A Bureaucratic Success

Getting traveller´s cheques in a town of 22, 000. I thought it might be a problem. But then I remembered I was in Germany, land of methodical efficiency and superfluous infrastructure. Walking into Sparkasse my hopes surged - glass ceiling, grand piano, abstract paintings, camp assistants with pink ties. An air of 21st century high tech chic: I´d bet they sent robots in to do the cleaning, or sprayed a cleaning enzyme through the air vents during the night.

Promptly, I was asked the dreaded question, "do you have an account with us?" and sent to Deutschebank across the road. Same problem. Went to Volksbank.

Great place. Upon hearing the words, "do you speak English?", the woman behind the desk freaked. Her worst nightmare had come true. In the end, she did a great job trying to help me, but unfortunately was powerless to get the travellers´ cheques.

Then I had an idea - a powerful weapon, given that bureaucrats don´t tend to have imagination - why don´t I offer to lodge my passport as a deposit, or ask if my aunt could order the cheques, given she had an account with the bank. Finally, my aunt had to go in person, twice, and have the money transferred from her account. Got the cheques at 9.00 this morning.

Two observations:

Banks in Germany try hard to exist for people. They are brightly lit, well designed, with comfy couches. If they were to go the way of the Collectingwealth Bank of Australia (down downsize lane), they´d turn into nightclubs. You don´t have to go to a counter to do business and there is none of the standard bulletproof glass/crate/speaker-microphone rubbish that seems to plague the majority of the Eastern Bloc´s banks, train stations, post offices, etc.

Banks in Germany are sensetive not to discriminate - each one will have an employee in either : a pink shirt, a purple shirt, a striped shirt, or a light blue tie. Seriously, what is it with camp guys working in banks?