I Joined the Bank!

Today I had an appointment at the bank.
I didn't want this appointment. In fact, I'd been dreading this appointment, but in order to get health insurance, I was required to show a form that stated that I, Katie, had a French bank account. Hence the appointment at the bank.
Last night, I could barely sleep thinking about it. Everyone at the office assured me that I'd be fine going on my own, but I had my reservations. I don't really have a broad banking vocabulary--I know the French word for "money", and that's kind of where my knowledge ends. But despite my protests, everyone assured me I'd be fine. (Plus, I'd been there on Saturday to make an appointment, and the teller spoke so painfully slowly that it would have been impossible NOT to understand her. I've never seen someone's lips move that particularly over words.)
Anyway, I walked in at 11:00 for my 11:15 appointment, and the woman at the counter took one glance at my rendez-vous card, and said, "He'll be right out."
So, I stood and waited...
...and waited...
...and waited...
A half hour later, a young, skinny man dressed in a very small suit came out of his office and said, "Come with me." Even from just thse few words, I could tell he talked fast. I started praying then that I'd be able to understand him.
But he put me at ease really quickly--asked if I felt homesick, if I liked France, if I was allowed to use the cars at the office. We joked around a while as he typed my information into the computer.
Then, he turned to the page that listed my monthly salary, and said, "Good God! How do you live on this?"
I didn't say anything at first, because I couldn't believe he'd just said that. I just looked at him, a little bug-eyed, and he repeated, more politely this time, "Do you find it hard to live on this salary?"
I smiled and replied very diplomatically, "It can be difficult...especially when the stores have sales."
We both made those awkward, obligatory laughs.
But I couldn't believe it! I would think that in banking school, the first thing you'd learn is not to comment on someone's monthly salary...especially not to say, "How do you live on this?"
Oh well. I don't hold it against him. He was nice.
But then, he started scribbling all these things on different pieces of paper, and asking me to sign inside several boxes. As he wrote, he began telling me that people normally put 500 euros in their account to start off with.
I don't have 500 euros. Nothing near it, in fact. Not even in my Jane Austen Tour savings account. So I just nodded and said, "Oh, really? 500 euros?"
He asked how much money I had.
I replied. "I have 20 euros with me."
I think he wanted to laugh right then, but he had the dignity to keep it in. I handed the money over, and only had a little difficulty easing my grip on it. He then stuffed it in something that looked like a freezer bag, and asked me to sign the bag. I did. And then, he mentioned again something about needing 500 euros. I gave him a shrug that I hoped said that would be no problem.
At that point, he started talking...a lot. About what? I'm not sure. I understood maybe a fourth of what he said, but just kept nodding and saying "Ok," despite the fact that I really had no idea what he was talking about. I only noticed he kept saying "500 euros."
After our meeting, he walked me to the door of the bank, saying, "Have a nice day."
I said, "You too!" over my shoulder, but I was so humiliated, I couldn't even look behind me.
I got home, and Simon, the accountant here, asked if I'd opened my account. I said, "You know. I'm not sure."
"How can you not be sure?" he asked, and I told him about my lack of 480 euros.
"You shouldn't be required to have 500 euros in the bank," Simon said. "Let's look through your papers. Let's see what you've signed up for."
So, I pulled out the packet of papers that the man had signed, and turns out, I not only opened a regular, run of the mill bank account, but he also signed me up for a savings account.
Turns out the man gets comission off of how many savings accounts he opens.
Interesting coincidence.
So, now, tail between my legs, I have to make another appointment with him tomorrow to cancel my savings account. This is probably the shortest lived savings account in world history.
I was feeling pretty bad about this day, and my level of French, and my banking skills in general.
However, Simon sat down with me today and said, "Would you have gotten this far 6 months ago?"
"No," I said. And I wouldn't have. I wouldn't have had the courage to walk in the door of the bank, let alone talk to the banker.
"See?" Simon told me. "Every day gets better."
And I guess that's true. Despite all the flops and failures, today I did something that I couldn't have done before. I joined the bank. Hooray for me.