MORE ITALIAN LOGIC

Yesterday in the bank there were - I kid you not - around 200 people waiting and just two functioning counters. People were standing around in small groups, chatting and complaining, but no one complained to a person in a position to do anything about it.  This was probably due to resignation rather than laziness or a desire not to upset anyone, for everybody knew full well that the most likely response would be a shrug with the word "Pazienza" and that no action would be taken.

After an hour, my own pazienza was wearing thin and I asked a clerk at a closed counter if she could tell me why, when there were so many clients waiting, only two counters were open. Her reply was,

"Ah, but there are three counters working. It's just that I have other things to do so my counter isn't open to the public."

Now, maths is not my strong point but two counters working and one closed equals two counters working, not three, or have I missed something here, dear reader?  In the end I gave up and went for a gelato.

DON'T BANK ON IT!

Today Italy has seen its first national banking strike in 13 years as bank employees protested against plans by the ABI [Italian Banking Association] to cancel their collective work contract a year before it officially ends. Banks here, as elsewhere, are under pressure to cut costs and that, their chief executives  have decided, means cutting jobs and changing contracts which offer workers a high degree of protection. The employees, naturally enough, want executives' high salaries to be cut instead and they want a guaranteed fair wage themselves.  Over 300,000 bank employees could be affected by the proposed contract change.

Nobody likes bankers much anywhere at the moment but I think most of us know that our problems are not the fault of the young bank clerk we usually see behind the counter. Just to make sure of that, though, demonstrating employees have been handing out flowers to the public in an effort to show that banks really do provide a public service.  Do we agree with that? I wouldn't bank on it!

I can't help feeling that the banking unions chose the date of their protest rather cleverly as tomorrow is a holiday [All Saints] and their members will get quite a nice little break.  There was no counter service on Tuesday afternoon due to union meetings either. But let us not be churlish -  who can blame anyone for wanting to extend a bank holiday?

A HEARTFELT LETTER TO MY BANK

Dear Sirs,

I write to inform you that I, too, have far too much stress in my life [much of it caused by yourselves] to be able to pass a “stress test” and that,  like the eight European banks that failed the stress tests on Friday, I do not have “at least 5% core tier 1 capital”.  I have no idea what this may be but am absolutely sure I do not have it as I do not have any capital at all.

Therefore I feel that I, too, would benefit from a meeting with the top political representatives of my two countries, namely Messrs Cameron and Berlusconi – on second thoughts, perhaps we had better leave Mr Berlusconi out of it – so that they can urgently advise me on how to raise 2.5 billion euros against the “adverse scenarios” that are sure to befall me in the near future.

I look forward to your help in arranging this and to your earliest, favourable reply.

Yours faithfully,

Patricia Micawber

The Young Ones - Letter to the Bank Manager

AN UNLIKELY SAVIOUR

Valentine's decoration in the Via Sacro Cuore.

I was having a good morning till I went into the bank. I hate the places at the best of times and at the worst of times they really scare me! Today I was not happy to be told that it is going to take them ten working days to clear a cheque and I was feeling very disgruntled by the time I'd acquired some heavy shopping and was on my way to work.

Then a dear elderly chap whom I often see and who has always greeted me effusively, though I don't know his name and I'm sure he doesn't know mine, insisted on carrying my shopping bag down the street to the school, although he was really headed in the other direction. My mood and the day suddenly became sunny.

A little kindness really can help in more ways than we can imagine.

OF BUTCHERS AND BANKERS

To the large butcher's shop this morning to order duck. I have not tasted duck since I left Britain as you never see it on sale here but this butcher had told Irma that he will be stocking it next week. And behold, the butcher had had the bright idea of using a real, antique carretto siciliano as the centrepiece of his decorations. With his permission, I photographed it as best I could.

The Ancient Greeks brought the concept of a cart shaped in this way to the island but the painting of the vehicles did not begin until the second half of the nineteenth century, the purpose being to protect the wood from the sun and rain. The tradition continued into the early twentieth century and the painting became more and more ornate so that even when the carts were used by farm labourers, they showed off the wealth of the landowner. Scenes from folklore and legend were most often depicted and the red and yellow colours of Palermo's flag were frequently used. The cart in the butcher's shop was from Catania.

Sadly, nowadays the carts are found only in museums and, sadder still, the last traditional cart painter may very soon be forced to give up his trade. The various parts of the carts are now collectors' pieces, especially the plaque underneath the cart bearing the painter's name.

Back at the condominio, the water had run out again and the service is sospeso, says the Comune. [How can they suspend the public water system just before Christmas?!] So once again I, being the only person at home this afternoon, paid for a private water carrier to refill the cistern. The first co-tenant I saw after this event was my very own bank manager, whom I promptly asked for his 7 euro contribution. It was the first time in my life that I've been able to tell a bank manager that he owed me money and I revelled in the moment, reader!

BANKLOOK

Never mind your bankbook; it's your bank look you have to worry about here, ladies. Let me explain:

Today I had to visit the bank and my outfit was determined by this fact. No, not dressing up smartly for the manager to get a business loan or anything like that. I was, on the contrary, just tying to carry out a normal transaction that could not be dealt with via the ATM.

All banks in Italy have lockers in the foyer [or what passes for a foyer] in which you are supposed to leave everything except the essential documents that you will require inside, including your handbag. You then ring a bell and pass through a glass door, which immediately closes behind you. Provided you are deemed to be OK, another door then opens automatically and lets you in - though not in my bank, where the clerk [there is only ever one clerk on duty] leaves his client to take a peek at you while you are sandwiched between the two doors, then presses a button to let you in if he knows you or likes the look of you.

