30 to 1 Odds of Losing My Cool

Although I generally think I'm a pretty smart guy who speaks Chinese very well for a foreigner, I sometimes feel like I'm just a little too self-satisfied.  When this happens, I find that a trip to the local bank supplies me with just the right amount of soul-crushing humiliation that I need to keep my self-confidence from getting any smart ideas.

Once every few months, through the financial entropy known commonly as 'paying off the student loans', the funds in our US account cry out to us, desperate the solid hillock of positive digits they need to keep from drowning in a swamp of overdraft penalties.  Since Dee is part of what Taiwanese folks call the 上下班組 (that is, a "nine-to-fiver"), trips to the bank almost always fall to me.  I take this duty with the stoic attitude of a man who, condemned to death, eschews the blindfold so that he can look the firing squad in the eyes. 

Many Taiwanese professionals have an irritating tendency to assume several things of white foreigners.  The two things I personally find the most irritating are 1: that I am unable to speak any Chinese at all and 2: that as a result of this, I am utterly helpless.  During my latest trip to The Bank, the security guard greets me in English and watches me carefully as I walk through a mixed crowd of customers and carpenters installing a sliding glass door.  Usually, he's the first one to run over to the 'take a number' machine and get a number for me.  My hands are usually able to push buttons, but since this is The Bank, I might accidentally wipe out someone's credit history trying to do this myself.  Today, however, he is busy with the crowd that milling about somewhere between the inside and outside of The Bank. 

I take this as a good sign, and for the first time move alone towards the touch screen, looking for 'international transfer' among the list of options.  Too quickly, I press the 'foreign exchange rates' button by accident and the machine prints out a list of buy/sell quotes for over a dozen foreign currencies.  Looking at the list, I note that the current exchange rate for New Taiwanese Dollars (NT) to US dollars is around NT$30 to $1 US.  Even though I a little embarrassed, I'm still very pleased about this.  For the last couple of years, the rate has been 32 to 1, and for two people who depend on wire transfers to keep our bills from stacking up, 30 to 1 is very good news. Essentially it means more US dollars on the other end.

I guess I must have been taking too long because a customer behind me sees me standing there and without saying a word presses the 'regular business' button at the top of the list of bank options.  A number shoots out.  I just thank him and walk up to the line of benches across from the teller's counter.

Previous experience has told me that an international transfer can take a while to complete.  There's paperwork to do, followed by photocopying ID which the bank insists on doing every single time I come regardless of how many times I've done business with them.  In the interest of saving everyone some time, I decide to go up to one of the tellers and get a registration form so I can fill it out while I wait to be called. 

When I ask her in Chinese she immediately says, "Eh?"  as if she doesn't understand me.  This is a particular habit I dislike because I know my Chinese is good and that she should be able to understand me, but it seems that when certain people see a foreign face they immediately start to worry, which causes their ears to shrink back into their heads to protect them from the onslaught of foreign utterance.  I repeat myself, mildly annoyed but trying to be nice, and she hands me the form.

While filling out the form, it seems that my own ears had shrunk back so that I couldn't hear my number called.  Five more numbers go by before I finish and suddenly realize what has happened.  The local ettiquette when your number has been called is to simply find a teller who looks free, walk up and start talking, regardless of whether or not they really are busy.  I do this as politely as I can, but it is immediately obvious that I have made a grave mistake.

Not only does the teller, an attractive older woman, begin with the customary "Eh?", she then begins to find fault with everything that I have done, from coming to the counter late to the timing of my transaction ("We can't do this after 3:30) to my filling out every single detail on the form, which she goes over with excrutiating slowness ("Is this a 2?").  After she corrects all of my "mistakes" she nods.  Then, taking the passport that I leave up on the counter for her, she goes off to make copies.

All right, I tell myself, a few more minutes and this will all be over.

Three minutes later she comes back and tells me there's a problem with the passport.

"There's nowhere on here that says how long you can stay in Taiwan.  Don't you have anything current?"  She asks me. Without waiting for me to respond in any way, she starts her own CYA manuvering.  "It's because your a foreigner, so we have to make sure that we get the information. Have you ever done this before?"  Having an account at The Bank is not enough to do what you need to do if you don't look Taiwanese.  I tell her that I didn't bring the ARC and that I've never had this problem before.  She just says that I'll have to come back with it later. 

Then, when it's obvious from my face that I am upset with this turn of events, she laughs at me.

"You can stop laughing at me now," I tell her in Chinese, using the very lowest and most even tone of voice I can muster at this point. 

"Oh, soooory," she replies all too smoothly, also in Mandarin.  She then tries to get me to take the copies she made of the passport and be on my way, gesturing toward me repeatedly with them as I put away the form, the money, the chop, and the passport.

"I'll take my time," I tell her.  She relents and I eventually take the copies in hand before I walk out of the bank.