At the start of the month I opened my bank account.
Not terribly exciting, one might think, but everything is kind of exciting here because it more often than not opens up whole new, hitherto unimagined, worlds of red tape, complications, form filling, pencil pushing, first born promising and frustration of the sort that makes you want to rip the skin off your face with your fingernails.
First I have to mention the unusual quirk they have here of wanting you to keep a substantial sum in your bank account at all times, lest they charge you for going under that amount. This sum varies from bank to bank and from account to account. I have noted a low of AED200 for a very basic account which is essentially keeping your cash under your mattress but without the convenience of having it so easily accessible, and a high of AED10,000 which, presumably, entitles you to bank statements printed on gold-leaf and having a unicorn nuzzle your neck to ease your tension whenever you grace the branch with your presence. This practice doesn’t make any sense to me, because surely, if you thought you were going to drop below the standing amount, the logical thing to do would be to take all your money out and close the account, rather than sit immobile while you get charged for daring to use your own money! You should be ashamed!!!!
Then, there are the women’s accounts.* Aside from getting to choose which pretty picture you want on your debit card, there are benefits to women only accounts – but it’s a shame the benefits are only for women. The premise is that a woman will either not be earning her own money, and instead be provided for by the significant male in her life at that point (father/husband), will be a secondary earner in the household and probably not earning as much as the significant male in her life and that the account holder may not have a regular amount entering the account on a regular schedule. In this country, all quite reasonable assumptions. What this means for the account holder is that there is often a much reduced standing amount (if any) though quite probably a reduced interest rate to go along with it.
There is no stipulation about who may open one of these women’s accounts, apart from that you are a woman. And so, due to my somewhat unstable employee status I opened one myself!
I picked a bank that seemed to be the least sneaky with hidden charges (some will charge you every time you use your bank card, either at an ATM or in a shop, they will charge you for using the counter service, they will charge you for having a cheque book and for using a cheque, they will charge you for daring to want to dirty up their nice clean bank by keeping all your filthy money in it and for merely existing… ok I exaggerate, but only about the bank being clean), but this came with a price. They are only open between 8am and 2pm. Bit of an inconvenience since I start work at 8am but hey ho, they are open on Saturdays so not too much of andrama as long as I don’t have any urgent banking matters that cannot wait until the weekend.
I digress. Never one to be daunted in the face of needing to make a little extra effort (stop sniggering in the back – I can hear you!) I tootled along on a Saturday morning with passport in hand to become a proper grown up person who can take charge of her own money! Woohoo!
It all started smoothly enough, although the nice woman who would ultimately open my account for me was adamant that she describe – in a not altogether descriptive manner – the different kinds of current accounts that the bank provides, even though I’d done my research and picked the kind of account that I want. She was most successful in confusing me and sending my little brain round in circles. That over and done with I filled in my forms, handed over my passport for photocopying, got myself a pay slip and handed AED150 in cash to the teller. AED100 as a minimum deposit to open the account and AED50 for my debit card… well you can’t expect something for nothing now, can you?! So simple, so quick. I was delighted.
With that all nicely sorted, I was a little surprised to get a call the next day from the woman who opened my account. Apparently there were some things that were neglected (I’d be raising an eyebrow now if I could) when I initially opened the account. Some extra information about me was needed and though she could take that information over the phone I needed to sign the form to authorize the amendments. Sigh. Also, for some reason I’m not wholly convinced about (she said something about her boss and audits), I had to provide a salary certificate. Oh boy.
It takes a couple of days but I get my salary certificate through from Dubai, and despite it having my title as “Miss” it refers to me using the masculine 3rd person singular throughout. It also is missing a rather essential decimal point resulting in my salary certificate certificating that I earn an absolute mint! Ha. I wish. Hoping for the best (and already regretting not using a little biro magic to address that decimal point issue) I take it to the bank as soon as the place opens the next day.
After more palaver involving trying to explain there aren’t “departments” in my four person office, pleading that the salary certificate be accepted even though it reads like it’s been written by a baboon that had a school-leavers diploma waved in it’s general direction, providing a full UK address and phone number (even though I DON’T LIVE THERE ANY MORE!) and my bra size I was told that, Insha’allah, my bank card would be ready for me by the weekend.
Ee gads. Luckily the card was ready by the weekend and I had my May wage paid into my account so I can now spend virtual money to my heart’s content. Whoop!
In case any one was wondering what has been happening to my salary before this momentous occasion… I had it paid into O’s account, which meant that I regularly felt like the little woman saying something very much like “Darling, I need to buy some frivolous women’s things like kittens and parasols – hand over the ATM card!”
Adventures in banking this certainly was not. But I was very, very excited to have that little text telling me I’ve been paid.
*Don’t even ask about the accounts that conform to the Islamic code of interest/profit earning. I just cannot get my head around them at all – but they do exist and indeed entire banks operate based on it.
