It took me 2 hours of sitting around in the bank and saying the same thing over and over again to get a bank account. Here's the problem: when you arrive in the USA after not having lived there before it's like you never existed. It's like you were just born - that's how much credit you have. Except that you have less credit than that because you were just born an adult with no parents or family or history or anything. Luckily I had the foresight to carry with me massive money orders with all the money I could borrow against my Canadian investments, between the "I have money to put IN the bank" arguement and my wiley charms I was able to get a bank account despite the following:
-no american ID
-no proof of my address
-no valid SSN card ('cause after all I had only just been assigned a number, I didn't have it printed on a "fancy" wallet sized "card")
-no phone number
Thanks to Senor Bank Guy* at Bankopolis* I got sorted out so that I could do other things, like get a drivers lisence, auto insurance, and a phone...
*names of people and places have been changed to protect their identity, in case you couldn't figure that out, or actually believed I would open an account with a bank called Bankopolis - I'd sooner open one called Tomato Bank that is represented by dancing tomatoes...
Damnit! I was gearing up to use my Tomato Bank jokes and then you beat me to it and squashed my hopes not unlike an overly ripe tomato.
ReplyDeleteI can't help but think things would have been more confusing if you had gone to Tomato Bank. It looks like your free tomoto sauce will have to happen another time.