HSBC France – you have to love it………
If you stand outside a bank in France, they look pretty much like banks do anywhere in the world.
Fortress like building, sober colour scheme, solid oak doors, a reassuring sense of permanence.
If its Monday, it’ll look like banks do anywhere in the world – on a Sunday. Closed. If its lunchtime, it’ll look pretty much like banks do anywhere in the world – on a Sunday. Closed. If its one of the interminable national holidays in France, it’ll look pretty much like banks do anywhere in the world – on a Sunday. Closed.
If you happen to pick a day that’s not a National holiday, not a Monday, not during the national two hour lunch break, not too early, not too late, and you can find the minuscule unlabelled button that is way above my head height, (and I’m a good foot taller than the local dwarfs), that alerts those inside, if they are not too busy, that unaccountably, you would like to step inside – you are in for a shock, it may say HSBC outside, but prepare to be amazed. This is not just HSBC, this is HSBC France.
Your first impression will be positive. No queues of customers. No butcher’s lads with bags of uncounted coins. No bullet proof screens in front of rows of cashiers. In fact, no signs of banking life at all.
A young girl will (if you are lucky) look quisically at you, puzzled at your presence. I once made the mistake of approaching her clutching some 300 euros that I wished to pay into my acount. She recoiled in horror, leapt to her feet and ran off to get a colleague for support. I kid you not. Together they counted out the 300 euros, and placed it into a common or garden envelope which they dutifully labelled with the amount, my account number, their names, probably their dates of birth, and after much chattering amongst themselves, whilst keeping a watchful eye on me, they then proceeded to sling the envelope in a drawer…….I waited anxiously for my bank statement some weeks later, and sure enough there was the 300 euros in my account – it was my first intimation of the mysterious cash free world of French banks.
Banks are something your employer puts your wages in, you spend your money by means of a cash card (not credit card, unknown here!) or you draw cash out of a machine, definitely not the bank. You can of course always write a cheque, being mindful of the fact that it is a criminal offence here to write a cheque for more than you have in the bank, not only a criminal offence, but an instant offence that results in your account being closed on the spot, and notified to the central bank, which prevents you from opening any other account. No nasty letters from the bank manager, just no more bank account!
So when Mr G announced this morning that he needed a certain cash sum with which to purchase his newest toy tractor in excess of the standard 600 euro sum which is the maximum you can withdraw from a cash machine, I had to do several things.
Check my account to make quite sure that not only did I have that amount of money in situ, but also that there were no standing orders about to fall due which might leave me ‘overdrawn’ and account-less…..
Phone my utterly gorgeous, swooningly good looking, bank manager and make a formal request for a cash withdrawal of more than 600 euros – yes you do have to book these sort of things in advance. Anybody would think they were a bank.
Explain exactly what I wanted the money for – money laundering and the black economy are twin obsessions here – anybody would think it was my money or something- so that a letter for their files stating my reason for wanting this vast sum in cash could be filed away.
Then leave home at 11 am to drive the mere 125 kilometres to my nearest branch of HSBC, who no longer have subsidiary branches in France – they flogged them off when they got wind off the banking crisis.
Arriving at the bank, 125 kilometres later, it was of course lunch time, so I duly repaired for the standard four course lunch which miraculously takes precisely two hours to prepare and serve and leaves you refreshed just as the banks reopen for business.
It was now 2pm.
My swooningly gorgeous bank manager was nowhere to be seen, so, being the sole customer, I addressed myself to one of the army of eight young men and women on the banking floor, and explained my mission.
He looked utterly horrified. I wanted what? Que, que, que? He conferred with his colleague. She eyed me suspciously. I handed over my cheque duly made out to ‘moi meme’………the pair of them disappeared behind a glass screen. He came back and invited me to take a seat. I was going to have to ‘attendre’.
Two more customers came into the bank – this being a big city centre branch – one collected a new cheque book, one several sheets of paper work. Half an hour went by. Eight employees, remember?
An alarm sounded. No 1 cashier left his seat and opened a heavy door in the wall. A young black girl emerged pushing a heavy trolley, followed by hatchet face with a clip board.
No 1 cashier gives up his seat in front of the computer to young black girl who proceeds to go through some sort of complicated loggin in procedure. A machine whirrs into life and produces a piece of paper which she hands to No 1 cashier who duly signs it. She stand back clutching her piece of paper. Hatchet face takes her place. She goes through loggin procedure, machine whirrs into life, produces another piece of paper, young black girl and No 2 cashier both sign it. I’m now watching agog.
