here, yet somehow
always manage a small
financial success at the bankBanking on something better
By Frank Hersey
Illustration by Liu Xiaochao