In my particular branch, also, most of the lockers are really tiny and I have ruined many a handbag trying to squash it into one. [I am not a fan of small handbags at the best of times.] There are two slightly larger lockers and two briefcase-sized ones, but these last never have a key in them. This cannot be because of the number of customers as there is normally just the person already at the counter and then me waiting. [The wait, though it can be long, is never as frustrating as that at the Post Office as the place is spacious and airy, and when you do get served you exchange some pleasant banter.]

Anyway, to return to the point, dear reader, what I wear to go to the bank takes much planning, as first I have to decide on a small handbag, then which shoes will go with that and finally which outfit will look all right with both. Get it, chaps?!

BANKING ON THE SICILIANS

I am planning a quick trip back to the UK next week [I have some guest bloggers lined up so won't be shutting down here] so last Wednesday, I popped into my Sicilian bank to ask them to obtain a small amount of £ sterling for me. "Oh, we don't know", they said. "We'll have to ask the Banca d'Italia and they may not let us have it. Why don't you just take euros and change them there? It will be cheaper." That's as may be but I couldn't understand why they were making this normal transaction sound as if it was the most difficult thing in the world and I wanted to say, "For goodness sake, you can't arrive in a country without any of its currency!" OK, I know this is possible, but it can prove inconvenient and sometimes I have to run through the airport to get the Cardiff bus if my flight is late - there's no time to stop to get change. I refrained from explaining this to Sicilians who do not travel abroad, however, and, as I've learnt that you get nowhere with Sicilians if you huff and puff, but that you might get part of your way if you hold on to your pazienza, I just smiled sweetly and pleaded, "Please could you try for me anyway?" So we left it at that, with me saying I'd go back tomorrow.

The rain has arrived in Sicily today, bringing with it flying ants the size of aeroplanes, and as Simi and I were battling through sheets of the former and plagues of the latter this morning, passing the bank on our way, out rushed the manager, waving his umbrella excitedly: "Signora, signora! Le sterline sono arrivate!" [= "The sterling has arrived!"] He looked so pleased with himself and I was so touched that he'd braved the rain to come and tell me that I thought, "How could I have doubted my Sicilians?"

THE NATIONAL SPORT

If you thought it was il calcio [football] think again! The national sport in Italy is avoiding taxes, as sneaky ones appear out of nowhere all the time. Italians justify this "game" of avoidance by explaining that it's all the State's fault for "robbing" them in the first place and the tax system is discussed, moaned about and decried over coffee in bars throughout the land. It's not uncommon for a shopkeeper or service provider to give you a receipt for less than you have paid and when you settle the bill in a bar or restaurant, you must always make sure you are given a proper receipt [ricevuta fiscale] because by law you must keep this until you are 300 metres away from the establishment. Whilst you walk this distance, you could be stopped by police asking to see it. This is less a check on whether you have paid than a check on whether the bar owner has charged you tax, but if he / she has not, you could both be fined!

The country that invented banking has turned it into a complicated and expensive process: I am charged for every single bank transaction and there is a state tax to pay on my account too, besides the annual charge which the bank levies for the privilege of having an account. I understand that the average charge is somewhere in the region of €640 per annum, so I am not going to be a happy bunny when I receive this notification! [I haven't had my Italian bank account for quite a year.] But it seems my days of thinking with nostalgia of free banking in Britain may be numbered as I was astounded to read this yesterday.

A BUREAUCRATIC BARRIER - EPISODE 2

Continuing yesterday's story, the landlord's wife came with me to the same bank today. [I was cursing all the way as it is cold by Sicilian standards, reader - 9C daytime temperature and icy pavements for the first time since I've been here, with rain and hail as well!] We asked to see the manager [I was so taken aback yesterday that I didn't even think of that!] and he told her exactly what the cashier had told me. She was as astounded as I was. The manager was full of apologies, but - pazienza - what could he do? [Arms flung up in the air gesture.] It was a new law, it had taken effect last month and they had been informed of it themselves very late. Winchester Whisperer asks about a standing order, but no, you are not allowed to set up one of these on someone's personal account either! It does seem, however, that I can make a transfer every month but it will have to be carried out manually each time - I can't just set it up and have done with it. Anyway, we asked what solution could be found for this month and , provided Mrs Landlord was willing to take two copious forms to Mr Landlord's place of work to be signed by him, she could come back and the money could be paid into his account "as if he had done it himself." So I waited while off she raced. Back she came, panting, after about twenty minutes and the transaction, for this month, has been completed. I'll worry about the next one a month hence!

A BUREAUCRATIC BARRIER

In Italy, things can appear to be going swimmingly for you; then suddenly you will come up against an element of Italian bureaucracy and if you're me, you will take it personally! For nearly two years, I have paid the rent on the designated day of the month into my landlord's bank. Apart from the fact that you have to produce about 500 documents to carry out the simplest transaction in Italy and so have to remember to take them along with you, this has never been a problem - until today:

Bank clerk: "You can't do that any more."

Me: "Sorry?"

Bank clerk: "You're not allowed to do that any more."

Me: "But I've been paying this rent in for nearly two years, in this very bank, and you've got all the details on your computer so why can't I do it today?"

Bank clerk: "Because they've changed the law, signora, and now no one can make a payment into anyone else's bank account."

This, I imagine, is anti-mafia legislation, but I have convinced myself it's the Italian State conspiring to make my little life more difficult. For god's sake, Italy, why do you have to upset ordinary, innocent folk with it and why don't you at least tell us about it? ! [Banking in Britain is so straightforward in comparison and any change in the law like that would occasion your own bank to write to you explaining it.] Grrrrr!!!!! Reader, my pazienza has deserted me!