Up to this past week, my experiences in Chinese banks have been mostly good. The past week has changed all that.
In most Chinese banks, costumers don't line up in a queue. Instead, there is a
kiosk with a computer that spits out a little piece of paper with a number. Above each teller, a screen shows which number is presently being helped. Customers sit or stand around until the number on the paper pops up above a teller. Usually, there aren't more than twenty costumers ahead of me; sometimes there are none.
Last week I needed to go to the bank to deposit our rent money into our landlord's account. The first time I tried, it was close to 1:00 in the afternoon. I walked into the bank to find a crowd of customers calmly waiting. I pushed the button to receive my number. Then comparing my number to the highest number above the tellers, I discovered there were over 120 customers ahead of me. Shocked, I asked an
employee to make sure that I was looking at the right number. Sure enough, one hundred twenty other people were before me. I chalked it up to lunch hour rush. I waited around to see how fast things were progressing, but I quickly
ascertained that I had a
very long wait ahead of me. However, I had other pressing things to do that afternoon, so I gave up the wait and went home.
My next opportunity to go would have been on Saturday. However, I woke up Saturday morning with a very upset stomach. Maybe it was something I ate. Plainly speaking, I couldn't be away from the
porcelain throne for too long. But rent was due. So off to the bank I went. I was greeted at the door by the same large crowd of people. I pushed the button; out came my paper. It said 801. I looked up. The highest number I could see was 409! That's right. As crazy as it sounds there were almost 400 people ahead of me. Of course, many of them had already given up the wait and gone home. My only hope was that most of them had. I found an empty chair and settled in for a long wait. I read my Bible, listened to Chinese lessons, studied flash cards, stared at people, and agonized over how slowly the numbers were going by. Finally, I decided to take a stroll. I walked up the block to a grocery store and browsed around. After buying juice for the kids and nuts for my wife, I headed back to the bank. I arrived to find the number being helped hadn't yet reached 520! This was nuts! 801 minus 520 is...Nature suddenly became quite demanding. My stomach went from
strong suggestions to urgent demands. I was forced to retreat back to my beckoning commode at home.
Today, I made another attempt. I couldn't believe that the process that used to take thirty minutes to complete now needed four or five hours of waiting every time. Yet, once again a crowd awaited me. This time my number was 607 and the counter was at 313. But I had a plan: leave and come back later. So I went home, had lunch, and relaxed a while. Then, I rode my bike back to the bank. It had now been over two hours since I first got my number, and I was worried that my number had been reached and skipped. How wrong I was! The highest number being presently helped when I returned was 431. Quickly doing the math in my head, I realized that I had another three or four more hours of waiting. I called Becky, and decided there must be a better way of handing over the rent money.
Fortunately, I was able to get in contact with our landlords, and they said not to worry. We'll find a better way.
What's going on? Why is this particular bank having huge lines? Is this normal for banks here? I don't know. Maybe I'll never know.
However, there is one thing I do know. This is China.