Not terribly exciting, one might think, but everything is kind of exciting here because it more often than not opens up whole new, hitherto unimagined, worlds of red tape, complications, form filling, pencil pushing, first born promising and frustration of the sort that makes you want to rip the skin off your face with your fingernails.
First I have to mention the unusual quirk they have here of wanting you to keep a substantial sum in your bank account at all times, lest they charge you for going under that amount. This sum varies from bank to bank and from account to account. I have noted a low of AED200 for a very basic account which is essentially keeping your cash under your mattress but without the convenience of having it so easily accessible, and a high of AED10,000 which, presumably, entitles you to bank statements printed on gold-leaf and having a unicorn nuzzle your neck to ease your tension whenever you grace the branch with your presence. This practice doesn’t make any sense to me, because surely, if you thought you were going to drop below the standing amount, the logical thing to do would be to take all your money out and close the account, rather than sit immobile while you get charged for daring to use your own money! You should be ashamed!!!!
Then, there are the women’s accounts.* Aside from getting to choose which pretty picture you want on your debit card, there are benefits to women only accounts – but it’s a shame the benefits are only for women. The premise is that a woman will either not be earning her own money, and instead be provided for by the significant male in her life at that point (father/husband), will be a secondary earner in the household and probably not earning as much as the significant male in her life and that the account holder may not have a regular amount entering the account on a regular schedule. In this country, all quite reasonable assumptions. What this means for the account holder is that there is often a much reduced standing amount (if any) though quite probably a reduced interest rate to go along with it.
There is no stipulation about who may open one of these women’s accounts, apart from that you are a woman. And so, due to my somewhat unstable employee status I opened one myself!
I picked a bank that seemed to be the least sneaky with hidden charges (some will charge you every time you use your bank card, either at an ATM or in a shop, they will charge you for using the counter service, they will charge you for having a cheque book and for using a cheque, they will charge you for daring to want to dirty up their nice clean bank by keeping all your filthy money in it and for merely existing… ok I exaggerate, but only about the bank being clean), but this came with a price. They are only open between 8am and 2pm. Bit of an inconvenience since I start work at 8am but hey ho, they are open on Saturdays so not too much of andrama as long as I don’t have any urgent banking matters that cannot wait until the weekend.
I digress. Never one to be daunted in the face of needing to make a little extra effort (stop sniggering in the back – I can hear you!) I tootled along on a Saturday morning with passport in hand to become a proper grown up person who can take charge of her own money! Woohoo!
It all started smoothly enough, although the nice woman who would ultimately open my account for me was adamant that she describe – in a not altogether descriptive manner – the different kinds of current accounts that the bank provides, even though I’d done my research and picked the kind of account that I want. She was most successful in confusing me and sending my little brain round in circles. That over and done with I filled in my forms, handed over my passport for photocopying, got myself a pay slip and handed AED150 in cash to the teller. AED100 as a minimum deposit to open the account and AED50 for my debit card… well you can’t expect something for nothing now, can you?! So simple, so quick. I was delighted.
With that all nicely sorted, I was a little surprised to get a call the next day from the woman who opened my account. Apparently there were some things that were neglected (I’d be raising an eyebrow now if I could) when I initially opened the account. Some extra information about me was needed and though she could take that information over the phone I needed to sign the form to authorize the amendments. Sigh. Also, for some reason I’m not wholly convinced about (she said something about her boss and audits), I had to provide a salary certificate. Oh boy.
It takes a couple of days but I get my salary certificate through from Dubai, and despite it having my title as “Miss” it refers to me using the masculine 3rd person singular throughout. It also is missing a rather essential decimal point resulting in my salary certificate certificating that I earn an absolute mint! Ha. I wish. Hoping for the best (and already regretting not using a little biro magic to address that decimal point issue) I take it to the bank as soon as the place opens the next day.
After more palaver involving trying to explain there aren’t “departments” in my four person office, pleading that the salary certificate be accepted even though it reads like it’s been written by a baboon that had a school-leavers diploma waved in it’s general direction, providing a full UK address and phone number (even though I DON’T LIVE THERE ANY MORE!) and my bra size I was told that, Insha’allah, my bank card would be ready for me by the weekend.
Ee gads. Luckily the card was ready by the weekend and I had my May wage paid into my account so I can now spend virtual money to my heart’s content. Whoop!
In case any one was wondering what has been happening to my salary before this momentous occasion… I had it paid into O’s account, which meant that I regularly felt like the little woman saying something very much like “Darling, I need to buy some frivolous women’s things like kittens and parasols – hand over the ATM card!”
Adventures in banking this certainly was not. But I was very, very excited to have that little text telling me I’ve been paid.
*Don’t even ask about the accounts that conform to the Islamic code of interest/profit earning. I just cannot get my head around them at all – but they do exist and indeed entire banks operate based on it.
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