international banking for dummies

Okay, let's say a person goes to New York. Let's say the person is American, sort of, and goes to New York for the second time in three months. But they organised the trip in a hurry and didn't think of telling the bank they were going, because the bank already knows they were there recently, and really, it's none of their business anyway.

WRONG.

Because if you don't tell the bank you are going to New York, and then you spend constant little amounts like £8 and £16.92 on your card in places like Walgreens and CVS and K Mart, they will think the fraudsters have got hold of your identity and are having a field day. So they will stop your card, and you will not find this out until you are at the counter in the liquor store with a bottle of Merlot and another bottle of single malt scotch for your brother, which you don't want to do without, so you will have to pay for them with your last $40 in cash.

So then you will sigh, saying, "Alas, I must ring the Abbey National from my English cell phone at a cost of £1.50 a minute to sort this out; what a plonker." But you will be in the mountains, and there will be no signal on your little phone. And it's an 0845 number, which can only be rung from a UK line. So you'll call 411 to ask for international directory enquiries, to get a number you can call from a US phone. 411 will tell you you need to dial 00 for international. In a snotty voice, because everyone knows that, don't they.

Except you.

00 will ask you for a something-or-other code, which will be Ancient Greek or maybe Serbo-Croat to you, and your brother will say, "why don't you try dialling 0 for the normal [sic] operator?" You will do this, but instead of talking to an operator, you will find yourself in a forest of recorded options all to do with Verizon. Eventually a girl will come on, tell you they don't do international and that you should dial 00. When you explain that you've already tried to do that she will transfer you to business services and hang up on you before you can even ask what that's about.

You will them spend some period listening to terrible American country-pop from the dreary 70s. But then another Verizon girl will come on and ask for the name of the account holder, and the account number. You will get halfway through pestering your sister-in-law for this information before suddenly realising how intrusive the whole thing suddenly feels. "But all I wanted was a phone number! Why do you need the account number? Are we in some way under suspicion?"

"Ma'am," she'll say to you in a weary, patronising voice, as if you were a mental patient. "In order for me to give you assistance you need to give me the account number, to verify the account and ascertain whether it 'has long distance on it', you may find that is why you can't dial international," etc.

"But" you expostulate, "I'm only trying to ask for a phone number! I haven't even got to phoning international yet! I just want to call my bank!"

Gradually it will become apparent to you that even thinking about asking for an international number qualifies as "making an international call."

"Ma'am," the weary girl will say again. Stating the obvious. "We don't give out phone numbers here." This will engender another little discussion, to which she will reply saying, "Unless you give me the account details I can't check to see if you have long-distance on the account and you probably won't be able to call international from that number anyway, and if you want my assistance I will need to enter the account details into the system" etc. Only she will use three times as many words to say this.

You will attempt to talk to her as if she were a human being. "Look," you'll say. "You have to admit this is frustrating! Imagine if you were visiting someone and just had to call your bank! And I'm not even up to that yet, I'm only trying to call information! You'd be frustrated too!" Your voice will rise.

Meanwhile, your brother will be sitting there trying to reinstall Windows, but his pc won't be accepting any of his key numbers. "Christ!" he'll shout, punching numbers into little tiny boxes on the screen. "Jesus!"

"You two!" your sister-in-law will say. She will go back into her bedroom and shut the door.

However, your brother, being a genius of the highest order and also an erstwhile IT professional, will manage what you couldn't: he will extract the correct number from the Abbey National website. So then you will get dressed and go the mile and a half into town to buy a calling card (note: not a calling bird) and see if the ATM will still accept your other card, and at least get your bus ticket into the City for tomorrow, and then back to the house to get down to calling the bank.*

And no, stopping to write the whole thing down is not procrastination.


* "I'm sorry, but we're all busy helping other customers at the moment. Please hold the line and we will talk to you when we're free." "Thanks for being so patient! You're moving up the queue, so please have your account details ready." 54 minutes on hold. I've given up.