Duplicate keys are produced, and No 2 cashier and Hatchet face both unlock what appears to be a safe under the table. Young black girl unloads heavy trolley of several heavy metal boxes, each one slips precisely into place with a clasp. She breaks a nail on the last one. This requires several consultations with her colleagues and furious glances in my direction. Eventually all previous formulas are repeated, machine whirrs into life several times, produces several more sheets of paper, everyone present signs everything in sight as far as I can see. There is even a piece just for me, to confirm that yes, I do want them to give me cash, and it is to buy a tractor, and yes, I do have my passport. Sorry, scrub that, there are two pieces just for me, one for them and a copy for me. It is now 3.30pm. Remember I left home at 11am?
No 1 cashier returns to his seat, everyone has signed to say they have supervised everyone else, the cash has come up from the vault, it is in the safe under the table, just one small problem. I don’t have my cash yet.
More numbers logged into computer, more passwords entered and re-entered. Eventually, finally, the safe disgorges an envelope containing my cash. It is checked and rechecked, signed for and re-signed for.
At 6pm I got back home. A total of 250 kilometres travelled, 7 hours of my life consumed, eight full time employees in a bank that had but 3 customers whilst I was there.
You must be wondering what manner of Ferrari tractor this was that Mr G had bought, what fantastic sum I was trying to withdraw from HSBC, the world’s favourite bank, to cause so much trouble?
Sorry to disappoint, but it was a second hand Ford all 3,600 Euros worth of second hand Ford………
You can see why they don’t need all the bullet proof glass palaver that we have in the UK, even with the aid of a sawn off shot gun, any self respecting bank robber would loose the will to live and shoot himself half way through the transaction…….
September 13, 2009 at 12:01
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haha this post is spot on.
Another thing: if you have a bank account
with say Credit agricole in Lyon and you move to Paris, can you use Credit
Agricole in Paris? No. You have to open yet another bank account because CA in
Paris is nothing to do with CA in Lyon.
Once I wrote a cheque for 140
francs. Because of the different way they write numbers in France, I wrote a
full stop (140.00)where I should have put a comma. They decided this check was
for 1,400.00 francs. And put a bank stop on me.
When I went into the bank,
they were very rude about it. It wasn’t their fault at all. But I have also
written the number in words (cent quarante francs) I explain. This is a double
check to avoid mistakes is it not?
No. All my fault.
There is a
tradition in French banks and shops that the person who handles the money is
kept separate, in their own booth. You do your business, cashless, then you go
to the special booth where lives the person that is allowed to handle the
money.
It’s just so different and hard to get used to.
- September 2, 2009 at 17:34
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Dear Anna,
I’ve lived in France for many years and far from being the best country in
the world (does it exist?), their banking rules that you tend to judge are
actually quite sensible when you take two minutes to think about it. Not only
that, but I do believe that they have a much better quality of life than we
have in the UK (ever heard of RTT, cong
- September 2, 2009 at
19:09
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August 25, 2009 at 20:00
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Like the ol’ song goes; “Any ol’ irony, any ol’ irony, any, any, any ol’
irony, …..”
Sheesh! I liked the bit about any self-respecting bank-robber losing the
will to live half way through an attempted heist. Those crazy French, eh?
-
August 25, 2009 at 19:37
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…. Arriving at the bank, 125 kilometres later, ….
…………………………….
Ha-ha-ha-ha! Isn’t HSBC the one which claims to be ‘The World’s Local
Bank’?
- August 25, 2009 at 19:44
- August 25, 2009 at 16:29
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good reading thanks ken
- August 23, 2009 at 18:40
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Just like Spain then!
Interestingly, the banks in Spain ALL shut on
Saturday mornings in the summer – just when the probability of actually having
to deal with tourists is greater.
Just like the estate agents who
resolutely close all day Saturday & Sunday – just when its most likely
people will actually be LOOKING for property!
-
August 23, 2009 at 00:27
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No doubt this also constitutes the French vision of business and banking
heaven on earth for the rest of Europe and the Eu? Hmm…no thanks!
- August 22, 2009 at 10:43
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It’s not just France – my late father had all his accounts with the HSBC
and probate was a nightmare. The final straw was when they temporarily
“misplaced” a substantial savings account – it would have been easier getting
blood out of a stone.
