ATM-Inept

I was able to at least prepare myself for the major differences: the language barrier, the food, the weather, etc.  But I wasn’t able to prepare myself for the minor changes that always catch me off guard.  Like being locked out of my debit card on day one because…  Well…  Take a look.

Now at first glance it appears nothing is abnormal.  Which is why that sneaky machine won the battle.  Back home I could punch in my pin number in the dark, but here things are swapped around just subtly enough to confuse me.  And to top it all off, Chinese banks require a 6 number passcode, and since mine is based on corresponding alphabetical letters (which are not used on Chinese keypads), it made things a bit more difficult for an already flustered American.  So when signing up for a bank account here I went back and forth looking from my phone to the pin pad to make sure I had the numbers correct.  My muscle memory, however, kept tricking me into thinking the 7 was the 1.    3 attempts and one very annoyed bank teller later and I thought for sure I had it right!

Spoiler alert: I did not.

Which is why, when trying to deposit money via an ATM, I managed to lock myself out of my account.  While the bank branch next door was closed.  WINNING.  Note: without this bank account there’s quite a bit I can’t do like join the bike share program, order food for delivery, purchase things online, and just be generally up to speed with the Chinese tech savvy culture.  Why the United States has yet to adopt WeChat the world may never know…

Naturally, for all the times I’ve gone to the bank in the last week, I consistently find myself there during the lunch hour.  This means only one teller and a whole lot of antsy people waiting for their number to be called.  This morning I spent a solid 45 minutes just waiting my turn and another 20 to reset my pin.  You’d think with all the technological advances here they’d have faster banking figured out by now…  Even when I made returns to IKEA it took an half hour.  Paper here, paper there, stamps everywhere; its highly inefficient. At least, considering how quickly one can normally make it through a returns and exchanges line in the States.

Last year a Chinese coworker said that what he missed most about America was the customer service.  At the time, I rolled my eyes.  But dude, I get it now…

However, despite the number of times I’ve been turned away because the language barrier requires extra effort, I have had several positive experiences in which I felt like people sincerely wanted to help me.  Like when I went to make photocopies of my passport and apartment contract in order to register with the local police.  I asked her how much it cost and she said a number that I couldn’t quite understand.  It sounded like she said “two kuai,” in English (it isn’t unusual for locals to pick up on my blonde hair and assume I don’t speak Chinese) but when I handed her ¥2 she shook her head.

Last year I learned how to count to ten with proficiency, but the skill rapidly disappeared under the assumption I likely wouldn’t need it again, at least for a while.  If only I knew…

When she realized I’m a little rusty on my numbers she counted it out for me in Chinese, ” yī, èr, sān, sì, wǔ, lìu, qī, bā, jiǔ, shí.”  [Want to learn with me?  Here’s a video of a super peppy teacher with profound green screen capabilities.]  For the next five minutes she refreshed my memory on how to count to ten, complete with the associated hand signs.  I repeated it back to her several times and she helped when I needed it.  I’m confident she thought my struggle was adorable…  But hey.  I’ll take what I can.

It was then that I realized I had given her ¥7 less than the total.  Whoops!

I left her shop with two takeaways:

1. I didn’t steal anything by accident

2. I can now comprehend the essential numbers so maybe I won’t attempt to steal in the future

eko