About a week ago, I had a message on my voice mail, a woman's voice speaking rapid French where I did not understand one single word. I listened to it 7 or 8 times, but I got nothing, except that I thought someone wanted a rendez-vous, a meeting. But who, where and why?
The first possibility was: a wrong number. She spoke so fast that I couldn't even judge whether or not she had mentioned my name, so maybe she was looking for someone else.
Another possibliity: the Powers That Be in France, the ones Who Govern Nationality, might have called with questions or to request my presence for a meeting, although normally I would think they'd contact me in writing for something like that. You know, being fonctionnaires and all, I don't think they'd bother telephoning when sending an official letter written in very formal French would make them feel even more important.
But, I was stumped. So when Georges got home from work, I asked him to listen to the message, and in 2 seconds he had it: it was my conseiller de clientèle at my bank, and she wanted me to call her back.
First of all, I have never met this woman. I've had the same bank account since I moved to France, but I've switched branch offices three times as I've moved about in the city. When we made our most recent relocation last spring, I took advantage of the fact that there is a large, modern branch of my bank right in the immediate neighborhood, to dump the small, stuff, badly staffed branch I'd been using since I moved to the 18th. When I made the switch, the new branch's welcome desk gave me a card with someone's name on it and told me THAT was my new conseiller if I needed anything. And of course I had since lost that information and forgotten the name.
To get this phone call out of the blue made me immediately worry: was I overdrawn? Was there a problem? I hardly ever use that account and can't even recall the last time I had to write a check on it (I use our joint account at another bank for most check-writing), but had I bounced a check? Was she going to complain that I wasn't keeping enough money in my account to keep the account open? What could it be?
Notice that I had immediately assumed I'd probably done something wrong. Because, you know, this is France and so of course it's all my fault. And it always will be my fault, even when it's not. Always. N'importe quoi.
I have learned that in France, it is considered quite important to build good long-term relationships with one's bankers. In a society where credit cards (as we Americans know, love and abuse them) do not normally exist or are very rarely sought and used, a society that prefers to operate on a cash basis (preferably under the table whenever possible), a society where you can sometimes write checks at a restaurant or even to buy tickets at the movie theatre (I saw someone doing that just the other day, although she was buying 20 of them for a school group), it is imperative to stay on the good side of your bank. In New Jersey, I barely knew the people who worked at my bank, but like everything else about my new life, the rules have changed.
Think it's no big deal to bounce a check here? Think again. In America, your bank will charge you a hefty fee for bouncing a check, but unless they suspect your rubber checks of reaching criminal status, they're happy to collect those extra fees and they'll pretty much leave you alone as long as it's not happening often. Compare to France, where passing even ONE bad check (and certainly doing it more than once) could result in your name being given to the central bank, a.k.a. the financial Big Brother, which in turn could result in you losing ALL banking privileges, at your bank or ANY bank in France, for a very long time. Years, maybe. They are not kidding around, these people, so don't even think about it. The Banque de France, the central banking authority, has no sense of humor.
Want to have the ability for your bank to be understanding and patient in the event your account DOES go negative? Want a good rate on a mortgage or a car loan? Want them to respond in a timely manner when you need a letter proving you have an account there? Better make your banker your new best friend. The banker-client relationship is everything, even if you are someone of modest means. For me, it's been important in establishing myself as a legitimate resident (proof of address), in establishing Georges and I as a real married couple (proof of common life with a joint account), and now it's helping me in my application for nationality (hey, look at me, I'm "integrating" by having a French bank account!)
So, my banker wanted me to call her back? I called her back the very next morning. Turns out all she wanted was to arrange to meet me. I've only had my account at that agency since last May and she's finally getting around to meeting me now, but whatever. At least she wasn't summoning me because I was in the merde, so sure, I was perfectly happy to take a few minutes and meet her. I mean, you never know, next year I might want a favor or something.
I was pretty sure that what this was really about was her wanting to see if she could up-sell me on some of the bank's many service offerings, because of course that's part of her job. But this is a way of me establishing yet another useful relationship here, so today, off I went to the bank.
She was very nice, patient with my efforts to speak and understand French, and of course asked all kinds of questions designed to ferret out possible services she could sell me. Did we have a car? No. Does my husband have accounts at another bank? Yes. Our home insurance? With his bank. Mutuelle (supplemental health insurance)? With his place of employment. It went on and on, and I felt bad for her because seriously? She's unlikely to make much of a commission off me at the present moment, not until I have some real money coming in from writing, at least.
There was only one service she mentioned that MIGHT be useful to me and Georges: blanket insurance for all our electronic gadgets, of which we have MANY. For 7 euros a month, we can have every iPhone, iPod, iPad, Gameboy, Nintendo DS, Sony Playstation, laptop computer or similar covered for loss, breakage or theft whether it occurs in our home or anywhere out of the home. Considering what a geek family we are, this one might be a winner.
But really, one has to pity this poor woman. She spent 30 or 40 minutes talking to me, and for what? A possible commission on a sale amounting to 7 euros a month? That wouldn't even buy her morning espresso.
However, I did my best to appear interested and congenial, and to give the impression that I am HOPEFUL that I will soon have more money from my work to comfortably pad my account at her bank. And I complimented the hell out of their branch to get a few extra banking karma points.
Still, I intend to keep my account open there for the rest of my life in France, if possible (and practical). I still can't quite account for the fact that they GAVE me the account in the first place, it's still a bit of a minor miracle.
And you never say "Non merci" to a miracle. Especially when it involves a bank.