- August 22, 2009 at 09:28
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Very funny, Anna, and so true. I won’t regale you all with my experiences
as it would require a Blog, But they have involved yet more laughs. This
country is permenently hilarious. Suffice to say that I get what cash I need
from the Village Bar, Tabac.
But the system works, and it is definitely not a good idea to bounce a
cheque. Never forget that incoming deposits are recorded AFTER cheques are
presented for payment. That one cost me 700 Francs for being overdrawn for all
of two minutes.
However, third party cheques are easy. I do this all of the time because my
acount is in my maiden name and cheques come in written in my married name. I
just sign them twice, on the back.
Pleased to hear about the tractor.
- August 22, 2009 at 08:55
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I’m currently engaged in the process of selling my house in London and
buying a couple of farms in Croatia. If you want a pure undistilled definition
of completely, totally, perfectly and utterly unhelpful try the Croatian
Embassy in London. They have managed to make what was previously thought of as
merely unhelpful an art form that is, in fact, on reflection, a joy to behold.
God help me when I’m out there and want planning permission. *shoots self in
face, twice, just to make sure*
- August 22, 2009 at
02:49
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Just be thankful you don’t live in New Zealand
There HSBC limit you to an expenditure on your cash card or debit card to
$NZ 1000 a day other banks$NZ1500 a day
You can’t take out more, Not allowed at all You literally have to wait
until 0001 to take out more money the next day
Big purchases you have to buy weekly
They limit your expenditure meaning if you want air tickets, groceries,
travel money and other stuff you have to spend two days doing it or you use
your English card and bash that.
- August 22, 2009 at
02:45
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Oh my mais je suis heureux que vous avez maintenant un tracteur. L’anime
boggleth si vous avez faire un autre chose pour recevoir l’argent.
I can now see why they have limited you taking money out It is nothing to
do with money laundering. It is more to do with the fact that in order to get
your money you have to wait, meaning of course that if you want your money
fast in case of a crisis looming you cannot get it. It is designed for
slavery.
- August 22, 2009 at 00:36
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Oh Anna, do I know …
I have several totally French accounts and some Dutch ones. I have to fight
every which way around to get my cash from the banks in the Midi and hardly
ever get what I have and what I need even though, yes, I do “order” the sums
needed well in advance. Once I am in the bank, though, I am treated like a
little princess in the private office of my account manager.
Locally in the village here, the indeed very handsome manager jumps to his
feet and comes to see me straight away
No, no need for me to come over …
Par contre, I need to send my Dutch banks and all tax and social insurance
institutions in the Netherlands a yearly statement, duly signed by the Mayor
in my French village, to proof … that I am still alive. Talking to them on the
phone doesn’t seem to be proof of anything.
I curse the French in Cannes, I love the ones in my village and I find the
Dutch utterly ridiculous.
- August 22, 2009 at 00:09
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Oh Anna, I feel for you – it seems you can’t bank on anything nowadays, can
you?
- August 22, 2009 at 00:09
- August
21, 2009 at 23:52
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Last week I “applied” online to open a Cahoot bond using money transferred
from my Cahoot current account. Today I received a letter from Cahoot
requesting photocopies of two forms of identification to satisfy their new
anti money laundering guidelines. Apparently, the fact that I had been a
customer for seven years meant my ID was out of date. Now I appreciate that
banks are run by idiots for their benefit at their customers’ expense but
really…
- August 21, 2009 at 23:22
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Hmphh, not worth the paper it is written on.
(sorry no punctuation for the next 17 days)
- August 21, 2009 at 23:17
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Whats cash.
- August 21, 2009 at 23:18
- August 21, 2009 at 23:08
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Obviously it was in a city because here in our market town at 8.45 on
market day all the old people are queued up at the bank cheque book at the
ready to get cash for their market purchases, and the bank is ready for them.
I have never seen any of the old people in my village use anything other than
real money to buy anything even if it means getting the local shop keeper to
fill in a cheque for them and give them cash.
That being said, I learned very early on not to take large amounts of cash
into the bank for deposit – they almost demand to know where you got it from
in triplicate. The time I deposited over a thousand euro from a client I had
to see the manager and explain and show my invoice to the client for the
money.
But you have to admit Anna the system works. It appears France is on the
way out of the recession while the UK is still on the way in.
- August 21, 2009 at 23:16
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